The Misty Fire
by Punk19
Summary: With Master Vile taking over the Americas, Angel and her children, who's numbers have recently been boosted by the adoption of Guyunis, are forced to reside in a different country. Will they be left alone to live a normal life or will the ghosts of their kin bother them again?
1. Part 1

Lessings Street was like your typical, ordinary, 41st Century German street. You wouldn't find a hooker, who would inhabit one of the big-time cities that had always had a pretty wild history, and that went double for cow or horse-drawn wagons. The unsightly sight of a muralists' work on the side of a building wouldn't be seen either. If one wanted to see the cow or horse-drawn wagons, that had bales of hay, or bushels of apples, or even big, burlap bags that contained either oats or that year's harvest of potatoes, they'd go to Pennsylvania, a state that was located on the eastern half of the North American continent, that was way across the Atlantic; and, if one wanted to see a muralists' work on the side of a building, they'd go to a city known as Richmond, which was located in the state of Virginia, which was another of the eastern-lying states of the North American continent.

His place of work was in an old building that had lasted the test of time; the street that it was on had also lasted time, and the many wars, plagues, and natural disasters that had taken place over the years. Like any other street here, there were parked cars and motorcycles on either side of it and, between each of the parked cars, was a pink-flowering, Cherry Blossom tree. The slight breeze, that started up after one o'clock, had made some of the leaves on the trees fall; the street and some of its parked vehicles had some of the trees' leaves and flowers on them. The rays of the mid-evening sunshine were seeping between the shadows of the closely built buildings and the branches of the trees; it gave the street a peaceful, romantic feeling.

"Whoever's last to leave the building please remember to not only drop the front window drapes but to also lock the front and back doors." one of his female co-workers yelled as she made her way towards the front door of the building that he, she, and thirty other people worked in.

"That'll be me," he thought as he leaned back in his office chair. He rubbed the fingers of his lightly tanned hand over his eyes then went back to what he was doing, which was looking through the available housing that his online search had pulled up on his computer screen.

As he went back to work, he thought more of the street that his workplace was on. The street that the one-story, yellow-brick building, that housed the offices of the Maxas Real Estate company, was on was located in Baden-Baden, a spa town that was in the German state of Baden-Württemberg, that was in southwestern Germany. Except for the fallen leaves and flowers of the Cherry Blossom trees, the street was clean. It was just as clean as the rest of the streets that were in the area; it was so clean that one would probably consider eating a meal off it. There was not a shred of trash on it, whether of the hooker kind or of the casually thrown paper or cigarette butt, and it was sparklingly beautiful. Even in the fading light of that July 30th day, the street shown; the sidewalk that was on either side of the street had no cracks or holes in it and there was not a single hint of potholes throughout the dark gray surface of the road.

The people of Germany were a rather proud bunch; they took care of their streets, which was why Lessing Street, and the other streets in the area where his workplace was, was so clean. One who was smoking a cigarette would make damn sure that, after the tobacco was used up, the remains would be stowed away on their person until a trash can was either found or reached. If a baby dropped a bottle, or a cookie, it would be swiftly collected and if someone dropped a piece of paper or a plastic cup, or threw something down after having a tantrum, it was swiftly picked up afterwards.

Lessing Street was a pretty active street at the moment; for most, it was time to head home. People were either on their way to their cars or mopeds or they were walking along with bags held in hands that were either young, middle-aged, or old. The offices of Maxas would normally be closed up at 8:45 p.m. UTC; on any other day, he would of already shut down shop in his office. This was no normal day for him. He had felt the abnormality of the day after his alarm aroused him at six that morning and he had continued to feel its abnormality all through the early morning and afternoon working hours. The abnormal feeling had started to make sense after he received a phone call from a client who was looking for some housing that was big enough for six persons to comfortably live in.

What was he doing on this fine, mid-evening of July 30, 4100? Why, he was doing one of them age-old things that had kept him in Germany: he was participating in what he believed was his destiny.

"Thirty-four years old, very blond and very blue-eyed, that's me." he thought while looking through the information on his screen.

His name was Arnold Heiberg; he was five foot, nine and a half inches tall and he was a pureblood German. The Heiberg's, while being pure German now, hadn't always been German; they had started out as being German long before the American continents were discovered and they had remained German for most of the America's early-known existence until Leopold Heiberg decided to move himself and his new wife, Anneliese Kahler, to the North American state of New York in 1674. The Heiberg family had sort of gone American afterwards; a lot of their blooded stock had married and bred with the Americans to introduce American blood into the line. By the time the monsters began their invasion of California, and by the time the planet was nearly conquered by one very mean and nasty monster, the Heiberg's were 99.99% American. Just before the planet's doom occurred, a heroine had acted; the monster conqueror's daughter had taken it upon herself to save the planet and keep it safe. While doing so, his ancestors had asked her if she could use one of her ground-flipping moves to move them to Germany. She had graciously done so.

The move was fine and dandy at first; the then-American Heiberg's had liked Germany and Europe just fine. After a hundred or so years, the continent of North America had started making its calls. Most of his family had moved back except for a small unit of two men and three women; they hadn't been able to afford the move so they stayed in Germany for the rest of their lives. Through the years, his family had met with tough times; plagues and natural disasters had claimed many—the American branch of the Heiberg's had nearly been wiped out while the freshly returned German blood in the ones who stayed in Germany were hit even harder. Of the thirty Heiberg's that were alive during the last plague that struck the planet, only four survived to continue the line into the future. He happened to be the descendant of one of them four lucky persons.

While his childhood and early teen years were fragmented memories to him he remembered his late-teenage years relatively well; like so many others, he went to college after graduating high school. He had gotten a diplom—the German form of a diploma—in computer science and then in Arts in Political Science and Government, which had mostly collected dust after he walked the aisle. For some reason, them diploms hadn't clicked with him; while he appreciated his parents for sending him to college, he had just not had an interest in getting a job in either of them fields. The job of working in real estate had held quite a lot of interest in him so he went for it. He had been showing homes and looking homes up and mostly sitting behind a desk since the decision of working in that field was made.

His former wife, who he had one kid with, had wanted to leave Germany for some other place in the world; he had sadly hurt her heart by saying that he wanted to stay where he was. That destiny thing that had him hook, line, and sinker had said that he was needed to be here, which was why he couldn't leave. His wife had left him, had taken the kid, then had filed for divorce. She was now married to another man and had two other kids; he hadn't seen his child by her in a long time now. He had lost two other women because of his need to stay in Germany; he had seen two other kids be born then be taken away from him and he had seen his family shake their heads time and again at him. He just couldn't leave. He felt his destiny was here, in good, ol' Germany, and he had a feeling that his destiny was about to take place.

"How's the search going?" the woman, who was sitting on the other side of his desk, asked.

"Going slowly, ma'am. I'm looking for a good apartment for you and your sons to move into." he replied. "So far, what I've found isn't good enough. Too small for you and your sons or too run-down. We want you in a good, safe, healthy apartment; not something that's about ready to be torn down."

No real estate person wanted to give a client a run-down building to live in. Normally, people would come in saying that they wanted to find a good home to live in; on certain occasions, a client who was interested in finding a fixer-upper would come in—he had sold a few of them types of homes in his career. For the most part, he had mostly been asked to find good, healthy, and safe homes for his clients to look at and buy. The woman that was on the other side of his desk was the exact same one who called him earlier; after asking her a few questions, he asked if she could come in to finalize what she was looking for. She said that she would. His client had said that she'd be in at around eight o'clock; she was an hour late in coming in, and he was annoyed over having to postpone his trip home... at first.

She had come in wearing a Hijab, or shawl, around her head; since most of her facial features were obscured, he had taken her as being a Muslim and he had addressed her as such—he had come to be right embarrassed after her identity was exposed to him! His client, after entering the building, had asked specifically for him; he was retrieved for her right after she started asking for him. While leading her to his office, he introduced himself—she refused to do so on her end until after she was in his office and the door was shut. After taking a seat before his desk, she asked if he could do a search for a simple, low-cost apartment, which he started doing right away. He stopped doing his search after she explained her situation... and after the black shawl was removed from around her head.

"Miss. Ir... shouldn't you be..." he said after she took the shawl from around her head. Due to his shock being so great, he wasn't able to finish a sentence. "I should of known..."

"I apologize for the secrecy, I don't really know who I can trust here yet." his client returned.

No introduction was needed on her part; a child, who had just started school, would know who she was and the same went for a full-grown adult. The woman that was seated on the other side of his desk was none other than his planet's heroine—the ever lovely, and the one and only, Angel-Friggin'-Irene was seated directly across from him! It had taken him all of five minutes to get himself together; in that time, he took her in.

She was a very beautiful woman! He was surprised that she was allowed to leave a house without a bodyguard and he was also surprised that no one had called dibs on her. The red glow that was in his small office wasn't coming from the taillights of a car or from the sun's reflection from a red car or sign. It was coming from his client's hair, which wasn't only long but also a fiery red color. The eyes that were set in his client's heart-shaped face were a rather beautiful, emerald-green color; the pupils that were in their centers had a single, golden-yellow ring around them. With her being five foot, seven inches tall, she was a tall woman; her honey-colored skin was as smooth and as blemish free as could be.

His client had a nice, trim, petite figure that was very feminine in appearance. Any and all muscle that she had on her was masked perfectly. Her breasts were pretty big—they seemed to be in the 40C-cup range; even though they were big, they didn't make her appearance look off one, single, bit. The sleeves on her green shirt were faded while the knees of her pair of dark green jeans were well-worn; the white tennis shoes, that were on her feet, were grass-stained. It looked like their soles were going out on the sides.

After taking in her features, and her wardrobe, he found himself as being drawn to the only piece of jewelry that she was wearing. The ring, that was on her third, left finger, was nicely shaped, proudly worn, and, from all appearance, looked rather expensive. The ring's band consisted of three rows of diamonds; the top row looked to be white or vanilla while the other two looked to be of the chocolate variety that the ladies nowadays were going crazy over. There was an oval-shaped aquamarine in the center of the ring's band that had a right nice shine to it. The ring had a right nice sparkle to it; he had only to look at it to know that the woman took very good care of it. The ring that his client was wearing on her ring finger wasn't something that one would buy from any old jewelry store for €50 or even €100; he bet that it had a price-tag of over €500 on it when it was purchased. The ring looked very at-home on the woman's finger—it almost looked like it had a little post on it that said it belonged on that finger.

Soon after taking a seat in the dark brown leather chair, that was in front of his wooden office desk, that had all the necessary office equipment on it—a computer; a red, blue, and green striped container that had pens and pencils in it; a pencil sharpener; a stapler; and an Onyx mesh triple tray organizer—, she told him what she was looking for and then asked him to look for it. After regaining his composure, he asked her a few questions on what she was looking for. The questions that he asked were simple ones like, how many rooms, a one-level or two, front yard or no, and, of course, the major question of the price-range that she was looking for.

"Really hoping to find a three-bedroom apartment; it has to have a front and a back yard to it," she responded. "I only have $12,288 on me; I'd rather for the apartment to have an upstairs and a downstairs and I'd also like for it to be in a good, crime-free neighborhood."

"Fence or no fence?" he asked.

"No, my sons and I have no pets."

"Four sons, right?"

"Five,"

After his questions were answered, he started looking for the residence that she was searching for; the search, on his end, stopped soon after it was started. The reason for this was simple enough: the woman had said that she had five sons... that would mean that she was looking for a small apartment to move a large family of six into which, to him, was absurd. Five boys, all crammed in a three-bedroom apartment, was just asking for trouble; since he knew who he was talking to, and since he knew how important she was and how much the people of Earth appreciated her, he stopped the search for the apartment. He had asked the woman to excuse him for a minute; the word on his needing to check the printer—to see if it was running as it should—was given just before he got up from his chair. Since she didn't know his intentions, she said okay.

The printer, that was in the corner office three doors from his own, was running fine; he knew he didn't need to check to see if it was running or if it had ink or enough paper in it—what he said about checking the printer was nothing more than an excuse to leave his office. What he actually did was go straight to the office that was directly across from his own—he had made a phone call to Stefan Leinart, who was the current president of Germany.

"From the administration of the main building of the Chancellery, we say hello; how may I be of service to you?" a lady asked after his call was answered.

"I need to speak with Mr. Stefan Leinart at once please." he said. "It is very important that I speak with him."

"Sir, I am afraid that, unless you have an appointment, I cannot allow that to happen. Mr. Leinart is a very busy man." the woman replied.

"I suggest that you pass it along that I need to speak with him. I have a very important client that I think he should meet." he returned.

"I'm afraid that I cannot do that, sir." the lady said. He explained his situation quickly before snapping his trap shut; while the lady listened to him, she said nothing in return. After keeping him waiting for ten seconds, she said for him to hold on.

It took a "short" while before his request was granted; due to his nerves, he was barely able to speak when his country's president picked up the phone. He told the man that he had the heroine herself, Angel Irene, the daughter of the horrid monster that had somehow gotten into the shields that had kept him out of the cities and towns of North and South America for over two thousand years, in his office and that she was looking for a three-bedroom apartment to move her large family into.

All while talking to President Leinart, he was keeping an eye on his office; if his client decided to leave, he would of seen her. Luckily, for him, she had waited for his return. Mr. Leinart had asked for him to keep her in his office as long as he could until he got there, and he had also said for him to look up some houses for the woman; with the conversation between he and Stefan Leinart being done nearly twenty minutes ago, he was starting to wonder if the man was coming at all.

He had done as the man had said for him to; after hanging the phone up, then returning to his office, he exited the search that he was doing then started a new one for a house that had more than three rooms in it. So far, his new search was proving to be quite daunting. Nothing of what he was finding was good enough for his client—either the houses were too small, or they needed certain, substantial repairs to them, or the yards that they were on were small or shabbily cared for. He was also looking at the neighborhoods that the houses were in; he agreed with his client on the residence's location firmly—he did not want her and her family to move into a bad area where one would have to constantly watch his or her back. His client had five sons to care for and look after; he was sure that she didn't want to be worried to a frazzle about some thievin' punks or gangsters jumping on and then hurting her or her kids for whatever monetary possessions they had on their persons or about who could possibly try to break into their new home.

 _"Four sons, right?"_

 _"Five,"_

The fact that she had five sons now instead of four had been another shock for him because, if he recalled correctly, she had only had four when she was living in the small American town of Green River, that was in the state of Wyoming, that was in western North America.

According to the newspapers that he had read, Ms. Irene and all of her sons had gone missing in November of last year; they were only noted as being missing after their apartment exploded. Ms. Irene's whereabouts weren't known for all of four months—when they were discovered, she was in a small town that was located in Colorado, which was another of North America's western states. A hailstorm had happened with the news outlets after her whereabouts were discovered; many stories on her were made and he had either watched or read each and every one of them. In one of the newspaper articles, a quote from her was included, which simply said that she and her five sons were fine—after reading this article, he read it again. In another of the newspaper articles that he had read, it was said that she and four of her five sons were taken captive by one of the aliens that showed up near Green River, Wyoming—after getting a confirmation on how many sons she had, and with what she might have gone through during the months that she wasn't on Earth, he thought that one of her sons was an infant.

None of the outlets had said a thing on what happened between her disappearance and reappearance; either she kept the details to herself or, if she told, the ones who wrote the articles or did the news hadn't included them in their stories. If an infant was born, he feared that she was raped—it had happened with her once before... the brute of a fader of hers, who was currently taking over North and South America, had done it to her more than once in the past. The best thing was that she was back and, what was even greater, she looked in great shape. If she had recently given birth then she held the record for the world's fastest post-pregnancy weight loss—she did not look like she had given birth recently! Her body didn't bear any signs of a recent pregnancy and she was showing no signs of fatigue from having to deal with the demands of a newborn. If she had recently given birth, he figured that her newborn was around a month to a month and a half in age.

"Where are your boys, ma'am?" he asked. He figured that getting her to talk was a good way to keep her in his office; women loved talking about their kids, so he latched onto that subject.

"Brenners Park, probably sitting under a tree or around a campfire." his client replied. "They're all good kids... not a one has done anything bad in their lives."

"Where have you and they been staying these past six months?" he asked.

"In caves," she replied. "We started living in medium-sized caves in the parks of North America—near civilization. We've been living in medium-sized caves in Africa and Egypt for about two months now. The boys enjoyed it, and they enjoyed the wildlife and the chance to hunt and fish."

"They good huntsmen and fishermen?" he asked.

"Mhmmm," his client nodded her head. "Taught them myself. They're very good hunters and fishermen. Been keeping me busy in cooking the meat that they bring in and the fish that they catch. They take care of the pelts and any other trophies that they wish to keep."

"I bet they make you a very proud mumma. Bet they have a lot of trophies from them hunts." he said.

"Of course, I'm very proud of each of my boys. They get along great; they do fight but only in a normal way and, yes, they do have a lot of hunting trophies." his client smiled a proud smile. "I can't see myself without them; even sitting here, I wish to be with them."

"The mummy instinct is strong in you, I like that." he said back.

He increased the speed of his search after she voiced her desire in wanting to be with her sons—he took her saying that as a sign that she wanted to leave his office. Since he didn't want that to happen until Mr. Leinart showed up, he started looking up homes faster and he started thinking up further questions that'd keep her here.

The faster-paced search that he was doing was bringing up some results; some that he didn't much like while others looked to be appropriate for his client. Here was a four-bedroom house that was near a park and that was on a good lot of land; after finding it, he sent its information to the printer. Here was a house that had five bedrooms, two full baths, and a nice front and back yard to it; it was near a town. Like with the other house, he sent its information to the printer. Here was another four-bedroom house that had a bath and a half and a nice backyard to it. Due to the small size of the house's front yard, he debated on it for a few seconds before pressing the print button.

As he continued his search, he looked at his wrist-watch. Twenty minutes had turned into half an hour—Stefan Leinart had said that he would be here soon... He began to wonder how soon was soon.

While he didn't know Stefan Leinart personally, he did know that the man was rather nice; he had won the presidency in a landslide by promising to keep everything fair and just and by promising to be a fair and just leader. So far, nearly six months after he won his campaign, he was holding them promises up. He had gotten several parks cleaned and repaired, several national landmarks were repaired on his behalf, and he had personally paid out from his own pocket the cost of repairing what was needed to be repaired in several airports. He had also seen to the increase in pay for minorities. Workplace benefits had also been increased thanks to the man. Several silly, not-needed taxes had also been dropped thanks to him.

Stefan Leinart was a smart, kind man, and he was married to an equally smart and kind woman who had birthed him three children—two daughters and a son. They lived modestly and they didn't flaunt their cash, even though they were loaded with it.

"So, why did you choose to change your and your sons' living conditions?" he asked.

"It's just time for a change—a more modern, civilized life is needed for us now." his client replied. "I don't want my boys to get "wild'—they do need to be around people, and modern civilization."

"Cave living easy?"

"Can be right tedious. Have to boil water to make sure its healthy to drink and cook with; have to make sure that the food's cooked well or else, someone will get very sick with a parasite; and you have to watch out for them predators." his client replied. "We've had a few instances were wild cats have come into the caves that we've lived in—while we were in Africa, one of my sons was grabbed and then nearly yanked clear out of our cave by a lion."

"Was he okay afterwards?" he asked. He stopped his search long enough to take in what she was about to say.

"Yes—other than being scared half to death, and having a few bite marks to his leg and foot, he was fine. The poor thing refused to sleep at night for a week after it happened."

"Did he get any infections or anything on the areas that were bitten by the lion?"

"No, I used one of my healing abilities to take care of the wounds. He did have a slight limp for a few days—he walks fine now."

"When did that happen?"

"Two weeks ago."

As he resumed his search for a good home for his client—the one that he looked at before being told about the lion-encounter had a pool in its backyard; due to the residence being over a hundred years old, he bypassed it. usually, there were a lot of issues involved with houses of that type—he thought about the attack that his client had just told him about.

He pictured it in his mind; the vicious, man-eating lion wandered into the cave that his client and her sons were using as a residence. The animal walked stealthily along, taking special care to not make a sound as it took in the area's sights and smells before, finally, lunging for one of the sleeping beings that weren't aware of its presence. In his imagination, he saw the lion grabbing the leg of the boy that his client had just mentioned; the boy was fast in screaming, and in thrashing about, after feeling himself as being grabbed—the lion, unfazed by its prey's antics, dragged him from his sleeping space and family. The animal was only able to drag the boy a few feet before his mother sprang into action; a fight, where his client had used one of her powers—the one where she could change into some other form came to his mind effortlessly—to stave the predator off, had happened before the lion dropped the boy then turned tail and ran. The last scene that he saw in his imagination was of his client ushering her scared and injured son back into the cave for medical treatment and comforting.

"How's that search coming along?" his client asked him again. He detected the notes of

impatience and nervousness in her voice.

"Very good, ma'am. I've found several apartments for you and your sons." he answered before getting to his feet. "If you'll please wait here, I've sent all that I've found to the printer. I'll be only a second in retrieving what I've found for you."

"I'll be here when you get back. I'm looking forward to what you've found." the woman replied.

He left his office then went straight to the printer; the information on the houses that he found in his search was swiftly retrieved. With the information on the houses in-hand, he went to the office that he had used nearly forty minutes ago; he was worried that something had either come up or that he was given a sort of empty promise. With his being a politician, Stefan Leinart _was_ a right busy man; maybe he wasn't able to get away from the building, or had a change of mind or something. He had just placed his hand on the office's door knob when, from the corner of his eye, he saw a stoutly built man, who had a youthful face despite being in his early fifties, coming down the hallway towards him. He turned his head and saw, to his disbelief, that the man that was walking towards him was none other than the new president of Germany.

The man wore a black tuxedo—the jacket had notched lapels on it that were right shiny—with matching black shoes. The brown coat that was lying across Mr. Leinart's arm looked rather expensive. The man, despite being fifty-three years of age, had a headful of orange-brown hair; the eyes that were set in the man's round face were hazel-colored. Mr. Stefan Leinart walked up to him briskly; he grabbed him by the shoulder then pulled him in close—a bit too close for his comfort! He tried to pull back a step but the man kept him where he was. The clean smell, that was present to the man, was normal and pleasant while the one of mothballs nearly caused him to cough.

The man asked him one question before releasing him; he was fast in answering it before edging past him then going to his office. The door to his office was closed; he had closed it to give his client some privacy and to, hopefully, keep her from leaving the building. He grabbed and then twisted the knob on the door; soon after he and Mr. Leinart walked into the room, his client stiffened in her chair. The nervous look, that was in her emerald-green eyes, was swiftly replaced with defensive anger that they were fast in noting.

"Whatever's going on, I want no part of it." his client said as she stood up from the chair. After getting to her feet, she started towards him and Mr. Leinart.

"Miss. Irene, I mean you no harm. I'm only here to help you in your and your sons' time of need." Stefan Leinart said smoothly and calmly. "Mr. Heiberg, here, tells me that you're looking to reside in my country. My name's Stefan Leinart—I'm the president of this country and I only wish to help you and your sons in getting settled here."

She stood before them; eyes flashing and darting, going from one to the other, looking to see if they were dangerous or benevolent. To Arnold Heiberg, she looked drop dead gorgeous—a term that the teenagers were saying. To Stefan Leinart, she looked beautiful but on-alert, which meant that trouble could happen. He had seen the papers and had heard the news on both the tube and the radio; this woman's fader was really creating havoc across the Atlantic for all human and animal life. This woman, who was so revered by the planet's people, was the cause for the pink shields being up; if not for them shields, the planet's history would of already been threatened and, quite possibly, changed. Her shields, along with protecting humanity from the aliens and monsters that dropped by with evil agendas, also protected the animals that roamed the planet. While the shields had come down a few times, she had always been there to replace them.

The woman that was walking towards him had disappeared over two thousand years ago—just after her secondborn son reached the age of nine months. Though it was presumed that the monsters who pursued her had captured her no one had known where she went. The presuming that everyone did was proven correct on the day of her return—along with making a return to her planet of birth and raising, she returned with two young infants and two mid-aged children. She had maintained the shields, had fixed a few of them up, then had disappeared for a while—presumably to take care of the four little ones that she returned with. She wasn't seen again for quite a while—for over two hundred years—then, when she was seen again, she was in the state of Oklahoma, which was one of the middle states on the North American continent. All four of her sons were with her. She stayed in Oklahoma for a short while before moving far north—she and her sons had lived in Canada for a right long time before moving down to a place called Green River, which was a city a right long time ago before downsizing to become a town. She and her sons had called Green River, Wyoming home for over three hundred years before disappearing; according to the papers, they disappeared either before, during, or after their apartment went up in a plume of green smoke on December 13, 4099.

It was speculated that a gas leak was the cause for the apartment's explosion; the apartment was pretty old—in many of the newspaper articles that he had read, it was claimed that the apartment was around four hundred years old. Miss. Irene found it one day in New York state then did something with either her magic or with her abilities to make it appear in Wyoming state. For reasons that had yet to be explained, most of the state of Wyoming was evacuated because of radiation poisoning, which occurred after the apartment exploded; as a precaution, several counties of the neighboring state of Colorado were also evacuated. While the apartment exploding, and the radiation alerts in Wyoming and Colorado was a shock, everyone was more concerned about the disappearance of Miss. Irene and her sons.

People that she knew, or that lived around her and her family, were questioned—not much was learned until the investigators spoke to some of the people that she worked with. It was discovered that her monstrous family had shown up three months before and that some issues were encountered with them. Curiously, Miss. Irene and her sons disappeared at the same time that the aliens and monsters that made up her family left the planet.

There were a few who had thought that they had perished in the explosion; some had said that they had seen Miss. Irene or one of her sons after the explosion; and around a dozen or so had tried to claim themselves as being her. For four months, she was deemed as missing then, on the dawn of nearly everyone forgetting the apartment's destruction, she suddenly appeared in a town in Colorado. It was just her that was seen—none of her sons were with her. Upon being question on her disappearance, the original assumption of her being abducted by her alien family was verified.

While the man beside him thought that she had an infant to look after he thought otherwise—he had checked the newspaper articles from the months prior to her disappearance and not a one mentioned her as giving birth to a fifth child. He figured that the mention of Miss. Irene having a fifth child was a misprint, a fluke in the newspaper system, or, quite possibly, someone within the newspaper business being too excited and not watching what he or she was putting in the column. The typical term for a human pregnancy was between eight and a half and nine months; there were no mentions in the newspapers about Miss. Irene dating anyone or looking pregnant before her alien family decided to show up and Miss. Irene had only been gone for four months. She would not of returned with an infant in-tote if she had caught pregnant during her captivity.

"What is it that you wish to help me with, Mr. Leinart?" Angel Irene asked after calming down some. "I came here asking for help in finding an apartment for my sons and I to reside in... I didn't come here looking for trouble."

"You're perfectly safe here—no trouble will find you while you and your sons are here." Stefan Leinart assured her. "How many rooms are you looking for in the apartment that you're looking to move your family into?"

"Three—it has to have two bathrooms in it."

"Miss. Irene, if I may, an apartment is much too small for a family of five to live comfortably in." Stefan Leinart replied after hearing what she was looking for. "You should be asking for a house instead; you and your children would be at each other's throats if you were all living in an apartment—conditions would be cramped... there'd be no space or privacy for anyone."

"We'll do fine—our former residence was a two-bedroom apartment; we did just fine in it. A house would cost too much—I only have $12,288 on me, which is enough for an apartment only." Angel replied.

"You let me worry about the cost of your resident home, ma'am." Stefan said. "How many are in your family again? Five?"

"Six—I have five sons." Angel said quickly. She was quiet for a short thirty seconds before speaking again. "Mr. Leinart, while what you've proposed to do is nice and all, I cannot accept that sort of charity. Although my sons are very well-behaved, and would help out with the care of a house, a house is just a lot for us to deal with; an apartment is much more in my comfort area, sir."

"I have confidence that you and your sons will do well in a house." Stefan said. "It is the least I can do for the heroine who both re-wrote the history books and kept us safe from the beast that is now wreaking havoc in the Americas."

"I'd go for a house instead of an apartment, Miss. Irene. You and your sons will be much more comfortable. You won't have any problems with the home or with the people around it—I made sure to look up neighborhoods that have good, honest people in them." Arnold Heiberg said.

"My sons and I do have to keep things on a down-scale, Mr. Leinart. We're sort of on the run... from my father, and from others as well. We're wanted—we're being searched for all over the Universe." Angel Irene said. "My husband has really been putting a lot of effort into finding us, I don't want to move into a house that you've paid for only to be taken from the planet and have you stuck with a property that you don't need nor want."

"You're much too kind, Miss. Irene. I understand your concern. It's no problem of mine to help you at all. I insist that you get a house." Stefan replied before turning to look at Arnold. "Mr. Heiberg, did you look up the housing that I asked you to when we spoke over the phone?"

"Yes. Found five houses—two that have four bedrooms, one that has six, and two that have five." Arnold Heiberg replied.

"Good. Now, Miss. Irene—I understand where you're coming from. You're scared for yourself and for your sons. This country is a safe place for you and for them. You won't have to worry a bit about your or their safety while you reside here. I promise you that. Are your sons nearby?" Stefan asked.

"Yes, they're in Brenners Park."

"My van is just outside—if you'll please follow me to it. I'll drive to Brenners with you then we'll pick your boys up then we'll get started on looking for a house for you and them to live in." Stefan said. He gave Arnold Heiberg a look; there were no words spoken between neither man—Arnold knew by instinct what he was being asked for. He gave the folder that had the information on the houses that he had found over then he stepped out of the way. Stefan Leinart, with Angel Irene following closely behind him, exited his office then started down the hallway; as they went down the hallway, Arnold heard his client trying to change Stefan Leinart's mind on the house that he had said he'd buy for her and her sons.


	2. Chapter 2

The plague of 3080... what a fine event to think of on this nice evening. It was horrible! The books, that were written on it, had very nearly been placed in the horror sections of most libraries and bookstores and the films that were made on it had made many people sick. The books, while being terrifying in themselves, hadn't come close to the films, which, while being very accurate, had also been very gruesomely detailed; much of the masses that watched them were born three generations after the plague was beat. Due to the plague being mostly forgotten by the masses, the historical meaning and purpose behind the films was misunderstood—about three months after the films were released to the public, the directors came forward in a press conference; along with stating the fact of their films being based on actual events, and on an actual, real-life illness called the Chamydia Plague, they had also said that it claimed over two billion lives.

While the Chamydia Plague was more merciful to the people of the Americas, of Australia, and of the island nations in both the eastern and western hemispheres, it claimed nearly every family in Europe, Eurasia, Africa, and the island nation of Madagascar. It took a long time for them nations to recover after the vaccine was made and then issued to the public. Due to the plague, a rift had happened between the people of Europe and their governments; while Russia, France, England, and Britain had retained their governments, the countries of Germany, Switzerland, Austria, the Netherlands, Belgium, and Poland had to change the way their governments worked.

Germany became a federal parliamentary republic, that operated under a parliamentary system of government, on a federal level, after the entire country was fully united on October 3, 1990. It remained a federal parliamentary republic for one thousand and ninety years until June of 3084, when it changed to become a presidential system, where the head of government was also the head of state. One thousand and twenty years had passed since this change; the government was still much the same as it was when it changed over. Of the one thousand and five people elected to be the leader of his country, he was the nine hundred and eighty-ninth man chosen by the masses to be president.

"The joke—that was what they called me during my campaign."

The tabloids had said that his campaign was going from professional to cartoony almost immediately after he started running for the presidency's open slot. The gossip wasn't damning or hurtful to his campaign, and he wasn't fazed by it—it had just been played off on something that he had in the cars that he drove. Both of his vehicles had something similar hanging from their rear view mirrors; a small, plush, Daffy Duck was hanging from the mirror of his Shuttle Van while the vehicle that he mostly drove to work in had Sylvester and the Tasmanian Devil hanging from its mirror. On the dashboard of the vehicle that he was currently driving, there was a bob-a-head Tweety bird; a Wile E. Coyote bob-a-head was on the dash of his other car.

The Looney Tunes show was a right big program in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries; it fell out of favor in the following two centuries only to return to its former glory afterwards. He started liking the show at a right young age. Daffy Duck was hilarious; Bugs Bunny was clever; Elmer Fudd was another hilarious character—he liked how this character was always bested by Bugs Bunny. Tweety was another clever character; Sylvester was his cat-nemesis. Foghorn Leghorn was a hoot—ah-say, ah-say—and Marvin the Martian was clever and dangerous. Bugs Bunny had a lot of nemeses; his first was Elmer Fudd then Yosemite Sam, an aggressive, gunslinging prospector, outlaw, cowboy, or pirate with a hair-trigger temper and an intense hatred for rabbits, was added. Marvin the Martian was added to the plate soon after Yosemite Sam was added to the show. Daffy Duck was a sort of competitor for everyone's attention so he couldn't really be considered a nemesis of Bugs's.

During his kid-years, he went through many Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, and Marvin the Martian night lights; when he went to school, he used pencils and other school-related memorabilia of them characters. After starting college, he started to mature a bit. The mass-use of Looney Tunes pencils, erasers, and other memorabilia had stopped... or nearly so, since he kept a few stickers in his books for luck. Jokes were played on the woman that he married soon after graduating from college; he told her that he was going to use a Daffy Duck wedding ring to propose with and he also told her that he was going to fill the seats of their wedding venue with Daffy Duck, Bugs Bunny, and other Looney Tunes characters. She came back each and every time saying that he was going to sleep on the couch with a human-sized Looney Tunes stuffed toy if he ever did so.

His kids knew the characters well; his youngest child adored Bugs while his oldest claimed that Daffy Duck and Donald Duck—a Disney cartoon character—were related, which was very possible since they did look alike. He and his oldest child had a sort of rivalry going on with the Tunes. He liked the Looney's and she liked the Disney; she claimed that Looney Tunes had gotten its ideas from Disney while he said that they were two, different cartoon shows based very similarly to one another. She liked Minnie and Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and Goofy the most. When he started running for the open slot that the old president had left behind, the tabloids had said that he was going to dress the country in Tune art and have the babies and toddlers dress up in cartoon attire; a Daffy Duck nose was put on his face in cartoons and comic strips were made of him saying that he was going to run the country like a "Tune". He laughed at all the gossip, answered the questions presented to him, then waited for the time to vote to come. He won his campaign in a landslide; his competitor had come nowhere near him.

Besides the ZAP Electric Shuttle Van that he was driving, he had an Elantra Coupe X5. He mostly used to Elantra to drive to and then from work in; for some strange reason, he had felt compelled to drive his Shuttle Van that day—normally, he'd grumble when he had to go to his second office, which was located in the city of Bonn, Germany. On that day, he did no grumbling over having to drive to that office. Now that he had a very important passenger in the passenger seat beside him, and was expecting to pick up five others that were of equal importance, he was glad that he had made that decision.

"Glad to see that these are still being honored and passed down to the next generation." his passenger said after seeing the bob-a-head Tweety bird and the hanging, Daffy Duck rear view mirror adornment.

"I'm a Tune-man, Miss. Irene. Been loving the Looney's since I was a kid." he replied. "My wife and kids know the characters and have seen the shows. My kids even like the Disney 'toons as well."

"I was around when Steamboat Willy was first shown in 1928—he was very popular." Angel Irene said. "Glad to see that your kids have seen the classics; there's too much junk being put on the tube nowadays. The networks need to go back to the nice, innocent stuff for the kids."

"I agree," Stefan Leinart nodded his head. "Ever seen the likes of Family Guy or—"

"That's what I was meaning—them shows are not for kids. Kids don't need to be watching shows where a cartoon character does drugs, drinks or smokes, does vandalism, or is gruesomely injured."

"In my opinion, the Cleveland Show that is continuously being shown is even worse." Stefan said. When his passenger said nothing back, he decided to be quiet.

When he saw the mile long look fall over her face, he figured that it and her silence was caused by one thing and one thing only—her kids. She had five, all boys, and she had said that they were in Brenners Park. He didn't know where they were in the park but he was sure that she did; he'd let her do the work in retrieving them after they got there.

Baden-Baden, Germany had endured a lot over the last two thousand years; it was lucky to still be around. By the grace of God, and by the vices of a lot of people who had not wanted the town to be abandoned, it was saved. Even though Baden-Baden was a spa town it did have its communities and neighborhoods; it was located in the northern foothills of the Black Forest, on the banks of the Oos River, in close proximity to France and Switzerland. Two World Wars had nearly wiped it clean off the map but the people had pulled together to bring it back from certain death. When the plagues came around, people had abandoned the town for their homes then, when the plagues concluded, they had flocked back to resume their formerly abandoned lives. It normally got to seventy-one degrees in the town, with nighttime temperatures dropping to fifty-four degrees in the spring and summer seasons. This night wasn't a normal one; the people who did the weather had said that it'd get to around thirty degrees—this was why he was driving faster then normal.

There were five kids in Brenners Park. Five kids who were important civilians of his planet—he didn't want them kept waiting in the cold. Although he had only been driving for two minutes, the traffic around him made it seem more like twenty. He had another few minutes to go before actually getting to the park.

"The park is located right behind the Brenners Park-Hotel & Spa..." he thought while continuing down the road.

While it was on the grounds of the hotel, it was a public place that was readibly accessible to the people. There were trails that one could walk down and, since the park had a stretch of the Oos river in its topography, one could also indulge in a little peaceful fishing or wildlife watching. There were nicely trimmed hedges going along the outer reaches of the park; the rolling green lawn that was in the area was mowed several times a year and the trees that were on either side of the hotel-given trails were healthy and rather lovely. The park's small, man-made pond was where Geese could be seen; the Koi fish that were in the pond were gathered every year after the summer season ended. The park also had several benches and small fountains placed throughout its grounds; there were also all sorts of purple, blue, yellow, and white flowers in the area as well.

It was a right lovely area; couples walked the trails with their hands linked romantically, or ate picnics on spread-out blankets that they placed on the grass. For people who needed a take a breather from either their stressful lives or busy schedules, it was a good place to go to too. Besides the hotel that was on the outskirts of the park, there were also several spa buildings—the city of Baden-Baden was a spa town after all, and it would look a little funny without having them in it. He thought that his very important passenger's decision to leave her sons in Brenners Park was a wise one; it was very safe and, being that the sun had just dropped for the day, there would be nobody walking its grounds. Her sons wouldn't be bothered.

Tourism was big in this city; if one wanted to take home a souvenir, there were many buildings that catered to that need. There were many restaurants, both indoor and out, and there were also many hotels, some that did cost a lot per room and others that were modest in their room prices. There were theaters, museums, and casinos; there was old Castle Hohenbaden, a large building that was built in 1102 that was now a maintained ruin of historical importance; and there was also New Castle, the 15th century residence of the margraves of Baden and, later on, the grand dukes of Baden, that now housed the historical museum. The Roman baths, that were over four thousand years old; the city's numerous churches, that were of spectacular beauty; and Fremersberg Tower, a concrete reinforced telecommunications tower that was built in 1961, were major tourist attractions. So was the view of Mount Merkur, the mountain that shielded the town from the more powerful storms that blew in from across the Rhine river.

"Several hundred years ago, this town had no communities to it. That changed after the plagues and natural disasters happened."

There was the Stadt der Hoffnung—the Town of Hope—to the west. To the east, there was Der Kleine Frühlings—The Little Spring. And, to the south, there was the community of Westliche Tor—the Western Gate. All of these communities had the usual accommodations: grocery stores, toy stores, car dealerships, churches, public gyms, public and private pools, libraries, parks, schools, etc. There were also several Energy Stations in each of the communities' shopping areas; the gas stations of old were completely redone as vehicles no longer ran on gasoline—vehicles now ran on energy, which was so much more healthier than gasoline... not to mention, it also made for the engine of a vehicle to last longer.

There was one small community that wasn't really a full community to the north—it was a rough community that he wished to keep his important passenger, of whom he actually had a small fight with after they left the real estate building of Maxas, and her sons from. He fought the urge to shake his head; before relenting to him and his wish in driving her to her sons' location, she put in a little fuss.

"Bile, are you and your brothers still where I left you when I left to go to the offices of Maxas?" Stefan turned his head to the side slightly; the passenger that was beside him had a small, circular thing in the palm of her hand that had a large speaker on its top and three buttons on the side that was facing him. The button that was pressed down looked to be blue; the one beside it was yellow while the one that was beside it was red.

"Should I pull up to the front of the park or to one of its side entrances?" Stefan asked.

"No ma, the hobo-zombies that reside here attacked us right after you left. I don't know where my brothers are—I was badly torn up! My guts are all over the ground; you are now speaking to my ghost." a deep voice that sounded very strong and powerful came through the device that Angel Irene had in her hand.

"Mom, we are still where you left us." another voice, this one, while not being as deep as the first one, was rather low but still strong and powerful, came through the device next.

"Thank you. You five be ready, I'll be there in less than five minutes." Angel Irene said after pressing the blue button that was on the side of her talking device. She released the button then turned to look at Stefan. "It's a communicator, nothing dangerous. It's like a walkie or a cellular."

"I figured it was a sort of communications device. Is it frequently used by the ones who aren't of this planet?" Stefan asked.

"Yes. What was your question before my son responded to my call?"

"I was asking if I should pull up and then park by the front entrance of Brenners or at one of its side entrances." Stefan said.

"I have no idea which entrance my sons are near. I left my boys near a big tree that had three benches set up in a triangle around it. It wasn't in the center of the park... it was near a big building." Angel Irene replied.

"Was there a sign on the building?"

"Yes—Sterne Luxus."

"Near the front entrance. We'll be there in less than two minutes."

He drove on; being careful to watch where he was going, and making sure to not clip any fenders or damage any cars while doing so. As he drove, questions abound in his head about the two boys that spoke through the device that Angel Irene had used. He knew that the older of Miss. Irene's sons was sired by her own fader—the man had raped and then claimed her as his Incestuous Mate, or wife, if one so chose to use such wording. Her oldest child wasn't really her oldest child—before his conception occurred, she caught for the same man; unlike her oldest child, she hadn't kept this one. The one who was aborted was also conceived through rape.

After being caught, and then catching for the man again, she was forced to live in his residence for seven months before escaping. He had heard that she was forced to carry the child and that, all throughout her pregnancy, she had said that she didn't want it.

After escaping from her evil fader's clutches, she returned to Earth; she relied on her instincts in the deserts of Egypt for a few weeks. While hunting to provide for herself, and for her then-unborn child, she formed a bond with the child that she was carrying. She gave birth to her first child a few weeks later; the child was accepted right after being born. Her second, third, and fourth children were conceived naturally; she wasn't forced to have intercourse with the man who fadered them. The origins of the fifth child were up in the air; he didn't know how her fifth child was conceived and he didn't know how old he was—he honestly believed that she was somewhat confused over the happenings that were going on in the Americas. From what she had said, the one who spoke through her communcations device first was her oldest son; she had said nothing on who the other one was. It could of been Lhaklar, her secondborn son; or it could of been Hazaar, her thirdborn son; or maybe even Lazeer, her fourthborn son.

"I'll only be a minute or two. Five minutes top." Angel Irene said after he parked his van in front of the darkening Brenners Park. She got out of his vehicle then, after hesitating for a short second or two, she turned around; he got a feeling that she was about to ask him to do her a big favor. His feeling proved to be very true a few seconds later. "You've been very kind in doing this but, please, do me a favor in showing my sons some respect. Please, don't stare."

"Of course, Miss. Irene."

He found himself feeling a tad bit offended; he had always been respectful of others. Even as a kid, he had respected others. Despite his mild offense, he knew that she had only said that because of her children—they were all alien-born... none of them were human. Three of her sons looked to have that old, fabled alien species—the Grays—in their genetic make-up while her oldest looked like his fader, who was a very powerful, and feared, demonic creature. Yes, it was in a human being's nature to look, and stare, at something that was strange but, with him being the person that he was, he wasn't going to give any long stares. He might give a glance or two but he'd not stare for any length of time. Staring made people uncomfortable; it made them think that they did something wrong or that there was something wrong with their physical appearance.

Some people got stared at because of the way they present themselves; they either wore clothing that was outrageous or they had so much makeup on their faces that they looked like clowns. There were also people who got stared at because of their physical appearance—a snaggle-tooth, a jaw that was lop-sided, a scar of some type that was either very deep or noticeable, or, quite possibly, they had some facial hair that was out of place. Nowadays, youngsters walked around with all sorts of outrageous piercings on their bodies—in their eyebrows, foreheads, and even in their upper or lower lips and belly buttons. There were youngsters who also walked around with earlobe stretchers in their ears—the kind that made the earlobe become dry, cracked, and deformed after a period of time. Why the kids did all them piercings to their bodies was beyond him; he had made sure that his and his wife's kids knew the rights and wrongs of piercings. He was glad that his oldest child didn't go around or have such pieces on her body.

He turned in his seat after the thought of Miss. Irene's kids possibly having things—bags or suitcases full of clothes, boxes full of things that only they knew of, etc.—of their own on their persons crossed his mind. Although he had his Looney Tunes bob-a-head and rear view hangers up his car's front, the back was very clean. There were two rows of seats behind him; three persons could easily sit in the first row while three others could sit in the row behind it. There was also some space behind the second row—Miss. Irene's kids could put their things there or, if they wanted to, they could put them on their laps or down on the floorboards in front of them.

Another thought occurred to him as he was looking at the back of his vehicle: Miss. Irene and her sons might not of had anything to eat for a while. He couldn't have them looking at potential homes while having empty stomachs; he made plans right then and there to treat them to a restaurant. Did Miss. Irene's sons like the usual cuisine that a human ate? Did they like pizza, hamburgers, hot dogs, and french fries or did they like food that was weird, or that a human would gag at the sight and smell of? He figured that he'd find out soon; when he resumed the appropriate way of sitting in the driver's seat, he saw, off in the distance, two sets of glowing orbs coming at him. He also saw the red glow of Miss. Irene's hair. The sight of them glowing orbs—one a yellow-green color while the other being a full yellow color—, and the glow from Miss. Irene's hair, mesmerized him for nearly twenty seconds; when he snapped to, he reached back to unlock the sliding door that was on the right side of his vehicle. He had just leaned back in his seat when Miss. Irene walked up; she started ushering out orders to the boys that she had gone to retrieve right after appearing at his vehicle's side.

"Alright—Lhaklar, I want you to get in first."

He kept his word on not staring at her sons; he took note of who was getting into his van by either looking out from the corner of his eye or by looking at his rear view mirror. The youngster that Miss. Irene had just told to get into his vehicle stood beside his van for a little while before getting in; his hesitation allowed him to make a quick estimate on his height, and on his body build. The young fellow stood about six foot, one and he had a rather athletically built body. When the fellow started the chore of getting into his van, he saw that it was Lhaklar, his heroine's secondborn son.

The youngster that was getting into his van had an upside-down, teardrop-shaped head that sported two large, oval-shaped, pistachio colored eyes that were right shiny; it looked like the kid's eyes had a silverish undertone to them, which he thought was unique. Two holes where a nose would normally be were under them eyes; an O-shaped mouth was under them. When the kid placed his hand on the back of the passenger seat, he saw that he had suction cups on the ends of each of his fingers. The young fellow was wearing a pair of brown canvas pants and a brown and green checkered shirt that had buttons going down the front. The shoes that were on his feet were brown. The jacket—brown in color, and sheepskin-like in texture—that he was wearing wasn't buttoned. He had a dark brown duffel bag with him that looked stuffed to capacity; the long, rolled up rug, that was hanging from his shoulder, had a white cord rope tied around its ends.

Lhaklar wasted no time in getting into his van; he sat quietly behind him.

"Hazaar, you next."

The kid that got in next was Angel Irene's thirdborn son; while different than Lhaklar, he did look to be related. Like with Lhaklar, he estimated the kid's height as he stood idly by his vehicle. He found that the kid was five foot, eleven inches tall; when he started getting into his van, he saw that he had dark blue skin and a lean body build. Hazaar's head was shaped much like Lhaklar's—it was an upside-down teardrop. His eyes, though, were of the wrap-around sort—they were a rather shiny, deep purple color. Hazaar's face was set much like Lhaklar's; there were two holes where a nose would normally be while, under them, was an O-shaped mouth. When the kid got into the car, he saw that he had a deep purple rattail sticking out from the nape of the back of his head—the rattail was around four and a half inches long, and it looked rather well-kept.

The kid was wearing a brown shirt that was tucked into a pair of multi-brown pants that were faded slightly at the knees—the thigh regions of the kid's pants were greatly faded in comparison. The shoes that the kid had on his feet were brown; they had light brown laces on them. The light brown jacket, that Hazaar was wearing, had a zipper going down its front and a hoodie on the collar; like Lhaklar's, it wasn't zipped.

Stefan chanced a glance back only once after Hazaar was seated; in this glance, he saw that, like his older brother, he had suction cups on the ends of each of his fingers.

"Alright—Bile, I want you in the row behind Lhaklar and Hazaar." Angel Irene said.

"Yes, ma."

The son of the demonic creature that was taking over the Americas got in next; he had to really keep from staring at him. The kid was Angel Irene's firstborn son and boy was tall! He stood six foot, three inches and his body was pretty big and strong—the kid had to weigh somewhere over two hundred pounds! The kid that was getting into his van had elongated ears that went only half the length of his shoulders; except for the light green, Tiger-like stripes, that were on them, they were a dark green color. The kid's head was bi-colored, with the left side being yellow and the right being green. The pair of glowing yellow-green orbs, that he saw earlier, had belonged to this kid; they had black pupils in their centers.

The firstborn son of Miss. Irene was wearing a pair of dark brown pants; the dark brown shirt, that he was also wearing, had some rips and tears in the chest and stomach areas. The pair of dark brown boots, that were on his feet, looked pretty heavy. The jacket, that the kid was wearing, looked of the thin or light variety—it was a light red color; it wasn't buttoned up. Just from hearing the kid's voice, which was deep, strong, and powerful sounding, he knew that this was the one who had spoken to his mutter when his mutter had used her communications device earlier. When the kid placed his hand on the back of one of the seats to steady himself, he saw that he had long, dark yellow fingernails, that ended in sharp points, on each of his fingers. The duffel bag, and the rolled up rug, that Bile had on him, looked almost like the ones that Hazaar had; Hazaar's duffel bag was a light brown color while Bile's was light gray. The rolled up rug, that Hazaar had with him, was a dark green color while Bile's was dark blue.

Bile was silent as he sat in the seat that was behind Lhaklar's; he placed his things on his lap then stared forward.

"Okay—Guyunis, I want you to get in next. Lazeer, you follow. No fighting now." Angel Irene said.

His jaw nearly dropped in shock over what climbed into his Shuttle Van next. He was raised a Catholic since birth. He was still a Catholic. The belief that demonic beings were typically clouded in shadow, or were monstrous beings, was confirmed in exorcisms. What climbed into his vehicle looked almost spot-on for the shadow-type demon.

At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him—he could barely see the kid that was standing just to the right of Miss. Irene. From what he could tell, the kid looked to be shifting his weight from one foot to the other. When the kid started to climb into his vehicle, he saw that his eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him—the kid's skin was as black as a starless, moonless night. The bright yellow eyes, that were in the kid's face, were shaped like scalene triangles. The young fellow's complexion was so dark... he couldn't make out any of his facial features. All he could see were the eyes.

The kid looked pretty strong; his body was big and full of muscle—the greatest muscle build-up seemed to be on his arms, chest, shoulders, and back. From what he could make out, the kid's waist on down was more slender in build. The kid stood six foot, three and a half inches; he was wearing only three things: a pair of black jeans, that went down to just below his knees—they had tears in the lower legs and in the upper thigh regions—, a pair of brown boots, that looked rather heavy, and the remnants of a blue hoodie. The hood part of the garment that the kid was wearing over his head was the only thing remaining on the piece. The kid had a set of chains on his body—one was wrapped around his neck loosely; it connected to another strand that ran around his shoulders and chest. There was a shorter length of chain that connected to the chain belt that was around his waist. When the kid grabbed the seat to steady himself while getting into his vehicle, he saw that he had badly cracked, dark gray fingernails on each of his fingers.

The kid had a jean bag, that had one strap on it, with him; it was pretty round and looked full to capacity. He also had a rolled up rug on him that had a rope around its ends; like with Bile, it was hanging from one of his shoulders. The rolled up, white sheet, that the kid also had on him, looked to have something heavy in it.

Whoever it was that had just gotten into his van sat beside Bile; he said not a word either during or after getting into his vehicle. The kid had no jacket on his person.

If he wasn't incorrect, the final kid that got in his Shuttle Van was the last one born to Angel Irene. He was about six feet tall and his skin was a periwinkle-blue color. The shiny, silver-colored eyes, that were in his upside-down, teardrop-shaped head, were circular in shape. The kid's body was much like Hazaar's—lean and strong. The kid had a single, horizontal row of brick-red hair that went from one side of his head to the other; the row of hair was bristly in appearance and was two-inches wide. While the kid's hair wasn't dull by any means, it didn't glow like his mutter's. The kid's facial features were much like Lhaklar's and Hazaar's. Like Lhaklar and Hazaar, he also had suction cups on the ends of his fingers.

He had heard stories on this kid. Angel Irene had given birth to him very early—at around five and a half months gestation. He was very lucky to be alive; he had a rather rough start in life. Lazeer was wearing a red mesh shirt under a deep brown leather, shearling sheepskin jacket, that was half-buttoned. The pair of dark gray pants that he was wearing had tears at the knees. The pair of multi-brown and gray shoes that were on his feet had dark gray ties on them. Lazeer had a black duffel bag with him that was pretty full; the rolled up rug that he was carrying had a single white cord tied around its center.

Miss. Irene, once Lazaar was seated beside the dark fellow, swung the door shut; she was fast in opening the front passenger door and in getting into its seat a few seconds later.

"Brrr, got chilly and fast!" Angel Irene said after sitting down.

He said nothing back; it had gotten rather tense in his van after his passengers had gotten in. It was cold in his van now. His arms were cold and clammy; he had a mind to turn the vehicle's heater on but, due to his hands being seemingly glued to the wheel, he couldn't do that. He guessed that the tense feeling that was in his van had come from the dark-skinned, demon-like kid that was seated between Bile and Lazeer; there was also the chance that it was brought into his vehicle by all five of the kids that were in it.

As he drove down the street, he found himself constantly glancing into his rear view mirror—the black-skinned kid seemed to be looking right at him; that was somewhat spooky. Just the sight of them scalene triangular, glowing yellow eyes made him shiver. His throat felt dry and itchy and the flesh of his arms were pocked with gooseflesh. For a fleeting second, he considered pulling over then saying for the black-skinned, demonic-looking kid to exit his vehicle. That consideration died out quickly—what right did he have in calling anyone, kid or not, demonic? The history books claimed that Angel Irene had come from demonic parents—her mutter was nearly demonic in origin while her fader was fully demonic so that made her almost, completely demonic. If he threw out the black-skinned kid that looked so like a shadow demon, he'd be at risk of having Angel Irene and the other kids snap at him. He'd be hurting a lot of feelings too. Who was he to judge on who was demonic and who wasn't anyways—wasn't Angel Irene the planet's heroine? She, with her demonic origins and her powers that came from only God and Heaven knew, acted in no way demonic. She didn't possess, harm, torture, or take away from others. She had helped the planet by keeping her fully demonic fader and family from conquering it. From what he had heard, Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer had never hurt anyone so who said that the black-skinned kid wasn't like them.

As he drove down the nearly empty street—all of the cars that were on it earlier had seemingly disappeared from view; it was just a long, empty, dark gray strip with a thin, white line separating one lane from the other—he began to wonder if the five children, that were seated behind him, acted like normal, human children. Did they create fights among themselves? Did they have a normal rivalry between each other or did they not fight among themselves or were they constantly at each others throats? Did they get into trouble like normal, male children did? Did they jump fences then go into yards that they shouldn't go into; chase animals; catch animals that their mutter would freak out on then bring them animals home to be their pets? Did they walk through mud then come home and leave dirty, muddy prints on the carpets for their mutter to go crazy over? Did they curse? Did they drive their mutter crazy? Did they smoke the smokes, and drink what they weren't suppose to? Did they play video games like normal human children did or did they just practice them powers of theirs and steer clear of such silly devices? He had not a single answer to these questions. He didn't know any of them; their mum did but he didn't so he knew that it'd be wrong to throw one out just because his appearance looked a little demonic.

"How long you six been in Germany?" he asked. He was trying to break the silence, and the tension, that was in his vehicle.

"Little over two days." Angel Irene replied. "Been staying near the outskirts of the Black Forest."

"How you boys liking Germany so far?" he looked in his rear view mirror for only a second; it still looked like the black-skinned kid was looking at him. The kid was being very still and quiet back there.

"So far, we're kinda liking it. It's different from what we've known." Lhaklar replied after hesitating for a second.

"Bit colder here," Hazaar said. Stefan noticed that he had a tough-sounding voice. "We're use to temperatures higher than what it is here at this time of year."

"Wait until autumn and then winter sets in," Stefan looked back momentarily before looking back at the road. "Take it from a native of this country—it get colder than a witch's tit here, boys."

"He said ti-k-t!"

The black-skinned kid spoke with a nasally voice that was low and strong; the vocal crack of a boy, who was either just starting or leaving puberty, was very noticeable. The kid's vocal crack emphasized his youth. The tension that he felt in his car lifted after the kid chuckled; Stefan heaved a breath in, then held it for just a second, before releasing it. When the black-skinned kid had spoken, he had noticed that he had yellow teeth that were crooked; either the kid needed to go to a dentist or, given his appearance, and that he might not have any human genes in his genetic make-up, they were normal set.

Yes, he had said the word tit; a politician had said a term in regards to the female nipple. In their youth and in the present, he and his bruders used all manner of words in regards to both male and female parts. People will act out their gender sometimes; regardless of the fact that he was a politician, he was no different. With the car's tension now lifted, he leaned down to turn the heater on. The cold, that had seeped into his van, was still in his van; since that one kid, and Angel Irene, didn't have a coat on, he feared that both would catch cold if it wasn't turned on.

Angel Irene heaved a sigh of relief at the same time that Stefan Leinart did—the reason for her sigh was different though. While Stefan was relieved about the tension in his car being lifted, she was relieved to see that Guyunis wasn't acting violent or snappish or rude towards the man. The past six months hadn't been easy for her or for her sons; six months ago, when her biological children saw her with Guyunis, a lot of cheering, celebration—mostly hugs and kisses—, and talks on how different things would be had happened. Lhaklar had made some memorical photographs—images that he made after taking specific memories from her and his brothers' minds—of several events that happened six months ago; she had gotten them all framed. Since they hadn't had a place to live at or in at the time, she put them in their underground storage.

They had moved to Colorado soon after Guyunis joined the family; her plan had called for them to live exclusively for only a week. So Guyunis could settle in with them. After the move, it was discovered that civilized living would have to be put on hold.

Guyunis had hated humans to a T six months ago; he was very rude, violent, and snappish with them. With all of that being noted, she had made the decision to keep the family living in caves that were a short distance from civilization. Even though things were hard for her and her family, no one had placed blame on Guyunis; the hatred that he felt towards humanity was perfectly understandable. He was treated very badly by the human families that adopted him over the years; the people that had him over the years had either talked him down or had verbally or physically abused him. He had also been treated as a sort of slave for the last three hundred and eighty years.

All humanity had done for him was show how uncaring, cruel, and rude they were; except for the times where he was living under her roof, he had known nor gotten a bit of kindness or respect from anyone.

Before the option of living with a real roof over their heads could be considered, Guyunis's many issues had to be addressed and corrected. It took a lot of work to get Guyunis to feel some self-confidence and self-esteem in himself and in others; they started with his having confidence in them right away. He became a member of her family from the day that she saw him; she, and her biological children, would never grow tired of him or send him away to be with someone else—he learned this first. That first lesson had forged a strong bond between he and them.

A few issues were encountered along the way; for example: from February to April, he came to her to ask if things were cool between he, she, and his "bruders"—as he called them. She had always come back with saying that they were all very happy with having him as a member of the family. He had just stopped doing that when the first fight happened. She had just got through giving Bile permission to go off to do a little hunting; her son had just collected his knife, and had just gotten himself ready to go, when Guyunis came up, asking if he could go with him. Bile had said no in the kindest of ways—twice—then, after Guyunis started to insist on tagging along, he started to express a little bit of annoyance. The fight between the two happened shortly after her son's annoyance was expressed.

Due to his not being included in any family events, or treated like a sibling by the human families that had him over the years, he hadn't had a clue on how brothers acted. Guyunis had clung to her for all of a week afterwards; the fight had caused him to think that she'd send him away. It had also caused him to think that Bile had started to hate him. He was extra clingy with her after his first two fights with Bile then he started to calm down; up to the day where he spotted his brothers practicing with their powers, he felt confident enough in knowing that he had a forever family.

All of her biological sons knew their powers well; Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer had Elemental, Energy, and Acidic powers while Bile had Elemental and Energy powers. All of them practice with their powers to keep in shape—Lazeer was a natural with his Acidic powers while Lhaklar wasn't as equipped with his; Hazaar only knew the basics. When Guyunis saw her biological sons practicing with their powers one day in mid-April, he ran to tell them to stop; he was afraid that they'd get in trouble for using their powers. All four of her biological sons had picked fights with him, had done the usual name calling, then had sort of walked off, leaving him all by his lonesome—that had scared him half to death! He had come racing up to her five minutes later; the poor thing was crying something fierce—a sort of regression happened afterwards. He was so very sure that he was being sent away and that all of his "bruders" were going to start hating him.

It was a simple misunderstanding on both Guyunis's part and on her biological sons'; after that happened, she was required to remind her sons of Guyunis's history.

Thanks to the family that took him in after his birth-mother, Lisa Ann Wahlberg, took him from her, he had learned to fear the use of his powers and to fear anyone who used their powers near him; the people who took him in had thought that his powers were demonic and they had made him think that by being physically and verbally abusive to him whenever he was seen as using them. It took him all of two weeks before he started to understand that his powers weren't demonic or monstrous; he went back to being in peace with his "bruders" afterwards. She had caught him sparring with all four of them several times, and she had also caught him being trained by Bile and Lhaklar a few times too. Like her biological sons, he, too, had inherited the use of Elemental and Energy powers.

"Our first "home" was the Cave of the Winds."

Which was located in the Pikes Peak region of Colorado, just west of Colorado Springs, on U.S. Highway 24, near the Manitou Cliff Dwellings. It didn't take them long to loathe this location—tours of the cave were given daily, so they hadn't really had any privacy. They spent a week in this cave before moving to a different location.

The Hobo Cave, which was actually a set of bouldering problems that were beneath a rock buttress on Boulder Mountain land, found on Flagstaff Mountain, in Boulder, Colorado, was their next temporary residence. They stayed there for a little over three months. With the area being well-liked by her family, her sons had done a lot of walking, hunting, and fishing there.

Her father, the evil Master Vile, who was also the father of her oldest son, was the cause for their leaving the Hobo Cave. The man had found a way into the shields that she put over the planet over two thousand years ago; he claimed that he found, and then followed, the tunnels that she created to connect the cities and towns to the highways that were on the outside of the shields by pure chance. She didn't believe that; while she didn't know the specifics on his "discovery" she did know that he and his army had shown up in Colorado one day not long after he entered the shields. The president of North America, a man by the name of Horace A. Smith, had jumped into one of his emergency helicopters right after her father's army had started in on the middle states; he had flown to the area that they were staying in. The helicopter that he was in had no more touched the soil before he jumped out. He raced right up to her then he told her to simply take her sons and go elsewhere; he had said for her to not worry about what was going on in the States... to just worry about herself and her sons. She and her sons had fled to Africa right after that encounter occurred.

The move to Africa was a hard one for all of them—they had wanted to stay and fight her father and his troops. She still felt rather bad for leaving and abandoning North and South America but, like Horace Smith had said, she did have five boys to look after and protect. She and her sons had moved to the Ogbunike Caves, which were located in Ogbunike, Anambra State that was in the southeastern state of Nigeria, Africa. The Ogbunike caves that they relocated to were located in a valley that was in a tropical rainforest; her sons had done a lot of hunting and fishing, and she had done a lot of cooking, there. She had also done a lot of proud watching as they took care of their prizes—the pelts, antlers, and other trophies that they kept from their kills. Guyunis was taught how to hunt in that location—before then, he was told to not hunt; he didn't know how to conduct a safe hunt before the move to Africa was done. Whenever he went out to hunt, he'd do it dangerously by ambushing his prey from underneath it before springing up to fight it physically. He was now a very safe and skilled hunter; she was very proud of him. She had also taken up his power training at that time; he was a fast learner, a good listener, and he had also done his best to imitate her. He was now very in-tune with his powers.

After a month of living there, they moved to the Sannur Cave, that was located ten miles southeast of the city of Beni Suef, that was in Egypt. She was careful on that move since Guyunis's birth-mother lived in that part of Africa; luckily, neither birth-mother or son had come in contact with one another. Lisa had given her son up for adoption right after he was born and she had also made it very clear to pretty much everyone that she wanted nothing to do with him—the feeling was sort of mutual with Guyunis; he didn't want to know or get to know or see her either. She and her sons had lived there for a month before the decision to move and then resume a more civilized life was made—Guyunis was the root cause for that decision; she had caught him acting friendly with the humans that either worked or lived in or around the city of Beni Suef more than twice in the month that they lived in that location.

Guyunis hadn't much liked the idea of moving to Germany—a small regression happened where he thought that she was moving the family there to get rid of him. That wasn't the case; she was quick in explaining the reason for the move—she wan't moving them to the country to get rid of him, she was moving them to the country to begin the process of resuming a more civilized life... which included a real roof over their heads, heating and cooling, and, of course, safer drinking and bathing water. Guyunis was her son now; there were to be no other adoptions or "hand-off's". He was to be her son forever. She had promised each and every one of her sons that they'd still be allowed to do their favorite outdoor activities and she had also said that she'd still be with and there for them. Guyunis had taken her to the side not long before the move was done to express a worry of his, which revolved around his bumping into the people that had him before she adopted him. She told him that she was picking a place far from where the people that had him before her lived; he went back to being happy afterwards.

They were in Germany for a little over two days now; so far, the energy that was coming from her sons was good. If her arms were elastic, she'd of reached one back to give Guyunis a pat on the back for chuckling at Mr. Leinart's use of the word 'tit'. Since her arms weren't elastic, she just looked back and smiled at him. Guyunis returned the smile.

"So, Miss. Irene—"

"Angel. You can call me by my first name if you like." Angel replied quickly.

"Angel... have you and your sons eaten anything lately? If you don't mind, I'd like to take you six to a restaurant of your choosing before we get started on the search for your new house." Stefan said. He didn't mind being interrupted, and he liked the idea of her trusting him enough to let him use her first name.

"You're much too kind, sir." Angel said before turning to look at her sons. "You five eaten anything during my absence?"

"No," Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, Lazeer, and Guyunis said at once.

"This fine man is offering to take us out for supper. Any ideas on what you want, or where you want to eat?" Angel asked her sons.


	3. Chapter 3

The government of certain nations wasn't the only thing affected by the plagues that struck the planet; certain eating establishments were affected too. His ancestors had eaten at such places as McDonald's and Burger King; the last plague that was experienced had caused both of them to close up shop—the memory of them two restaurants was still around thanks to the textbooks and television and film documentaries. The old timers, who passed the stories that they had heard from their relatives, had a hand in keeping their memory around too. The fast food franchise of Wendy's went down before McDonald's and Burger King did; Arbee's and Hardee's had ceased to exist after the plague of 2016; and What-A-Burger had closed its doors after going bankrupt in 2065. The franchise of Chick-Fil-A was the only one that wasn't really remembered—a rather nasty plague started there many hundreds of years ago. There were only a small handful of the old, major fast food restaurants left in existence and, from all looks and appearances, they looked to be doing well.

Even though most of the major pizza restaurants went out after Burger King, MacDonald's, and Wendy's left the restaurant scene, there was still Domino's and Pizza Hut; he had found himself driving to the Domino's pizza restaurant, that was on the edge of Luwig-Wilhelm Plaz street, right after Miss. Irene asked her sons what they wanted to eat. After reaching the restaurant, he said for them to not bother with worrying about how high the bill was going to be for their meal. He knew how hungry boys got so he knew that the bill was going to be expensive from the get-go.

"Anything we want?" Bile asked after they reached the cashier.

"Mhmm, yes. Anything you want." he returned.

"I'm partial to pepperoni," Bile had absently, and distantly, said.

"Pepperoni it is then," he said. He put an order in for a medium of that type of pizza then he turned his attention toward Lhaklar's, Hazaar's, Guyunis's, Lazeer's, and Miss. Irene's orders.

Lhaklar had asked for the Meateor—a pizza that was stuffed with sausage, mushroom, pepperoni, and lots of cheese. He ordered a medium of that for him then he asked Hazaar and Lazeer what they wanted. From what he was able to observe, Hazaar seemed to be the cheese-lover of the family—he asked for the Deep Dish Five Cheese pizza; an order for that type of pizza was placed. Lazeer asked for the Supreme—a pizza that had olives, green peppers, ham, egg, and Mozzarella cheese on it. He ordered a medium of that then he waited for the next kid, who's name was Guyunis, to make his decision on what he wanted from the restaurant's menu. Guyunis had taken a short while in ordering; after a few minute wait, he asked for the Bologna Pizza that had slices of bologna, red peppers, mushroom, and cheese on it. He ordered a medium of that then he asked Miss. Irene what she wanted. After the request for a small Garden Eggplant pizza was made, he placed an order for that. The next order was for himself; he asked for a simple cheese pizza.

The kid named Guyunis, who he accidentally called Gyuis by mistake, twice, was a right interesting kid. He wasn't a biological child of Miss. Irene's but he was related to her—he was the son of her great-great grandfader which, technically, made him an uncle to her. Miss. Irene had told him some of the kid's history after they took a seat at one of the restaurant's available tables; he couldn't help but feel sorry for him. The kid was one thousand, nine hundred, and one years old; along with getting very little love or respect from anyone he had also been given up for adoption right after being born. After being put in an orphanage, he was adopted out to families that treated him badly. Miss. Irene was the only one who treated him right; along with taking him in several times, she had taken care of him and had sent him to school.

Miss. Irene's kids were all pretty close in age. Bile was two thousand, two hundred, and one years old; Lhaklar was two thousand, one hundred, and one years old; Hazaar was one thousand, seven hundred, and one years old; and Lazeer was one thousand, six hundred, and one years old. Guyunis fit in very well with the family and the family seemed to be very well-taken with him, which was a good thing—by simple observation, he had noticed that he seemed to be right attached to his new mum. After what he went through, he did agree with Miss. Irene on his having and living a much better life—he was getting the care, love, support, and understanding that he needed.

The question on how Master Vile, a demonic man who was commonly known in the Universe as the feared conqueror of worlds, had found his way into the shields that were around the Americas was asked during the wait for their pizzas. Though hesitant to answer, Miss. Irene had come through in telling him that, according to the papers that were circulated in the Universe, the man had happened on the tunnels that went under the shields by pure chance. Her fader claimed that, when he was taking a walk along one of the planet's mountain trails, he saw a truck appear from out of nowhere—after walking down the road that went under the shield, then seeing where it took him, he high-tailed it back. His army of monsters were gathered sometime after his discovery was made.

Miss. Irene didn't believe a bit of that; according to her, her fader hardly went to the planets that were in his other conquered galaxies. The two palaces that the man had gotten built on two of the planets that were in the Dark Galaxy and Betta Galaxy were just collecting wear, tear, and dust. He mostly stayed on his planet of birth—Gamma Vile.

"I have no idea how he got into the shields—all I know is that, when he came back, he had his army with him. My boys did as I told them to in staying hidden while I confronted the troops that were coming into the area where we were staying. I had just gotten through sending two waves of my father's army packing when a helicopter came into view." she said. "The military was nothing against my father's army. They were defeated and fast—my father decided to head off to Washington D.C. to deal with matters of taking the government over after his army started in on the middle states. The North American president, Horace A. Smith, was quickly evacuated to a safer location after word reached him that my father was seen in D.C. I'm not sure what spurred him to do it, but he got the pilot of the helicopter that he, his family, and a small portion of his staff were in to find us; the helicopter had no more landed before he got out. He ran right over to me then he told me to get out... to just plain get out of the Americas. To not worry about the Americas or about fighting my father... to just worry about myself and my boys."

"Do you know where Horace Smith is?" he asked. After World War 4 came to a close, a pact was made; in it, it said that the planet's people would remain in peace with one another. So far, it was being honored; Germany and the Americas were friends—allies—now.

"As far as I know, he's under Mount Rushmore. Very deep underground—in the catacombs and bases that are under the monument." she said in a low whisper.

After treating the family to pizza, hearing Guyunis's history, and hearing about how Master Vile had found a way into the shields that protected the Americas, he took them out for hot fudge sundaes. They were quite appreciative of his taking them out; there were a lot of thank-you's from each and every one of them. After the sundaes were consumed, he started taking them to see the houses that Arnold Heiberg had found—he found himself as not liking the houses rather fast; they were either too small or there were some issues with them that wasn't included in their files. A quick call to his secretary was made; due to her just going to bed with her husband, she wasn't pleased with him calling her. After hearing what was going on, she went to work—a search for homes that had five or six bedrooms, two baths, and a front and back yard was done by her quickly. The trip to an open office, that had a fax machine in it, was done after word was received on the houses being found; his secretary had faxed her finds to him then had wished him a good night. The actual home looking happened afterwards.

His passengers hadn't much liked the first house—the vinyl exterior, along with being quite dirty, was very unstable; the house's rooms were also small; and, while the front yard was big, the backyard was small. The house also had no attic. The next house was in a neighborhood that didn't look safe; he drove on without stopping to look at it. The third house that they looked at was situated on a hill; it was a nice, upstairs/downstairs one. The front yard was decent while the backyard required some work. Out of the five rooms that the third house had in it, only two were appropriately sized. Miss. Irene had shook her head several times; he had agreed with her—the house wasn't for them.

The fourth house that they looked at was one of them brick types; it was nicely sized, and all of the rooms were nearly the same size but, upon checking the basement, they saw that the pipes were in bad shape—obviously, the house wasn't properly inspected. The attic beams were also in need of replacing. The fifth house was a nice, yellow concrete structure; it was an upstairs/downstairs home with five bedrooms and a bath and a half. It also had a pool in the back. Two of its rooms were smaller than the others but not by much. The house also had an attic and a basement in it. Miss. Irene and her sons had liked that house quite a lot—he was sure that they'd say yes to the residence; to his surprise, they said something around the area of wanting to see the last house before making a decision.

The last house that he was taking them to was rather new; it was built five years ago, and it only had one owner, who sadly lost his home to foreclosure. The house, along with having six bedrooms—two that were slightly smaller than the other four—in it, had two, full baths in it; the attic was medium-sized and the basement was small. The basement actually served as the laundry room. The kitchen was also medium-sized, and it had a walk-in dining room attached to it. The living room was said to be modestly built. The yard that was around the house was appropriately sized for the residence that was on it which, he thought, was good. There was no pool included with the house but there was a public pool nearby. A park that had tennis courts, a baseball diamond, and a basketball court was also nearby. The nearby town had pretty much everything a family needed in it. The house had central heating and cooling in it—the last known inspection happened a month ago; the residence had passed with flying colors. The yard had some trees in its front and back; the flowerbeds were empty at the moment. The neighborhood that the house was in wasn't one of them types where only the rich lived; the house that he was taking his passengers to had a price-tag of €250,000, which he could easily afford.

"None of you are allergic to pollen or bees, right?" he asked. He was just two minutes from the house. The night had gone by rather fast; he couldn't believe he wasn't tired. It was a quarter past two in the morning; the kids that were in the back hadn't slept any—they did look a little sleepy.

"No, we have no medical issues with pollen, bees, wasps, or any other biting insects." Angel replied. "Lazeer's allergic to nuts but that's it."

"That sucks," Stefan looked back at Lazeer before looking back at the road. "Bet you wish you wasn't allergic to nuts. Miss out on a lot of good cuisine."

"Not really... I'm just glad I'm not allergic to my nuts." Lazeer replied with a smile.

"Lazeer!"

He laughed at the kid's choice of words; this was the fifth time that he had laughed at something that Lazeer had said. The youngster seemed to be of the comical sort. He seemed to like making jokes and being funny—he had nothing against that; he was perfectly okay with Lazeer's joke-like nature. Lazeer was just enjoying life in his own special way; he was one of them types of people who were open instead of shut. From what he could tell, Lhaklar seemed to be the more mature of Miss. Irene's sons. Bile seemed to be a right cool fellow; along with looking to be right respectable and responsible, he also seemed to have a mildly humorous side to him. He was told about the little phase that Hazaar and Lazeer were going through—the one that made teenagers get/feel extra moody or emotional. Everyone went through this phase; he wasn't surprised over hearing about them experiencing it.

When he was told about the phase that Hazaar and Lazeer were going through, he had automatically started thinking about his and his wife's oldest child. Sophie Annelise Leinart had gone through a similar phase; after hitting the age of fourteen, she was extra quiet and very sensitive for nearly two years. Whenever anyone talked to her, she snapped back. He and his wife had done their usual in keeping her grounded, and in trying to understand her.

While Guyunis had a slightly humorous side to him, he also seemed to be right unsure about things. He guessed that this stemmed from the abuse the youngster had endured for most of his life.

The house that he was taking Miss. Irene and her family to was in the district of Rastatt, which actually surrounded the spa town of Baden-Baden. The village that the house was closest to was called Elchesheim-Illingen; it spanned an area of over six miles, and it was just three miles from the Rhine river. The village was surrounded by forest; the Goldkanal, an old lake where gold had once been found at, was close to it. The closest city to the village was Karlsruhe. Elchesheim-Illingen bordered several towns in a clockwise-fashion: to the north, there was the municipality of Au am Rhein; to the east, there was the small down of Durmersheim; the small village of Bietigheim was to the southeast; and the town of Steinmauern was to the south. The people who lived in and around the village were very friendly so, if Miss. Irene and her sons decided to take the house that he was taking them to, they'd not have to worry about being disrespected.

"I-is that it?" Lhaklar asked after Stefan pulled into a short driveway that led up to a pretty big house. He leaned forward just a bit to see the house better before sitting back in his seat.

"The last house on the list, yes." Stefan replied.

It was a two-level house made of dark red bricks; since the residence had no power to it, and since the moon and stars were hidden behind heavy clouds, just the basic outline could be seen. According to the information that was on his lap, the roof of the residence had dark gray shingles on it. Lush, green grass grew in both the front and back yards; while the driveway's left side was flanked by a line of bright pink, Dwarf Crepe Myrtle trees its other side was bare of foliage. There was a Yoshino Cherry tree in the center of the front yard; to the right of the yard, there were two, red flowering Dogwood trees. A wooden bench was between them; the trees were surrounded by a ring of smooth, white stones. The information on his lap claimed that there was a semi-circle of yellow flowering, Guayacan trees in the backyard; there was a note on one of the forms that said that there were more trees in the backyard—nothing saying what they were was on the piece of paper.

There was something to the house that wasn't on the forms that he had in his lap—a free-standing, steel structured carport, that was big enough to fit two cars, was at the end of the driveway. It was pushed up against the house. He parked his Shuttle Van underneath the carport then he withdrew the key from the ignition; Miss. Irene was getting out of his vehicle at the same time that he was reaching down for the handle on the driver's side door. Miss. Irene's sons filed out of his van slowly. They stared at the house that he had driven them to for a few seconds before going towards it.

"I like the porch," Guyunis said after he led them around to where the house's front door was. The porch, along with being made of red bricks, had five steps to it. "Not many steps."

After reaching the porch landing, he removed the key, that he had gotten from the local real estate office, from his pocket then pushed it into the door's keyhole. Once the key was twisted, and the door was opened, he led the family inside; he was fast in noting that, despite the house's cold interior, the energy felt by the members of his group was good.

The foyer, that he and his group stepped into, was small; a short hallway, that had red carpet on it, went four or five feet before stopping and then elbowing to the right. An interior arch doorway opened just two feet from the foyer; it led into the living room, which had a white-painted, vaulted ceiling that had a popcorn design to it. Miss. Irene's sons had all of their things with them; after placing them in the living room, they returned to their mutter's side.

It was a short walk to the dining room, which was to the left of the hallway's ending point; both it, and the kitchen, had dark cherry vinyl on their floors. The paint on the walls and ceiling of both rooms was a blue/gray color; the ceiling was flat and normal in design.

After taking in the kitchen and dining room, he led the family to the stairs; like with the two, downstairs hallways, they had red carpet on them. Since the walls were flush with the stairs, there was no banister. There were a total of eleven steps to the stairs. When he got to the house's second level, he stepped to the side; all of the bedrooms were on this level—the two, smaller ones were near the stairs while the bigger ones were beyond them. The master bedroom was on the right side of the hallway; it was sandwiched between the smaller bedroom and the normal-sized one. From what he could tell, all of the rooms had windows in them—the inhabitants of the residence would be able to look out from the rooms that they picked to sleep and reside in. The boys looked at the rooms while their mutter went up to check the attic; she stayed in the attic for a few minutes before coming down. She checked the bathroom, that was on the opposite side of the hallway, next. After checking the bathroom out, she went downstairs.

"With the energy that they're showing, this'll probably be the house that they'll say they want." Stefan observed. The bathroom, that was located on the house's first level, was on the same hallway that the stairs were on; Miss. Irene had gone down to look at both it and the closet that was opposite it. She was now checking the residence's basement out.

He and his brothers had to agree that this house-shopping thing was a surprise; due to the decision on their getting a three-bedroom apartment being made, they hadn't expected it. While waiting for their mother to return from the real estate office, they had discussed plans on what they were going to do with the apartment—before being taken from the planet, he and Lhaklar had roomed together; the plan had called for them to do the same and the same went with Hazaar and Lazeer, who had also roomed together in their old apartment. It was decided that their mother and Guyunis would reside in the apartment's third bedroom. The decision to use the vast amount of stuff that was in their underground storage on the apartment was an easy one—it would of kept them going for a few months, before new furniture was needed for the residence.

When she came back, saying that they were getting a house instead, they questioned her on whether she was fibbing or pulling their legs. Twice. On the second asking, they saw how serious she was, which caused them to not ask the question again.

After getting into the van, then being treated to a meal, then getting started on house-searching, they agreed that the four-bedroom houses weren't for them—not only was the energy wrong but there was something wrong with each one. The energy, that was in the five-bedroom houses, was a lot better; they had liked two right off the bat. He and Hazaar had done a little fighting over their adoptive brother when the question of where Guyunis would sleep was asked—Guyunis had smiled over the squabbling that they did.

The house that they were currently in had a lot of energy in it; along with noticing it, they liked it. While they knew the final decision in getting the house was squarely on their mother's shoulders, they had already done the room-claiming. The master bedroom—which, if she decided to go for the house, would be their mother's—was going to be between his and Guyunis's rooms. The room that was across the hall from his own was claimed by Lazeer; the room that was beside it seemed to be claimed by Lhaklar. The room that was across the hall from Guyunis's was Hazaar's—with all the other rooms being claimed, he was stuck with it by default.

The room that he claimed as his had a medium-sized window in it; the room's carpet was a dark red color while the walls and ceiling were a reddish-cream color. He had done a little checking of the other bedrooms after staking his claim on the one that was to be his; all of the bedrooms in the house looked the same. Their carpet, their wall and ceiling colors, and the ceiling texture—smooth, not popcorned—were all the same. All of the house's bedrooms had windows in them; if their mother decided to go for the house, the second floor's bathroom would be right between the rooms that he and Lazeer had claimed as theirs.

He saw a lot of potential with the house; along with being able to put their framed photographs on the walls, and seeing their mother cook in it, he and his brother could do their hobbies in it.

"Boys, meeting time." Bile heard his mother, who he called either ma or mama, call from the hallway.

They left their claimed rooms without saying or making so much as a sound; their mother, they noticed, was standing by the landing of the stairs. The man who treated them to supper, and then dessert, and who had driven them around for most of the night, was a foot or so behind her. A short, yet rather important, meeting was done between them after they reached her—nothing was left out; they got their opinions on the house squared away then they listened to their mother as she spoke about the house. Their mother held the reins to their family; while they could speak their minds on things, it was really her who had the say on what happened in their lives.

All of what Guyunis had taken from them earlier that year—Lhaklar's wallet, that had $2,188 in it; his and his brothers' CDs and magazines, and Lazeer's pocketknife—had long since been returned to them. Lhaklar had added his December and November allowances, which he put in his duffel bag, in his wallet right after having it returned to him. The thefts hadn't been done with ill-intentions in mind; Guyunis had only been trying to get their attention—the poor guy was left all by his lonesome on Earth while they, at the time, were stuck on Moas, dealing with their constantly given stresses. None of them had or felt any hard feelings towards the theft.

While he, Hazaar, and Lazeer still had their previously stolen items, Lhaklar didn't. Lhaklar gave all of his money to their mother after she relayed the plan for that day—he told her to use all of it on the apartment's down payment or deposit.

Guyunis was pretty well loaded with cash—$10,000 worth; he got it all from selling the jewelry that he took from his former guardian, Lenora Meyer. He gave all of that to their mother after Lhaklar gave her all of what he had. The $400 that their mother gave Guyunis as a gift six months ago was gone—Guyunis had tried to give it back several times; with their mother's constant refusal to take it back, he decided to split it five-ways. Most of it was used on the first of February; their magazines and smokes were the primary purchases. Either he or Lhaklar bought Hazaar and Lazeer their smokes—Hazaar and Lazeer were younger than they and the humans knew it; they did the honors of purchasing their magazines. Their mother had said that the purchase of an apartment would be something like a late-birthday present to them—with their turning a year older while living in caves that were near civilization, they hadn't been able to do the traditional celebrating. The celebrating of their birthdays had consisted of three things: their mother had made them a special, outdoors-y meal, then they did the Birthday songs while either standing or sitting by a campfire before eating that meal, then they went to sleep. While pretty low on the celebrating scale, they still felt special and loved on their birthdays.

The meeting between he, his brothers, and their mother took only five minutes; the matter of whether they got the house or not was in their mother's hands now. She was the sole decider on the house.

"Mr. Leinart," Angel said after the meeting between her and her sons had ended. "while we like the house, I have a few questions to ask you about it."

"Ask away... Angel." Stefan replied. He felt slightly awkward in using his planet's heroine's first name.

"What's the price and the down payment? Is there a security deposit required before one can purchase this home?"

"You let me worry about that, Miss. Irene." Stefan said. He walked over when Angel gave him a serious look. "Miss. Irene, you keep your money. I'll buy the house for you, put it in your name, and give you the title. Let me worry about the costs of security deposits and down payments, okay. You and your sons have had it rough these past ten months; it's way past time that you six had a rest."

"I really can't ask or allow for you to do that. Even if it's for us, I'd feel like a heel for letting you foot all the cost for a building like this." Angel said.

"A gift, Miss. Irene. From me, the people of Germany, and the people of Earth for all that you've done in keeping this planet safe." Stefan said. He placed his hand on her shoulder when he saw the ghost of despair cross over her face. "Don't you worry any about what's going on overseas. I highly doubt if that old coot remains in control of the Americas for long. We all have faith that his rise in power there won't be for very long."

"You're much too kind, Mr. Leinart." Angel Irene said. She turned to look at her sons; after doing this, she sighed a defeated sigh then looked back at him. "Okay, we'll take this one. It's big enough for all of us to live comfortably in."

"Good choice, Angel. Would you six be okay in staying here for the remainder of the night, or would you like for me to set you up in a motel?"

"We'll stay here. We'll probably sleep all huddled up against one another in one of the rooms." Angel replied.

"I'll be back shortly," Stefan said. He turned to leave then, after going a few feet from the woman who had so much on her shoulders, he stopped. He turned to look at her after stopping. "I'll be back in a few hours—at around eight-thirty or nine. Welcome to Germany; we're happy to have you and your sons here."

As he left the house, then went to his car, his inner voice told him that he was about to make his third residential purchase. Besides the home that he, his wife, and their three children lived in—the nice, four-bedroom colonial that had two full bathrooms, along with an outdoor grilling area and a decent-sized pool in the back, in it—, he also owned a five-bedroom home in St. Peter-Ording, a beach that was in the district of Nordfriesland, that was in Schleswig-Holstein. While most politicians owned more than two homes, he saw that two was all he and his family needed; he and his family lived primarily in their four-bedroom home, that was near the Hansaviertel locality that was in Berlin, between the Großer Tiergarten park and the Spree river. In the summer months, when the kids weren't in school, they lived in the home that overlooked the beach. Two homes meant less bills, both for utilities and for repairs, and it also meant less back-talk from civilians. He was a good, decent, honest person; he didn't need nor want to crush his image by going on a house buying spree. When he got into his van, he remembered what Miss. Irene had told him about her fader having a palace—or home—on two of the planets that were in two of his conquered galaxies. He had a feeling that the man had more homes than that—after all, she had said something about her fader staying mostly on Gamma Vile, where he probably had a few residences on as well.

Conquerors were funny people—they conquered, they demanded that monuments of themselves, or of their achievements, be built over historical landmarks, or in stupid locations where they'd barely be seen, and they also ruled funny. Some conquerors ruled fine for a few years then they got either paranoid over their rulership or tired of the way they ruled. They slapped their hands on the table, they increased taxes that didn't need to be increased, they made it so the cost of daily living increased, and they started to not give a damn about their people's needs. There were some good conquerors in Earth's history but they were very outnumbered by the bad, the ruthless, and the cruel ones that only conquered to make a name for themselves.

Master Vile was a crazy man who's ideals on conquering were just as crazy as he was. Who would want to have three or four or possibly even five homes and who would actually claim one of his own offspring as his "wife" and fader children through her? He shook his head then backed out of the driveway; after a few minutes of driving, he remembered something that was put in the history books: Angel Irene's first and secondborn sons were targeted for death by the man. Bile and Lhaklar were nothing more than babies when the man had sought them out for death. The history books also mentioned that Miss. Irene's fader had also tried to kill her; on one occasion, he was successful. The details that were in the history books claimed that Master Vile killed her by thrusting his hand into her stomach and then tearing it up and then out of her. How she managed to survive, or be brought back, was beyond him; he figured that the Higher Powers had decided that she was very much needed—for both Earth and for her two, infant sons.

If what was in the history books was true, Master Vile was crazier than he thought. Stefan reached down to turn the radio that was in his van on. While he liked listening to the radio when he drove, he had kept it off that night—so not to disturb Miss. Irene and her sons; the news was on before he reached and then picked her up from the real estate office. After turning the dial to the ON-position, he returned his hand to the wheel; his foot came close to slamming on the brakes a second later—something was being said about Master Vile and the Americas. He was fast in turning the volume up, and in tuning it.

"In May, reports came in saying that Master Vile, the evil alien conqueror who has tried on more the one occasion to conquer our small planet, was spotted in the shields that were put over the Americas two thousand years ago. We all watched, or listened, in earnest to see if the reports were true or if a false claim was made—when the reports were validated, we all gasped in shock. Questions on how the man was able to penetrate the shields were asked and fears were expressed on where he'd be seen next.

"As of today, it's being reported that the conquest of the Americas was completed. Master Vile was spotted in the White House yesterday afternoon; reports claim that he was either looking over important documents and laws or, quite possibly, looking for the current president of North America: Mr. Horace Alexander Smith, who hasn't been seen in a while. It is presumed that he, his family, and his staff all fled the capital for a more safer location to plot an attempt in taking the seemingly invincible Master Vile down.

"All military forces that have faced Master Vile's army, or Master Vile himself, have been taken down quickly; there are many militants being held in prisons and there are many more in hospitals. After taking over Central and South America, Master Vile declared that all citizens in the Americas were to stay in their homes after noon-hour; the only exception he has given for the breaking of this declaration is for the children who are still in school and for the ones who are experiencing something emergent. He has personally seen to the downing of twelve riots and three protests."

The radio went quiet; the woman who was reporting said nothing for all of five seconds before going on.

"Two days ago, Master Vile gave out the order for any and all information on the whereabouts of his daughter—Angel Irene, who he claims has been missing for all of six months—to be handed over to him at once. All able mouths have remained close-lipped on Miss. Irene's whereabouts; we all hope that she and her five-reported sons are safe and out of harm's way. Master Vile has made no mention of looking for Miss. Irene's sons; it is known that—"

He snapped the radio off then drove on in silence; while he wasn't going to say anything to Angel Irene, he was very concerned for her and her sons. The demon that was across the Atlantic was looking for her and only her... he wasn't looking for her and her sons—that was alarming! It seemed that the man hadn't changed a bit on how he regarded any of Miss. Irene's sons—if a change had happened, he'd of said something around the area of looking for all of them. He considered putting an armed guard around the house that he was about to buy and then sign over to Angel Irene for only a second before discarding it; that would attract attention, something that Miss. Irene and her sons didn't need. He also considered putting a bodyguard or two in charge of keeping Miss. Irene and her sons safe, and asking a cop to keep an eye on the family; since them two things would also attract attention, he discarded them. He didn't want Master Vile to know where his daughter was; he didn't want that crazy, demonic man in Germany and he didn't want him to separate his daughter from her sons either. He wanted Miss. Irene and her sons to be safe and comfortable here, not worried half to death about some demonic, crazy person who thought he was all that and a bag of chips.

As he drove towards the real estate office that was in Elchesheim-Illingen, he began to wonder if Master Vile was going to try to get into the shields that were over the island nations, Europe, and Eurasia too. The tunnels that joined the city and town streets with the major roadways that were on the outside of the shields were all different. Miss. Irene had done a spell to mask the tunnel openings that were made in the shield walls of the American shields; for the island nations, she did something else. The tunnels that permitted outside-shield travel were completely under the ground for them countries. There were no masked openings in the shields of the island nations; he was quite sure that they were safe. The same type of tunnel networking was incorporated for Europe and Eurasia—with a slight twist, of course. The tunnels that were under European and Eurasian soil also went under water—to make for safer vehicle travel between their island brothers; Greece, Madagascar, the Philippine islands, Malaysia, etc. He thought that Europe and Eurasia were safe too.

Even the national forests and beaches were safe! She had heard the complaints that people were making over the issue of not being able to go out to hunt the forests or take a dip in the ocean; a series of secondary—or mini—shields were created then a series of tunnels were made to connect the secondary shields that were put over the national forests and beaches with the main ones.

By word of newspapers, Miss. Irene claimed that her fader had just happened on the tunnels that connected the exterior shield roadways with the interior shield roadways; how could the man of "happened" on the tunnels when they weren't only invisible but also impenetrable to anyone of alien origin? Many of the monsters who had visited his planet over the years have been zapped back by them masked openings; Master Vile couldn't of just happened on and then gotten past their zapping essence. Surely, if the man's claim of "taking a pleasure stroll" on the planet was true, he would of steered clear of the shields regardless of knowing that a tunnel that connected a protected road from an unprotected road was there. The man knew well how the shields worked; he was zapped back by the shields several times—there were countless television documentaries that showed the man being zapped back by one of the shields. Along with seeing them, he had laughed each time the man was flung back after being shield-zapped.

Stefan shook his head; he thought that the people of the Americas still had a good chance of throwing Master Vile out even with the whereabouts of their commander-in-chief not being known. He was sure that the demonic creature wouldn't remain in power for long. He gave the creature a few months of power as he finished his drive to the real estate office that was in Elchesheim-Illingen.


	4. Chapter 4

Mitzi Klied and her husband, Kurt, were already up and about when the sun rose on the horizon, basking the landscape, that had previously been covered in darkness due to the moon and stars being a no-show the night before, in bright hues of yellow and orange light. There was no alarm clock in their room; they had grown so accustomed to getting up when the sun rose that one wasn't needed. They both agreed that rising to watch the sun appear in the sky was better than having an old, noisy machine wake them—why let a noisy box disturb the morning quiet anyways? The morning quiet was a magical thing that they both enjoyed.

Their morning routine was done like usual—Mitzi took a shower in the room that was adjacent the one that she and her husband slept in; she was brushing her teeth when her husband came in to take his own shower. After brushing her teeth, then making her hair look more presentable, Mitzi went straight for the dresser that her and her husband's clothes were stored in. She donned a pair of purple panties, then a brasier, then she walked over to her and her husband's Tempur-pedic bed. The purple cotton robe, that was on the bed's headboard, was grabbed and then thrown around her; while tying it around herself, she left the room.

A feeling swept clean over her the second she stepped out onto the light blue, French-style, oriental rug, that stretched from the landing of her house's one staircase to the far wall—today was going to be a little different than yesterday, this feeling told her. Something new was in the air. A sense of newness seemed to be in the neighborhood. She wrapped her arms around herself, gave herself a comforting hug, then started down the hall towards the stairs; the feeling of newness didn't give cause to her drifting or slacking from her usual routine. The feeling wasn't going to deter or make her become lazy. She went down the stairs then she walked into the dining room that was adjacent the house's kitchen; the first thing she did that morning was grab and then fill the coffee pot with water. She slid the coffee pot into the coffee maker then she filled the filter with coffee grounds—the smell of freshly ground coffee beans worked into her nostrils almost at once; the smell moved her from being nearly fully awake to fully awake.

With the pot working to make that morning's coffee, she turned her attention towards the family dog—Natascha had slept at the foot of her and her husband's bed last night, as she always did. The dog had followed her downstairs then had gone to the front door; she was begging to be let out. Natascha was a good dog; she let them know when she needed to go relieve herself. While not trained to do so, she liked to retrieve the morning paper after doing so. Mitzi went to the front of her five-bedroom home that had two full bathrooms included in its make-up; Natascha, a sweet, three year old Schnoodle—or Poodle/Schnauzer mix—that had white fur, ran out. She went back to the kitchen after letting the dog out.

She and her family had been living in the village of Elchesheim-Illingen for fourteen happy years; she couldn't see herself or her family living anywhere else. Petra, her oldest daughter, who was seventeen years old, was born in a different state but Sarah, her youngest at twelve years of age, was born in the hospital that was in Karlsruhe, which was a few short minutes from where they lived. She and her husband were in their late-forties; Kurt was older than her by six months but that didn't mean anything to them. They didn't see age as a factor in their marriage. They were high school sweethearts; upon graduating, he followed her to the college that she studied in. Both of them had earned their medical diploms at RWTH Aachen University—or the Rheinisch-Westfälische Technische Hochschule Aachen. Due to their early-career heavy schedules, they had held off on having kids. Their schedules had just not been right to bring a child into the family. Immediately after their schedules evened out, they started making a family. They were both very happy with being parents to their two daughters.

With the dog being let out and half of her morning routine complete, Mitzi—a platinum-blonde haired woman who had gray-green eyes set in a diamond-shaped face—went to make breakfast for her family. The carton of eggs was taken from the fridge then one of the pans that were in the stove compartment was picked up. She grabbed a spatula from the utensil drawer then went to work. Four of the eggs were cracked over the pan's rim; while they sizzled, she crouched down to grab another pan from the stove's pan compartment. She had a hankering for pancakes and by golly gosh was she going to make some. The pancake mix and a stick of butter were removed from the fridge then a mixing bowl was taken down from the cabinet that was two down from the stove. She made the mixture like a pro then poured it in the unoccupied pan.

Her husband was rather fond of her Sunny Side Up eggs so she made him some before setting in on making her and her daughters some scrambled eggs. All of them would have a pancake each with their meal. She was just setting in on scrambling the eggs that she and her daughters would have when she heard the sound of Natascha's nails clicking on the dining room's vinyl floor. Natascha padded into the kitchen; the newspaper was clamped neatly between her small jaws—a small dog door was installed in her house's back door sometime after Natascha was brought home; Natascha came in through it after relieving herself and then retrieving the paper. Mitzi kneeled down; she gave the dog a pat on the head before taking the paper from her jaws. She glanced at the paper then tossed it over onto the kitchen table—the article that was on the newspaper's front page had something in it about that vile creature that was terrorizing the poor people of the Americas.

The paper had no more landed on the table when her husband, a brown eyed, sandy brown-haired man, who stood five foot, nine and a half inches, walked into the kitchen. Kurt was wearing his blue nurses outfit. Unlike her, he had the day shift at the hospital that was in Rastatt.

"Guten Morgen," he said to her in German. Even though most of Germany's citizens had learned English, and even though most of Germany's citizens spoke English more than their native language, she and her husband used both languages equally.

"Good morning," she replied in English. "Breakfast will be ready shortly; Natascha brought the paper in."

Kurt Klied sat at the round, dark brown kitchen table; he crossed his ankles after doing this then grabbed the paper that was before him. After taking the paper from the table, he sat back in the chair that he frequently ate his meals in. The paper was opened and then held to his face; he had no more started taking in the newest tabloids when Natascha came over. After feeling her pawing at his leg, he removed one of his hands from the paper; he scratched the dog behind the ear while continuing with his reading of the paper.

Mitzi, meanwhile, made Natascha's breakfast—a tiny bit of scrambled eggs made it into the dog's regular food; she mixed them in well before placing the bowl, that had the dog's name on it, on the floor. Natascha forgot all about her husband; she ran forward, towards her food bowl at once. When Mitzi looked over at her husband, she was again treated to seeing the article that was on the front page of the newspaper—the article took over the entire front page of the paper; the title simply said that Master Vile was looking for his daughter and for North America's missing president, Horace Smith. Mitzi shrugged her shoulders; she tried her best to ignore the article but, in the end, she had to voice her opinion on it.

"That man needs a trip to the funny farm. Who does he think he is—causes all sorts of disruption; takes over two continents, sends many to either jail or the hospital for simply trying to oust him..." she said.

"I fear that no funny farm will take him, the staff would be too scared of him." Kurt replied.

"He has done nothing but bad here. Can't he take the hint that he isn't wanted?" Mitzi went on.

"Did Genghis Khan stay away from the areas that he attacked because he wasn't wanted in them?" Kurt asked. "While no conqueror is wanted in any areas, I'd rather take a human conqueror over the likes of the demon that's taken over the Americas."

Kurt was turning the page of the paper when Sarah, his and his wife's youngest daughter, walked into the kitchen. While Sarah Klied had her mutter's hair, she had his eyes; she stood just five foot, three inches. Her build was very petite. She was wearing a red t-shirt and a pair of blue sweat pants.

His wife was fast in making the plates after Sarah entered the kitchen; due to his needing to go to work soon, his was made first. After his plate was made, and then placed before him, she made and then brought him a cup of coffee.

She was getting the next plate ready when Petra came into the room. Petra stopped just after entering the dining room; she took in her family then went to the table. Mitzi placed Petra's breakfast down in front of her then turned to retrieve her own. Petra, a brown-haired girl who had her mother's eyes, started in on her breakfast quickly; her dress-sense was a little more mature than her sister's—the gray blouse, the pair of blue jeans, and the pair of sneakers brought out the fact that she was older than Sarah. Mitzi was proud to know that her daughters weren't letting anything show on their bodies; she and her husband had given them the talks on what bad clothing did to a lady after they reached the start of their teen years. She and her husband knew that clothing that showed off too much of a lady's body attracted the wrong type of attention... they also believed it brought down a lady's image. Mitzi made herself a plate then went to the table; thanks to the article that was on the newspaper's front page, she decided to skip her morning coffee.

"Think someone bought the Kaufer place last night, mumma." Sarah said. "Saw a van drive up the driveway."

"It's been on the market for a while now, about time someone took a look at it." Kurt said.

"When did you see the van drive up the Kaufer's driveway, Sarah?" Mitzi asked.

"At a quarter to two in the morning," Sarah replied.

"What in the world was you doing up at that hour?" Mitzi demanded to know; she and her family always went to bed at eleven o' clock. No exceptions were made on this habit of theirs.

"Was getting a drink of water," Sarah replied. "Was thirsty and my throat was dry. I saw the van drive up the driveway while I was in the kitchen. It had a lot of people in it."

"How many?" Kurt asked. He folded the paper then placed it on the table.

"Big family—more than four, I think." Sarah replied.

"Hope they decide to get the house. It's a good home and it's been on the market now for nearly two years." Mitzi said.

Kurt drank his coffee then finished his breakfast. After doing this, he stood up then said his usual—which was, he'd call them at lunchtime and, if they needed him for anything, to give him a ring. He then left for work. Petra and Sarah went upstairs after they finished their breakfast; Mitzi figured that they were going to do some spiffing up in the bathroom. Petra had said the night before that she and some of her girl-friends were going to the mall after ten o'clock. Sarah was just starting to experiment with makeup; it was somewhat funny to see her scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror—she made all sorts of funny faces before shaking her head. The routine was repeated at least three or four times a day... It never really got old.

After collecting the things that her family had used that morning, Mitzi took them to the sink, where they were quick-washed and then placed in the dishwasher—which was only a year old; the old one had kicked the bucket after five fine years of use. With that issue squared away, she unplugged the coffee pot then went upstairs to finish her morning routine.

A pair of blue jeans, a red and pink shirt, and a pair of white tennis shoes were donned quickly; with herself clothed for the day, she set in on getting the house fixed up. The carpets that were in her house were vacuumed; the dusty places in the bedrooms, and in the living room, were cleared of their dust; and the kitchen and dining room floors were swept and washed. She grabbed her gardening gloves out from under the sink then went outside after all of that was done; the flowerbeds that were outside the front of her house were not being used for flowers—they were full of vegetable plants, which she tended every day. There were carrots, tomatoes, radishes, and cantaloupe growing in them flowerbeds—the neighbors all thought she was crazy for using the flowerbeds for something other than flowers; in her mind, flowers were pretty but they didn't help any with the price of grocery shopping. She knocked a few euros off the grocery list each month with her flowerbed-turned-garden produce. When she left the house, she made sure to leave the front door slightly ajar for Natascha. She went straight to her garden afterwards. While tending her garden, she thought about the house that was beside her own.

The people who owned it three years ago, Kamilla and Luther Kaufer, hadn't been very good people. They might of looked nice on the outside but, on the inside, they were right snobby, deceitful, and disrespectful. If someone told them something on themselves, they'd go and blab it to the entire neighborhood. They spoke bad of how people's properties were kept and they also threatened to call Animal Control on any dogs or cats that they saw near their property. With her and her family being right beside them, they were constantly at one another's throats. She couldn't count how many times she and Kamilla had hashed it out in the three years that they were in the neighborhood—some of their issues had revolved around her letting Natascha out in the morning. Natascha was a good, obedient dog that never ventured from her and Kurt's property. She never dug holes in the front yard—she did that in the backyard—, she never barked at anyone who walked by the house, and she never chased after the mailman—she did plenty of squirrel and hedgehog chasing though.

Kamilla's roots were known; she was the only child of a right rich couple. While Mitzi didn't know the full aspects of that life—she was born into a middle-income family; like her parents before her, she was a middle-income person—she had a feeling that Kamilla was spoiled all her life. Luther's roots weren't known; he was a particularly mean, grumpy man. If she or her husband had so much as said hello to him, he'd stick his nose in the air then walk away. She couldn't place a number on the many times the man had gotten on Petra and Sarah for simply sitting out on the sidewalk; they were doing nothing wrong... they were just sitting on the sidewalk, either enjoying a popsicle or talking. Luther had also had a way of snapping at her daughters when they were in the backyard playing with Natascha. The other neighborhood kids had also had encounters with the man. He would just heave his body back then, after all of the veins had shot out into view on his neck, and after his face turned a beet-red color, he'd start yelling and cursing; most of the neighborhood kids had steered clear of their street because of him.

Needless to say, everyone in their neighborhood was on happy street when it was learned that the two were about to lose their house. The neighborhood went back to being nice, friendly, and quiet after they left.

The house was condemned after Kamilla and Luther left; along with putting holes in some of the walls, they also wrote horrible words on them. One or the other had also destroyed the carpets and shattered the windows as well. Luther was a sort of handyman with tools; some of the kitchen cabinets were destroyed and two of the water pipes were bent—presumably, with a pipe-wrench. It took some months for the house to be repaired to its former glory; Mitzi hoped that the new owners would take care of it because it really was a good home to own and live in. Why someone would go and trash a home that they were about to lose was beyond her; it seemed very disrespectful towards the bank that was taking the home back and it was also very degrading on the former owner's part. Kamilla and Luther hadn't been young by any means; they were in their early-sixties. That meant nothing, really; some people didn't act their age.

Mitzi pulled a few tomatoes from her garden then looked up; she was compelled to look at the house that sat beside her own. A little gasp escaped her the second she turned to look at the house—not only were the lights on in one of the bedrooms but there looked to be someone moving around in that room.

"Mom, the power's on!" Lhaklar exclaimed after running down from the room that he had claimed as his.

"You sure?" Angel asked.

"Mhmmm," Lhaklar nodded his head. "I went up to my room; my hand accidentally knocked the light switch to the ON-position. The domed light that's in the center of my room went on."

"Mr. Leinart must be turning the utilities on." Angel mused.

"Can he hurry up and get the wa-k-ter turned on? I need to take a piss something-k fierce!" Guyunis exclaimed.

A little wandering around had happened after Mr. Leinart left; a small fire-flicker in the palms of their hands was used to prevent their walking into one another or into one of the darkened house's walls or corners. After an hour or so of walking around, fatigue had claimed them. The master bedroom was where they slept; their eyes had all opened after the sun came in through the room's white drapes. Guyunis had used his Mountain Lion pelt as a sort of blanket; Bile had used his Bear pelt as his while Hazaar and Lazeer had slept against their mother. He slept all huddled up in one of the room's corners. Most of them took care of the major issue that was on their must-do lists after waking up—both of the house's bathrooms were used; the only one to not use the bathroom was Guyunis. He refused to do so for his own, personal reasons.

All of what he and Guyunis had given their mother was returned to them. His money was in his wallet, where it was suppose to be; Guyunis had tried giving his money back to their mother, who refused to take it back. A quick explanation on why she wasn't taking the money back was given—the money wasn't hers, and she had no right in keeping or in accepting it as a gift. Some of that $10,000 was stuffed into the one pocket that Guyunis's torn, black jeans had on them; the rest was put in his jean bag. His bag, rolled up sheet, and rug were taken to the room that was to the right of the master bedroom afterwards; Guyunis had given the room that was to be his a good once-over before joining in with the wandering. Bile had taken him to the side a few minutes after the wandering began; naturally, he knew that Guyunis was slightly uncomfortable with having a room all his own. This was Guyunis's first, real time in actually having something—a room to decorate as he pleased, things to decorate that room with, hobby items, etc.—to call his own. It was going to take him a little while to settle in. He was sure that his adoptive brother would shape up after things settled down; the first few days in a new home were always a little unsettling. Everyone was either bumping into one another or there seemed to be no privacy and, of course, there was the nervousness included when the unpacking began.

He was honestly more concerned with how they were going to furnish the place; while they had some stuff in storage, he didn't think it'd go well with the house. Most of the stuff that was in their underground storage was old; while they could use the old, single beds, most of the rest of the stuff was damaged in one way or another—the old kitchen tables, chairs, bookcases, and dressers were either faded or chipped in places and one of the two lounge chairs was lacking one of its legs. This was a nice house... he didn't think any of that stuff would go well with it. With a house like this, he thought that good or presentable furniture was needed. That was what concerned him. Good, decent, or presentable furniture cost money; this residence was empty of all furnishings—or, nearly so, since their was a gas-log fireplace in the living room. While he was sure his mother would be getting a job, and while he was also sure about his also getting a job, he was also quite sure that it'd take a while to get a place like this fully or decently furnished.

$12,288—or, once it was converted to euros, €10,944.07—wasn't going to last or go but so far. The stove, for example, was going to cost somewhere between €500 and €700; a refrigerator was going to cost somewhere around €500 and €1000; they could use the old single beds that were in their storage for a while but they'd have to be replaced at some point. He added another €150 to €300 to what he had already calculated just for their replacements. A table that would accommodate a family of six; chairs for that table; cookware, silverware, plates, and bowls to eat out or off of; and maybe a couch or a chair for the living room... that was just the start of what they needed. That was just the important stuff that they needed; at some point, there would be a need for newer bookcases, and someone would want to add a table or two to the living room, or add a decorative carpet or two to one of the house's hallways. A tv for the living room would be wanted sooner or later; they would need lamps for the rooms and there was also the bedding for their beds too...

The list of what they needed, and what they'd want at a later date, went on and on; he was breaking out in a sweat just thinking about it all! Here it was, a little under an hour after sun-up, and he was already becoming stressed out! He had it all to thank on his helping out in agreeing on their getting the house. What had come over him? He had let his excitement over being in such a nice house cloud his better senses, that was what had come over him! Sadly, he couldn't change or do a thing in swaying his mother from getting the house now; the dominos were coming down—they had picked their rooms, their mom had already said yes to getting the house, and the utilities were being turned on. Lhaklar shuddered. He took in the room that he, his mother, and Guyunis were in then shuddered again.

"Bile, you're in the kitchen right?" Angel asked. As far as she knew, her firstborn was in that part of the house; he went there after everyone had used the bathroom.

"Bile? Bile who? I know no fool named Bile." Bile said from the kitchen.

"Can you check to see if the water's been turned on?" Angel asked.

"Spigot's dry, ma." Bile said a few seconds later. "Guyunis, I do fear that the water won't be turned on today. You'll have to either wait or use one of the toilets that has no water in it."

"Gross!" Guyunis exclaimed. "No way! Toilet with water in the bowl or—"

"Guess you'll have to wait then. Get the number for the hospital, ma! Guyunis shall have bladder infection by tonight's end." Bile said as he left the kitchen.

"There's going to be a yellow river trailing down my leg in less than two minutes if there's no running water in this place! Can tha-k-t human work any faster? I need to go and NOW!" Guyunis exclaimed loudly. He crossed one of his legs over the other then he held them tight to emphasize his words.

"Momma, how much would it cost to get the carpet that's around him replaced if he pisses on it?" Hazaar asked. He had just walked in from outside; after using the bathroom, he decided to go out for a quick wander in the backyard.

"Boys, that's enough." Angel said. She gave her head a shake before turning to look at Guyunis. "G, I'm sure that Mr. Leinart's working as fast as he can to get everything turned on for us. Be patient, please. Try not to think about water, or your need to urinate."

"Oh yeah, suuuuuuure!" Guyunis rang out. Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar looked at him in shock. "That's always so easy for one who doesn't have a need for a toile-k-t to say."

"You're frustrated and you have a need, I understand that sweetie but you need to be patient. If you find yourself not able to hold it in any longer, go outside." Angel said.

Guyunis looked at the woman who, in his eyes, was the only real human who had shown him love or respect in shock. After spending a majority of his life with families that had either thrown or forced him to reside in basements or attics, that had a simple bucket in them that had served as his toilet, and after having to sneak bathroom breaks in when everyone's backs were turned, and after cleaning a lot of toilets during his tenure with his former adoption family, the Meyer's, he knew quite a lot about bathrooms—or, more specifically, toilets.

Toilets were bacteria central. Even when clean, they had bacteria in them; the bacteria actually got worse when there was no water in the bowl. He was lucky to have his male parts; over the years, he had gotten plenty of infections from being forced to use a bucket as a toilet and from having to hold his stools in. He actually had to threaten to turn Monika Graf and her husband, Mathis Meyer Sr., into child protective services after they refused to take him to see a doctor—the infection was right bad; his penis had burned and then turned a dark red color... and his testicles had swelled to twice their size. That was right scary for him... the infection happened twice during his tenure with them; he had threatened to turn them into child protective services on both occurrences. The same threats were said when Lenora and her husband, Mathis Meyer Jr., had refused to take him to see a doctor when he popped out in a rash down there some years later.

He wouldn't threaten his new mum for the world—he knew that she wasn't trying to force him to keep his liquid in; she wouldn't of suggested for him to take a piss in a dry toilet, or to go outside to relieve himself, if she was trying to keep him from expelling his urine. He loved the woman quite a lot... she was the mother—or mutter, as he called her—that he needed from the start. She had done a lot for him in the last six months that the humans that had adopted him over the years had either refused to do or had only done when he started the nag-routine on them.

While the option of using the bathroom outside was a slightly better one than his using a dry toilet, he didn't much like it either—along with someone being able to see him as he whipped it out, he'd also have to worry about some animal springing up to bite him in an area that he didn't want to be bitten.

As he saw it, he had three options: use the bathroom in a dry, bacteria loaded, toilet; use the bathroom outside, where others would probably see him and where he'd run the risk of getting a bite in a very sensitive spot; or wait it out for the house's water to be turned on. He leaned his head back; while he really needed to go, he chose the latter option. Of the three available options, it seemed the safest... although there was an issue with it too—one couldn't hold his or her liquid or waste for long without running the risk of over straining the bladder. He knew that if his bladder got hurt from over-straining, or if he got an infection—any infection, not just of the bladder type—, his new mum would take care of him. She'd take him to a doctor right away; no threats or fuss would be involved. She'd just grab and then whisk him to a doctor that'd help him out.

In order to put himself in a more calmer state, he closed his eyes. The knowledge of who he could depend on had no more been thought, and his eyes had no more been shut, when he yanked his eyelids up. His youngest bruder had just come into the room; he was singing some sort of silly song rather loudly.

"Ooooooh, Guyunis has to pee. Has to pee, has to pee. Guyunis has to pee a river of yellow. He won't use a dry toilet; he won't go wee outside; he's crying and bitching because he has to pee... has to pee." Lazeer had happened on his newest brother complaining about having to go to the bathroom; for him, the opportunity to be annoying was just too great. "Power's on, gas is probably on but the water is not and Guyunis has to pee... has to pee. Ooooooh, Guyunis has to pee or else, there will be a yellow river in our new h—"

"There's going-k to be a baby bruder get-k-t-ing a knuckle sandwich in less than five seconds if he don't shuh-k-t up." Guyunis barked.

"Has to pee, has to pee, oh my older browder has to peeeeeeeeeeee." Lhaklar winced at how high that last note was.

"Lazeer, that is enough." Angel said. Lazeer was fast in clamping his mouth shut. "Hazaar, you're in the kitchen now, right? Any water?"

While he admitted to that being funny, he also had to admit that what Lazeer had just done with his singing about Guyunis needing to pee was wrong... and very badly timed. Had Lazeer of done something like that to him, he'd not hesitate in jumping up and then clobbering him into mince meat; Lazeer had a way of being annoying—he liked doing jokes, and being funny; sometimes, he did both at the way-wrong time—but he was a good little brother. They all loved him despite his joke-inspired rudeness and his habit of joking too much.

He went to the sink—the place where the refrigerator would go was directly behind and then four steps from him; the place where the stove would go was on his left, about three counters away. The sink's basin was a stainless steel gray; so was the faucet, which had one of them single handles on it—the kind that one could grab then pull up or to the left or right. He knew that, for the water to be cold, the handle would have to be pulled to the left; if one wanted the water to be warm or hot, they'd have to pull the handle in the other direction. The kitchen's countertops were made of volcanic rock quartz while the cabinets were a dark cherry, Beech wood. There was a bar attachment to the room's first counter; he pictured three stools being placed under its overhanging ledge.

He grabbed and then pulled the faucet's one handle up; he was expecting for the water to still be off. He was quite surprised when water seeped out—it started slowly then, after a few seconds, it came out faster.

"Mom! The water's—"

"Out of my way!" Guyunis's yell rang throughout the house; it was quickly followed by the heavy footfall of boots as Guyunis ran to the bathroom that was on the house's first level.

"Ma, didn't Mr. Leinart drive us in a van last night?" Bile asked after the door to the bathroom that Guyunis had gone to was shut.

"Yeah, one of them types that allows for more than four persons to ride inside." Angel replied. "Why?"

"One of them big trucks just pulled up in front of the house." Bile said. "It has the name BSH Hausgeräte GmbH on the side in big, black-bold letters."

Bile and his brothers, sans Guyunis, who was still in the bathroom taking a piss, ganged up on one of the living room windows. One of them semi-trucks had pulled up in front of the house that Mr. Leinart had said he'd buy for them the night before; it was now moving again. The person who was behind the wheel drove it a few more feet before turning down the driveway that was theirs. They went to the front door after seeing that.

Angel gently pushed her sons to the side then went and opened the door; she left the house to see what was going on. Bile craned his neck to see her as she walked down the sidewalk that led from the front porch. When she disappeared, he went to the front door—it had a half-moon window in it; he could look out if he chose to. When he didn't see anything, he went back to the living room; instead of fighting his brothers over the window that they were piled up at, he chose to look out from the second one. His mother, he saw after approaching the window, was talking to four men—all of whom were wearing white biballs that had BSH Hausgeräte GmbH on the front in bold, dark blue letters. His mother seemed to be talking cordially to the men; there were no frantic or angry gestures being displayed by her.

After feeling a presence come up behind him, he turned to see what it was; when he saw what it was that was behind him, he turned back to the window. He blinked his eyes when he saw Mr. Leinart's Shuttle Van drive past, and then into the driveway; the van disappeared after its owner drove past the semi-truck. Several seconds went by before Mr. Leinart was seen as rounding the truck; the man walked right up to his mother then stopped to speak with her. Bile was about to ask himself the question on what was going on when the door to the house opened; two of the four men who drove over in the semi-truck walked in quietly.

Bile and Guyunis scrambled to the opening that was before the living room to see what was going on; to their collective surprise and amazement, they saw that the two men were carrying a large box between them. The two men went into the kitchen; they followed at a distance. When the men went down into the basement, which had a door that opened in on the kitchen, Guyunis decided to stay behind. Bile, on the other hand, went down to see what was going on. It wasn't long before he returned to the kitchen.

"Dude, they're putting a washer in there." Bile said after returning to the kitchen.

"Figured they were taking something-k like tha-k-t down there," Guyunis said. After using the bathroom, he came into the living room to find three of his brothers piled up on one another. Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer were pretty much playing kiss with one of the living room windows; Bile was just standing before the window that he was looking out of. Like his brothers, he didn't know what was going on; he was planning on sticking near one of his brothers while all the commotion was going on in the house.

"Anything I can do to help?" Bile asked after the other two men walked into the kitchen with another box that was the exact same size as the one that the previous two men had carried down to the basement. Guyunis gave him a look then backed a step away.

"Sie sind zu gütig, Herr. Wir haben diese." one of the men, who had short brown hair and steely gray eyes, said in return. Bile nodded his head then stepped back; the man had simply said that they had it.

"First time seeing movers come into a new home of yours?" Bile looked over to the right; one of the men that went down to the basement had come up.

"Yes and no," Bile replied. "We had a little help when we moved into the apartment that was in Wyoming."

"This move will be different for you six," Stefan said as he walked into the kitchen. "You'll have plenty of help on this one."

With the sun up, and with there being more light out to take a more in-depth look at things, he was able to see a few things that he wasn't able to see the night before. Lazeer had something over his left eye—a sort of single glass that looked to be made out of a squishy, non-glass material. It had a single elastic band to it that wrapped halfway around the youngster's head; Lazeer's hair wasn't hidden by the band. He had to look hard to see the band—it was nearly see-through! Guyunis had a series of veins crossing over the muscle that was on his chest and shoulders; he also had visible veins on the muscle that was on his arms. Due to his still wearing his hoodie, he was still not able to see the details of his face. He was able to take in the three, deep scars that were on the kid's upper arms; the scar, that went across the kid's chest, was just as deep as they were. Stefan only needed to look at Guyunis to know that he had become somewhat unsettled with the activity that was going on—he was standing behind Bile; whenever someone walked into the room, he'd jerk and then give that person a look.

He did as he said he would. The house was purchased for the family; the title transfer form, that Miss. Irene needed to sign, date, and then include a few details on, was already given over. A few hour nap was taken in his van; after waking, he took time out to go to a motel for a refresher course in hygiene—a shower, a shave, etc.—then he started the process of getting the residence's utilities turned on.

Getting the power turned on wasn't a problem; that was turned on quickly. So was the gas. A little issue had come up with getting the water turned on; after a few minutes of back-and-forth banter with the customer service rep, it was turned on. During the process of getting the house's utilities turned on, he decided to get the cable paid. Everything was as it should be except for, of course, the house being empty of furnishing.

All of the essential appliances—the stove, refrigerator, and the washer and dryer—were picked out by him; he had plans to let the family pick the rest of the furnishing out. As he had just told Bile, they'd have it easy on this move—before swinging by the place, he stopped to grab a few catalogs from the best furniture stores in the area. None of them would have to worry about the cost of whatever they picked out because he had plans to pay for everything that they asked for. Not a red coin would be spent by the family during their furnishing shopping.

Naturally, Miss. Irene was taken aback by his generosity; while polite in telling him how appreciative she was of all that he was doing for them, she had asked for him to stop. He had said that he would after they were all set-up in their new abode. From the look that she wore on her face, he knew that she was worried about him burdening himself with them; she cared and that was a good thing—he respected that, and her, greatly. After doing a little, polite hashing in the driveway, she nodded her head; he led her inside after that hashing occurred.

The ones who were already established on the street had taken notice of what was going on. With all the commotion that was going on, it was pretty hard to not miss that someone was moving into the house. There were three ladies standing on the sidewalk; they were watching all of what was going on—he could swear that they were talking among themselves on what was going on. They were curious, which was a natural thing.

"Your mum and three of your bro's have already been given one of these," Stefan placed the two catalogs and pens that he had on him on one of the countertops; Bile took one quickly while Guyunis took the other in a slow and uncertain manner. "If you see anything that you like in them, leave a mark. Your mum—"

"Right here," Angel said as she walked in. Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer walked in behind her. "Bile, Guyunis, pick a counter to place your catalogs on. Mr. Leinart, if you don't mind, I'll get started on the furnishing of the downstairs portion of the house before I deal with the master bedroom."

"What we want, mum?" Guyunis asked.

"Yes, sweetie. Anything you see that you like, you make a mark on it. Mr. Leinart says he'll take care of it." Angel replied.

Guyunis, at first, didn't know what to do. He had never been given this sort of opportunity before. He had never been allowed to choose a room of his own and he had never been allowed to pick out things that he liked from catalogs. While Lhaklar was by the opening where the refrigerator would go, he wasn't in the way of the movers, who were now bringing in a box that had a stove in it; the catalog that he was given was open... he was looking at what was on the pages with keen interest. Hazaar was by the counter-bar; the catalog that he was given was also open, it looked like he was on its fifth page. Lazeer was standing in front of the counter that was attached to the bar; his catalog was also open. It looked like he was leaving a few marks on the book's tenth page. Bile was standing next to him; his oldest bruder's catalog was also open. He had already looked through six of its pages.

He looked at the catalog that the human had given him; it was a right heavy book... it looked to have over fifty pages in it. At first, he thought about doing his catalog checking beside Bile before changing his mind; his bruder was busy and he probably didn't want him hugging up against him. There was a brief moment of panic for him when he realized he'd need to pick a place all his own to look through the catalog that he was given; he got over it quickly then went towards the counter that was beside the newly installed stove. He placed his catalog down, opened it, then clicked the button down on the pen that he was also given. The first thing he did was write his name on the back of the front flap; he figured that this was the right thing to do—he could see it now... all of the things that he had marked in the book were placed in one of the bedrooms that wasn't his. How embarrassing would that be for him?

With the book open and before him, and with his name being on the back of its front flap, he started looking through its pages.

The first four pages were full of things for young children; he skipped them. He liked the set of six stone mantle shelves that were shown on the sixth page; he made a check-mark beside them then he circled the word gray before going on to look at the rest of the page. He made a mark immediately after seeing the Shiro shelf—a shelf that had Birch branches, that acted as the structured part, that kept a series of five mahogany-colored shelves up. The next two pages had beds on them; all while remembering what his last bed in a civilized home was like, he scanned through them.

He found himself as liking the Tioga bed right after seeing it; it looked like it belonged in a cabin... He made a check-mark on the little square that was next to the bed's description then he went on. Since his bed was picked out, he skipped the next few pages. After turning three pages, he stopped; he was now in the dresser section of the catalog. He had just checked the little square that was beside the Reclaimed Barnwood dresser's description when he decided that looking through the catalog, and picking the furnishing for his room, was fun.

The pages of his book turned more slowly; he looked at their many depicted items at a slower pace. When he stopped turning the book's pages, he was at the section that had the bedside tables in it. Would he need one? Well, if the human was willing to toss his cash for him and his family then, yeah, sure. Why not? He started looking and, soon after, found and then check-marked the Mango Wood Bedside Cabinet.

"Mum said she'd take care of the furnishing of the downstairs," he thought when he got to the pages that had the couches, chairs, and other main furnishing items that went in a house on them. "No need to look through these."

He went on to the lamp section; even though he knew his mutter was doing the main furnishing of the house's first level, he wanted to see if he could get a lamp or two in his room. Maybe even a rug or two too. Although the lamp of the pooping dog was funny—he laughed inside when he saw it on the page—he didn't leave a mark on the page for the man to get it for him. Just because the man said the word tits the night before didn't mean he was a-okay or cool on things such as pooping dog lamps. He liked the lamp that had a camouflage lampshade and a dark green colored, grenade-shaped base. He check-marked the box that was beside its description then he looked at the other lamps that were in the catalog's lamp section.

He found himself as really liking the Nuke-shaped lamp, that was on the next page; the image showed that it lit up a bright, golden-yellow color when it was on, which he was fascinated with. He check-marked the box that was beside its description twice then he circled the picture of the item.

Although he looked through the rest of the pages that were in the catalog's lamp section, he didn't make anymore check-marks or circle any other pictures; when he got to the section that had the rugs in it, he got down to business in looking at the images and in reading the descriptions that went with them. He made a mark on the Rusty Brown Icelandic Sheepskin rug quickly then he made another mark equally as fast on the Wild Mannered Luxury Long Faux Fur rug, that was 3'4" wide x 4'10" long. He wasn't expecting to make anymore check-marks but, when he saw the Reindeer Fur Rug, he just had to have it. He checked the square that was beside the description of that then he closed the catalog. When he looked over, he saw that his bruders were doing the same as he. His mum, he saw, was still making marks in her catalog. He and his bruders waited patiently as she worked on the book; she made the last mark in her catalog about five minutes after they concluded their sessions with theirs.

"You are a very kind man, Mr. Leinart." Angel said. She gave Stefan the catalog that she had made her marks in then she held her hand out. Guyunis watched in stunned disbelief as they shook hands.

"My pleasure, Miss. Irene." Stefan said, he then pulled himself closer. Guyunis was fast in thinking that he was going to plant one on his mother; instead, the man just spoke to her. "While you was filling in the title transfer, I noticed that you have a driver's license."

"Yes, it's rather ancient." Angel replied. She gestured for her sons to walk forward to give the man their catalogs. They did so quickly. "It's just as old as Bile is—it's my first and my only."

"Have a vehicle to drive by any chance?" Stefan asked. He had suddenly gotten an idea.

"No, I had to leave the one that I had on a different planet." Angel replied.

"Think they'd be okay if they were left alone for thirty minutes?" Stefan asked.

"Depends on the reason for why I'm leaving them alone." Angel replied.

"I'd like to take you to one of the dealerships in these parts, buy you a car, then do another title transfer." Stefan said.

"Mr. Leinart, that's a really nice offer but I can't ac—"

"I insist."

"Mr. Leinart—"

"Miss. Irene, I am firm on this. I do not want you walking from store to home—while this neighborhood, and village, is a nice one, there is still a chance that you could be grabbed up by someone who has a dirty or corrupted mind." Stefan said.

"Never had to worry about that before." Angel said. The look, that was in Stefan's eye, told her that he was going to do what he had offered regardless of what she said on it. She sighed a defeated sigh then looked at her sons. "Bile, Lhaklar, you two are in charge while I'm out. I'll only be out for half an hour, an hour at max, okay?"

"Bile and I will keep everyone at bay, mom." Lhaklar promised.


	5. Chapter 5

The men from BSH Hausgeräte GmbH installed the refrigerator quickly; after checking to see if it was hooked up correctly, they went down to see if the washing machine and dryer's hook-ups were done properly. They left the residence afterwards. Bile and his brothers hardly noticed that they were in the building—after Mr. Leinart spoke, and then showed them that he had gotten them breakfast, they forgot all about the activity that was going on in the house.

They had indulged themselves in the six foam containers, that had a single flapjack, a helping of hash browns, and some eggs in it, right after seeing them; their mother had taken advantage of their attention being on their meal to slip out of the house. Even though no further instructions were given to them, they knew that they were to be on their best behavior. They also knew that they were to remain in the house. With themselves being as excited as they were, they didn't mind that the meal had no beverage with it—they just ate it dry.

The semi-truck, that had BSH Hausgeräte GmbH on its sides, left about five minutes after their mother and Mr. Leinart did; the neighborhood, and the house, went back to being quiet and peaceful again... or, at least, for a little while on the latter. Thirty-five minutes after their mother left, the peace and quiet that was in the house was sort of replaced with heavy tension. While Bile and Lhaklar, the keepers of their Little Brothers, were seated near the living room archway, that opened in on the hallway that ran into the foyer, Hazaar and Lazeer were seated under the living room windows—they were talking about what they saw in the catalogs that Mr. Leinart had given them. Most of the tension that was in the house was coming from one select individual: Guyunis, who was seated all by his lonesome in one of the living room corners. He was a nervous wreck. If he had stood up, he would of started pacing. Along with being nervous, he was tense, and it was all coming from his and his brothers being left all alone in a strange house that was in a strange neighborhood that was full of humans that were nothing more than strangers to them. He had lost track of the time; to him, it felt like forever since their mother went with Mr. Leinart to the car dealership. He didn't much like being left in a strange place that was in a strange neighborhood.

"Did you see the lamp that looks like a man trying to pull the plug out from the wall?" Lazeer asked Hazaar.

"Hell yeah! Did you see the Leg Lamps? I bet Bile asked for one of them." Hazaar replied.

"The lamp of the dog taking a poop was hilarious!" Lazeer exclaimed. "Which lamp did you ask for?"

"Only when it's put up in my room shall you know." Hazaar said.

"Bile, what'd you ask for?" Lazeer asked. He was very excited.

"The Spine Lamp, Bro. Thought it was cool." Bile replied.

"Spine Lamp? I didn't see any Spine Lamps in the ca-k-talog I was given." Guyunis said. "Where'd you see tha-k-t?"

"On the back of the back flap," Bile replied. Guyunis now knew why he hadn't seen the lamp. He hadn't even given it a thought about looking at the back of the back flap of the catalog that he was given. "What lamp did you ask for, G?"

"The grenade lamp and the nuke lamp." Guyunis replied.

"Good. Damn. Choices!" Bile said. "You asked for two?"

"Yeah," Guyunis looked down in a sort of embarrassed shame.

"Asked for three—you dorks will have to wait until everything's delivered to see what they look like." Bile said. His evil smile was so prominent that the fangs, that were on his top and lower jaws, were able to be seen.

When the sound of kids talking outside was heard, they went into quiet mode. When the talking grew louder, and closer, Hazaar slowly turned his body around; after craning his neck slightly, he looked out the window that he was sitting under. He saw that the talking was coming from a group of five teenagers, all girls; they were slowly walking by the house that he and his brothers were in. When the girl that was walking in front of the group turned to look at the house, he ducked out of view.

Guyunis felt a sort of curiosity sweep over him; he stood up then walked over to where the room's windows were. The girls were still there when he approached them; when they saw him, they started to point and then chat among themselves madly. He left the window to take his seat back in the corner afterwards—he wasn't entirely new to this girl-gossip thing; he had heard it all before with the teenage girls that his former adoption families had had. They saw something then they turned and started up a ruckus about that something in an elevated, silly way. That was the way them things went; the boys talked tough while the girls talked in an elevated, silly, girlie sort of way. Lazeer stood up after he sat back in the corner; the elevated talking that the girls were doing grew louder after they saw him. Guyunis had no choice but to laugh after Lazeer sat back down.

"Girlies will drive anyone k-crazy." he said after he laughed.

"The way they talk is outrageous!" Bile exclaimed. He then started imitating a girl. "Did you _seeeee_ them _shooooes_? Oh they were _soooo cuuuute_! How about that perfume? The bottle was so beautifully made and the smell was _sooooo_ good."

"You are pathetic!" Lhaklar said between laughs.

Guyunis laughed then went silent; he went back to thinking what he had before the girls—or girlies, as he called them—had shown up. He didn't want to rain on anyone's parade, or down his bruders' excitement, so he kept what he was thinking to himself. While the act of looking through the catalog, and picking stuff out for his room, was fun, he was very certain that the human who said he'd take care of the cost of things wasn't going to get it all. Humans had a way of being sneaky; they said that they were going to do something and they never did or, if they did do it, it'd be done sometime down the road. He and his bruders, he figured, would be happy if the man was faithful in getting the main items that they had asked for; he was very sure that he wasn't going to go all out on getting the extra, non-furnishing items that they had asked for. If the human actually went on to get him the two lamps, and rugs, that he had asked for, he'd be really surprised.

While he was both a pessimistic and an optimistic person, he wasn't dumb by any means—he knew why he and his family had lived in caves for the last six months and he also understood what his new mum was trying to do. While he knew he had changed some in how he treated the humans, he didn't think her attempts in getting him to see humanity in a much better way was going to have a good pay-off. He still thought that the humans were ruthless scoundrels hell-bent on destruction. He still had a lot of fear towards her sending him away too—on some nights, he fell asleep and then started having dreams that were nothing more than nightmares, and all of them were much the same. In them, he'd see himself as waking and then seeing the people from the orphanage talking to his new mum. He was taken away from his new family in each of them dreams and his mum, in each of them, would look and then walk away as he cried and begged for her to not send him away—due to his imitating his crying and screaming self from his dreams, he had woke his mum up... He had scared her and, by his doing that, he had grown even more scared. On some nights, he had found himself as sleeping almost on top of her—it seemed that the dreams went away when she was close-by.

"They did as they should when I did that—a mum's suppose to protect and help her kids, and mine's sure done that, and more, for me." he thought while retaining the urge to smile.

Hazaar got up then left the room after he thought what he did; he listened as he went upstairs to, what he believed, his bedroom—his bruders, during the activity that took place with all the main appliances being brought in then installed, had taken their things up to their rooms. His bruder stayed upstairs for a little under a minute before returning; when he returned, he had a few magazines on him. Hazaar was a frequent reader of hunting and pornographic magazines; he did, on occasion, read a fishing magazine. The magazines that he brought down were the April and June editions of Playboy. After returning to the window that he had sat under earlier, he sat beside Lazeer. He opened one of the magazines afterwards. While Lazeer didn't scooch over closer, he did look down at the magazine.

Bile got up next. Guyunis listened as his oldest bruder went upstairs to his picked room. Bile was only gone a minute; when he returned, he had two magazines with him—last month's Hustler, another pornographic magazine, and this month's Knives, a magazine that was totally devoted to knives or other sharp, knife-like instruments. Soon after Bile sat down, Lhaklar got up. He went upstairs to his picked room; when he came back down, he had two of his own magazines with him—he saw that they were that month's In-Fisherman and Sport Fishing. He had learned very quickly that all of his new bruders read much the same material—despite this, they still preferred to have separate magazines. He figured that they did this to stop themselves from fighting about a specific magazine that was desired to be read but that wasn't available yet.

Seeing as he didn't want to be left out, Guyunis stood up. He stretched then went up to the room that he had shyly claimed as his own. After entering the room, he went towards the jean bag that some of his stuff was in.

Although he had all of that current month's hunting and fishing magazines in his bag, he also had magazines that were devoted to log homes, cabins, and tattoos as well. He liked log homes and cabins; they were peaceful and unique, and he also liked tattoos because they were cool. His new mum had given him a look after catching him reading the March edition of Tattoo Society, a magazine that was devoted to tattoos. While she said that she was fine with him looking at magazines that had that material in them she had also said that he wasn't allowed to get any "body art" until he was "a man". Mutter's knew their children almost like books; they didn't need to be told most things, they simply had to look to know what was going on within their kids' heads and his new mum had shown him that on the day where she found him reading his Tattoo Society magazine. His face had gotten real hot afterwards but he had promised her that he wouldn't get any "body art" until reaching manhood—he knew that the process of getting a tattoo was painful and he also knew that it could be dangerous; there were reports of people getting HIV and AIDs from the tattoo artist using either a dirty or a used needle on their clients and there were also reports of infections happening as well.

He had that month's issue of Tattoo Society in his bag along with Tattoo, Inked, Log Home Living, Country's Best Cabins, and Cabin Life. He also had Hunting, Gun Hunter, Modern Fishing, Adventure Fishing, and Fly Rod and Reel along with a few copies of Penthouse—the latter, of which, was a Pornographic magazine—in his bag. While Lhaklar had more fishing magazines than he, and while he had an interest in tattoos, log homes, and cabins, he and his bruders were pretty evenly matched on the other magazines that they read. He liked that.

There were a lot of similarities between he and his bruders—like the one that just fell out of his bag. As he bent down to pick up the HB cigarette pack, he remembered the look that his new mum had gotten on her face when she came upon him smoking one of the white papered tobacco sticks that had a yellowish-gold end. He had thought that he was in trouble but, to his surprise, she had just given her head a shake then told him to be careful; she had also told him to not smoke but so much a day. He had promised that he wouldn't.

He had started slipping Lenora Meyer's cigarettes after the fifth year that he was in her and her husband's "care"; he had just slipped one or two of the smokes from her unguarded pack then he walked on. Back then, the cigarettes were a simple outlet for his frustrations; now, they were just a habit. Besides the HB cigarettes, he also smoked Gold Flake. His bruders also smoked—Lhaklar was fond of the cigarette brand called Black Devil, a Netherlands brand that's Indian tobacco was wrapped in a black paper; Hazaar smoked Kamel Light Red and Marlboro's while Lazeer simply grabbed a cigarette from either Hazaar or Lhaklar to smoke. Bile smoked the good stuff—mid-grade weed that, despite its mid-gradiness, was actually pretty good.

Their mum allowed them to smoke but only so much a day—she didn't want their lungs to get hurt. She also let them read whatever magazines they wanted to. She was a good mum... he could see why his bruders loved her so much—he felt just as much love towards her as they did. She treated him like one of the family which was also great. Like his bruders, he was protective of her—that was new; he had never shown protectiveness towards any of his former adoptive mutters before. This was a first and he was glad for it as it showed that he had settled into the family. When that Leinart-man pulled in close to her, he had tensed up. He was ready to spring forward at any indication that the man was about to hurt her but, for the man's sake, nothing happened. After returning his smokes to his bag, he grabbed the June and July editions of Tattoo and Inked from his bag then left his bedroom.

"Tattoos," Bile said after Guyunis took his seat back in the corner of the living room. "I'm surprised that you haven't got an interest in knives or motorcycles."

"I do have an interest in mo-k-torcycles," Guyunis replied. "just haven't got-k-ten any magazines on them."

"You'll have to start getting some next month," Lhaklar said.

Bile nodded his head then went back to his magazine, which had several forms attached to the pages that had collectible knives and their prices on them. He had a mind to put a bug in his mother's ear about some of them. The first form that he came to showed a Damascus steel fix blade; there were small brass studs all throughout the knife's handle. The knife's price was $14.95—American cash, naturally; Knives was an American magazine, after all. The form that was on the next page had another fix blade on it. The blade of this knife was long and double edged; it had a brass knuckle handle, which he thought was wickedly cool. The knuckle-handled knife was more expensive than the Damascus steel knife—it was priced at $29.95, with $5.00 extra for shipping and handling, of course.

Bile turned to the middle of the magazine; the article that was on page 35 was on the banned switchblade knives, which he knew were rather dangerous. He read the article for a short while then turned the page. As he looked at the poster that was in the center of the magazine—the poster was of a bowie knife; while there were skull engravings on the knife's blade, the handle was black—he found himself thinking back to when his dreaded father had stumbled upon a way into the shields that his mother had put up either before or soon after his birth.

Like his mother, he didn't believe what the man had said about his simply stumbling on a way into the shields, or on the tunnels that went under them. He had a feeling that his father had some help. Maybe the man had gotten some juvenile delinquent to bring a portion of one of the shields down or maybe he recruited someone who could bypass the shields to go into the shields to dismantle them from within or something. He was all for staying in North America and putting up a bruiser of a fight; he had wanted to teach the man, who he commonly called Dark Dad, a thing or two. His mother had pointed out some very important things to him that had stopped that wish to remain quickly.

He knew that his father had killed kin before; he decapitated one of his older half-sisters, who went by the name of Azone. She had just been presented to him after he won the final battle for his birth planet—Gamma Vile. He had also promised his other older half-sister, Dione, a life of torture and captivity as well. Both Dione and Azone had taken up arms against him for the safety and freedom of Gamma Vile; after they and their collected forces were defeated, they were brought to him. Azone was killed while Dione was imprisoned—er, for a little while. Dione escaped soon after being imprisoned; before fleeing to Earth, she paid her father a visit, and then broke and took a piece of his war-weapon. His mother's maternal line ran back to her; Dione was his great-great-great grandmother.

His father had tried to kill Lhaklar when he was a small, defenseless infant. He had also tried to kill him when he was no more than a year old and he had also tried to make his mother abandon both he and Lhaklar on more than one occasion. The man had actually killed his mother by thrusting his hand into her; from what his mother had told him, his father had used his hand much like a dagger on her. After his long, dark blue fingernails went into her, and then were ripped out of her, she died. Luckily, for him and his siblings, the Gods hadn't allowed his father to taste that little victory for long. There was no telling what the man would do if he found that they were on Earth. For all any of them knew, he could try to imprison them, separate them from their mother, or worse, kill them just for the hell of it. Guyunis was just as threatened by the man as they were—Dark Dad would probably see him as another threat then say for his head to be lopped off or something. They left North America as a family; so far, they had stayed safe. After looking at his magazine, he closed and then put it to the side; he grabbed the Hustler magazine afterwards. He had no more opened that magazine when a car's horn started blaring.

"Either that damn human is just plain stupid or the person that he or she is trying to reach is deaf." Hazaar said. He was annoyed; it was going on twenty seconds since the car's horn started being blared.

"Humans plain like to make noise, jus-k-t ignore it." Guyunis said when the car's horn continued to blare.

Bile stood up to see what was going on after the car's horn continued to blare; Mr. Leinart had said that the neighborhood was safe... Well, if there were humans going around, laying and then leaving their hands on their car's horn, then that assumption needed to be double-checked. Bile went over to the window that was beside the one that Hazaar and Lazeer were under; his jaw dropped when he saw what was being driven up the house's driveway a second later.

He knew who owned the Shuttle Van that was coming up the drive; his surprise wasn't focused on that. His attention was fully centered on the car that was behind the Shuttle Van. The car that was behind the van was a dark blue color. The headlights that were on its front looked like big, oval eyes; the grille was a light silver color; and the fenders were nearly the same shade of blue as the rest of the car. Bile's shock over seeing the car was amplified when he saw who the driver was—his mother looked to be seated rather comfortably behind the wheel; it looked like she had a wide grin on her face. Bile was about to call his brothers over to take a look at what he was seeing when four semi-trucks suddenly pulled up. Two of the semi's parked in the driveway while the other two parked on the curb. Bile didn't waste breath on telling his brothers what was going on; he left the window, and then the living room, then he went outside.

"Ma, what..." Bile started to say after reaching the carport; his feet had barely touched the sidewalk after he left the house.

"Ya like, Biley?" Angel asked her son. "It's one of them Porsche D2's, new model. Has remote control doors and the hood and trunk are also remote controlled."

The vehicle that his mother had driven up in was one of them four-door types—the seats were a dull black color; the dashboard was dark blue while the cover of the steering wheel had an electric blue swirl pattern on a black and gray background. When he opened the car's front passenger door, he saw that the car had a dark blue carpet on its floor. The polyester that was on the car's ceiling matched the carpet perfectly. As he was closing the front passenger door, he took notice of the new-car smell that the car had to—the smell was sort of pungent... He found himself both liking and hating it at the same time.

When he walked around to the rear section of the car, he saw that the car's exhaust was rather short. He also noticed that the car's tires had thin rims on them. His mother had some paperwork in one of her hands; the key-ring that she had in her left hand had a copper-colored key and a remote control device on it, which seemed rather bulky to him. Stefan Leinart got out of his Shuttle Van slowly; before closing the door to his van, he looked over at him. Bile took one look behind him after the man and he locked eyes—it looked like all of his brothers had come out of the house after he had. They were all staring at the car. After taking note of his brothers' whereabouts, Bile saw that there was a ring of humans looking at what was going on—they were about a house and a half away but they could see everything that was going on. The people that were in the semi-trucks started taking things out from the backs of their vehicles after his brain registered the fact that there was a ring of humans nearby.

"You boys hurry on to your rooms now, show them fellows where you want your stuff put." Angel said. No lip was given; all of her sons high-tailed it back to the house.

Petra never went to the mall with her friends; after seeing the activity that was going on either in or around the old Kaufer house, she decided to stick around home. The first truck that showed up at the house belonged to one of the nearby appliance companies. Several big boxes were in its back... all of them were picked up and then carted to the house by the men who were in the truck. After the truck was seen, one of them Shuttle Vans drove up and then parked in the house's driveway—the thought of whether the house's new owners were in the van, or in the truck, had just crossed her mind when her country's president left the van. Her jaw had just about dropped after the man was seen; President Leinart, as the man was commonly called on the news, went into the house soon after getting out of the van. After staying in the house for a short while, he left; he had a woman with him at the time—she could swear that the woman's hair, which was a very red color, was glowing... The brick front of the house, the sidewalk that ran along the front of the house, and the grass that was near the sidewalk had all gotten a red glow to them when the woman walked past them.

The two had gotten in the Shuttle Van and then driven off; she went across the street to Kirstin Abbing's house after they left. She and Kirstin had been friends for a while now so it was perfectly fine. They both knew that to just stand and stare at the goings-on with the new neighbors was rude; since her friend was equally curious about what was going on, and since they couldn't just stand and stare at what was going on, the trip across the street was made.

About twenty minutes after the red-haired woman left with the president, she and Kirstin left the house. They met up with three more of their friends; the decision to take a little walk down the street, to see if they could see what was going on in the Kaufer house, was made after they met up. They talked while they walked; while they mostly talked about the Kaufer house, and what was going on in the Kaufer house, and President Leinart being seen in their neighborhood, they had also talked about what they were planning on doing that summer. She had just gotten through mentioning her hope of getting a good tan that summer when a dark-skinned kid appeared in one of the Kaufer house's living room windows. The kid, who looked to be around nineteen years of age, left the window soon after they saw him. A few seconds after he left the window, a different kid was seen. She and her friends had talked on what they had seen before going to Kirstin's house; they had talked a lot more over what they had seen after entering the house.

They weren't able to see much of the first kid; from that one, brief sighting, they thought he looked pretty rugged and strong. His face and body were rather dark and, for some odd reason, he was wearing a pair of slanted, yellow sunglasses. Kirstin seemed to be the only one to of noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt. The second kid that they saw had looked younger; on a guess, he looked to be around sixteen or so years old. She did have to admit that he looked rather cute. Kai Berg said that the kid looked familiar; she hadn't really been a big participant in the gossiping about the two kids that they had seen. Anja Bayer, who lived on the next street over with her grandparents, had said that she liked the first kid better than the second while Letta Carver, who lived right beside her and her family, had said that the second kid looked better than the first. They had talked for a short while longer then, when the car horn started being blared, they went outside.

Upon leaving the Abbing house, she noticed that her mum was standing with a few of the neighbors. She led her group of friends over; they had no more reached the adults when Bile ran out of the seemingly empty Kaufer house. The dark-skinned kid and the other kid—Kai had identified him as Lazeer very quickly after he came out of the house—and Lhaklar and Hazaar were hot on his heels.

She, her friends, her neighbors, and her mum had watched as four trucks either pulled up the house's driveway or parked on the curb that was in front of the house. Soon after parking, the movers started moving the furniture that was in the trucks into the house; Angel Irene had come out to walk around the house slowly a couple of times—the dark-skinned kid had accompanied her on two of them trips. They had all observed him walking nearly on top of her during each of them walks. Everyone had dispersed after Angel Irene and the dark-skinned kid finished their second trip around the house. Her friends went home, the neighbor's went home, and she and her mum went home; from time to time, they'd see either Bile or that dark-skinned kid as they crossed in front of the windows that were in the two rooms that faced her and her parents' house. They saw a lot of the movers as they moved the furniture around in them two bedrooms too.

Privacy was given to the family that had just moved in—no one went over to do introductions or to see how they were doing or even to ask why they moved into the neighborhood. At twelve-noon, some newspaper journalists showed up. Someone had obviously said something in town about Angel Irene and her sons moving into the house; the tip was too good for the local journalists to not check out. Mr. Leinart had sent them all off; no photographs were taken and no questions were asked or answered. The movers left the house about an hour later. They said nothing after leaving the house; they just got in their trucks then drove off. Mr. Leinart left the house thirty minutes later; the Porsche D2 was the only vehicle in the driveway now. The house, and the neighborhood, went back to being quiet afterwards.

At six-thirty, some hours after the movers and Mr. Leinart left, a Domino's Pizza delivery car drove up the house's driveway. The delivery guy, who was dressed in a pair of black pants and a red and white checkered shirt, delivered three pizzas to the residence; Petra had seen him go into the house. He stayed in the house for a few minutes before leaving.

It was a rather exciting day for her; while she felt a little tired, she didn't feel like taking a nap. She was curious about her new neighbors.

"Whatcha doin', mumma?" Sarah asked her mother, who was taking a baking sheet out from the oven.

"Making a batch of brownies for Miss. Irene and her sons." Mitzi replied. "Sort of tradition, girls. I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

"Who was that one kid? The dark-skinned one." Petra asked. "Mum, do you know?"

"I haven't a clue—if he's with Miss. Irene, then it's a sure bet he's one of her children." Mitzi replied.

"The books only mention her having four kids," Sarah said. "Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer."

"Sometimes books don't include things," Mitzi replied.

"I see him!" Sarah exclaimed after she went to help her mother cut the brownies into small squares. "Lhaklar is the one who has green skin, right?"

"Mint-green, yes." Mitzi replied.

"I just saw him—I really like his eyes! They're really shiny!"

"Probably inherited from his dat," Mitzi replied. "From what I've read, his datty happens to be Miss. Irene's great-uncle. Hazaar and Lazeer have the same dat too."

"Mrs. Fayner just went over," Petra said. She went into the living room to look at the house that was beside her own after hearing her sister's claim of seeing Lhaklar. There was a window on the far side of the living room; it faced the Kaufer house. She was able to see the house with no trouble at all. "She had a tray with her."

"Everyone's making them feel welcome," Mitzi smiled. "That's a good thing, they'll feel welcome and they'll calm down faster."

"Why here, though?" Sarah asked. "Why—"

"Why does anyone choose anyplace to live, Sarah?" Mitzi gave her youngest daughter a watch-it look. "They probably saw Germany as a safe place. Master Vile's not here; they won't be bothered by him. Mr. Leinart's probably the one who brought them to this neighborhood."

"I'd bet my arm that he's helping them with everything—he's been in and out of that house all day today." Petra said.

"If he is then that's good. With all that they've gone through, they would need a lot of help to get started." Mitzi replied. She had actually voted for Stefan Leinart's campaign; her husband had voted for the other guy.

Petra went back to the living room. She looked out one of the room's windows and saw that there were more people walking over to the now former Kaufer house. Mrs. Fayner had obviously left already. Mr. and Mrs. Bluhm had obviously gone over during her return to the kitchen; they were walking away from the house now. Here came Mrs. Basinger, Mrs. Dreyfuss, and Mr. and Mrs. Geller with their eighteen year old daughter, Lucretia. They all had things in their hands that they had made for the family that now lived in the house.

As she took in this activity, she noticed that Kirstin and her parents were also walking across the street. Each of them had a plate in their hands. Petra remembered well what happened after she and her parents moved into the area—even though she was three years old at the time, she remembered that the neighbors did the same for her family. Plastic plates that had cookies on them, bowls of pudding, cakes, brownies... even jello was given to them as welcome-to-the-neighborhood gifts—they had so much dessert food stocked in the fridge that they didn't need to prepare or make any desserts for months. Five families had walked over to the former Kaufer house, all with food to give as welcome-to-the-neighborhood gifts and, from what she had seen in the kitchen, there was about to be a sixth added soon.

Petra found herself thinking about the dark-skinned kid again; there was something about him that fascinated her. Was it the fact that Kirstin had said something about him not wearing a shirt? Maybe; most of the boys that she either hung around with or saw wore something over their top halves. Was it the fact that he had pitch-black skin? Maybe. It could also be the yellow glasses that he was wearing—those had sure grabbed her attention; they had glowed... had looked like flashlight beams. She had never seen glasses that looked like them before in her life! Here it was, nearly time for her fader to return home from work, and nearly time for her mutter to head out to take his place at the hospital, and all she could think about was the happenings of that day and that dark-skinned kid. Her arms popped out in gooseflesh at the same time that her mutter walked into the room; if she was asked if a sort of first-sight crush had happened with her she'd of quickly said no back. While she had experienced several crushes in her tenure as a student at the Elchesheim-Illingen hauptschule, she had never really felt one of this magnitude before. She was somewhat spooked over how she felt about that dark-skinned kid.

"Petra, you and Sarah come along now." Mitzi said. When Petra jumped, she shook her head. "We need to deliver these, say a few words, then come back. I have work in less than twenty minutes, and your fader will be home in less than ten minutes."

He couldn't help but smile as he looked around the room that was across the hall from Bile's—everything that he had asked for was gotten for him; while it was exciting in getting it all, his being allowed to give orders to the human movers on where he wanted it to all go was a good bonus.

The bed, that was against the wall, that was on the left side of his room, was big enough for only one person—he had asked for a single-sized mattress and frame and that was what Mr. Leinart had gotten for him. The bed's frame was one of them Astrid Queen Platform types; the legs that held it up were set in a splayed out way. He liked that small detail in the frame. The mattress had no sheets or blankets on it; there were no pillows either. A distressed wooden side table was beside the bed; the lamp, that was on the table's surface, was the exact same one that he saw and then checked in the catalog that Mr. Leinart had given him that morning. He came very close to check-marking the little square that was beside the pooping dog lamp; when his eye landed on the dinosaur lamp, that had all the plastic Stegosaur, Velociraptor, Tyrannosaurus Rex, and Triceratops figurines on its base, he just had to have it. The shade of the lamp that was on the surface of his side table was a dark yellow color; he thought it went well with the rest of the lamp.

The stained oak hardwood dresser that he had asked for was on the right side of the room; it was shoved up against the top right corner. The image that was in the catalog had shown a seven-drawer dresser; the dresser that was put in his room was lacking one of them drawers... which he was okay with. He only needed six drawers anyways. The royal cherry colored bookcase that he had asked for was beside the dresser; along with being 71" high, it had five shelves on it. At the moment, the bookcase had just two things on it—he was one who liked dinosaurs so, after seeing the lamp that had all the dinosaur figurines on its base, he had paid particular attention to the rest of what the lamp section of the catalog had in it. While no other dinosaur lamps were found in the catalog, he had come across a vintage glass airplane lamp—it was sitting on the third shelf of his bookcase. While the Flying Saucer lamp had looked a little childish, he had liked it enough to ask for it. It was beside the airplane lamp.

Mr. Leinart had gone out of his way to get him a 30" flat screen tv as well—that was mounted on the wall across from the foot of his bed by one of the men who brought his things in. The Indian imitation Optical Illusion rug, that he saw and asked for, was on the floor beside his bed. The room's closet was between the dresser, bookcase, and corner desk—the three-legged, white oak corner desk, that he saw in the catalog, had required some assembly by the movers. With his liking to do dinosaur, airplane, and boat models, a small desk was needed. When he asked for the desk, he forgot about getting a chair to match it; Mr. Leinart had gone out of his way in getting him a chair that matched the desk—he had made sure to thank the man after the desk and chair were placed in his room.

While his room wasn't as empty as it use to be, it still felt empty to him. He had yet to unpack his duffel bag, or put any of his hunting trophies up. There was too much going on for him to do that. The newspaper journalists that showed up had slowed down progress on their getting their house all fixed up. Mr. Leinart had sent them away politely; they had not come back. Up to when the journalists showed up, Guyunis was a trooper through most of the activity that was going on in the house. He went through one of his freak-out moments soon after the journalists showed up; in order for him to calm down, their mother took him for a walk around the house. Twice. Before the two disappeared around the back, he saw that Guyunis was nearly walking on top of her. Guyunis went back to saying where he wanted his asked for things to be put after returning from his walks. Their mother did the living room, kitchen, and dining room first before moving onto the master bedroom—which, naturally, was hers. She did all of this in-between walks around the house; them walks, she said, were like a good way of taking a rest between room decorating. Guyunis had accompanied her on two of them.

In all, it took them a few hours to get everything in the house set-up; the humans that came in to assist them were right friendly. Even when Guyunis went through his two freak-out moments, they remained friendly.

Mr. Leinart took their mother to the side a short while after most of the house-furnishing was squared away; their mother—actually, all of them—was quite surprised when the man slid an envelope, that had €5,000 in it, into her hand. The man had said that it was a gift from the People of Germany and from the People of Earth; even after being told that she couldn't accept it, he refused to take it back. Mr. Leinart had left to go home shortly after the monetary gift was given over. A short breather was experienced before the question on what they wanted for supper was asked. Since Mr. Leinart had gotten the phone bill paid, and had personally bought them a phone, they had all decided to have a light supper of pizza. After the call to the local Domino's restaurant was made, two cheese pizzas and a pepperoni pizza were ordered. The restaurant was quite speedy in having them pizzas delivered.

The first meal that they ate together as a family in their new house was a decent one. They enjoyed the pizzas; they were good and their nearly empty stomachs had relished in the food that they had eaten. They had just picked a third slice of pizza up when the door knocking began. Guyunis went stiff with fright after the first knock was heard; before going to see who knocked, their mother calmed him down. They had expected for their visitor to be Mr. Leinart but, surprisingly, it was a neighbor bringing them a little something as a welcome gift instead.

Mrs. Zelma Fayner came in for only a second; before saying hello, she gave the house's interior a quick checking. A plastic-wrapped tray of German Chocolate Cake was on her at the time; before leaving the house, she handed it over. Peter and Mandy Bluhm had come next; they brought a plastic bowl of jello with them. Mrs. Marlene Basinger had come by the house soon after; after a short exchange of words and pleasantries, a thick plastic plate, that a Black Forest Cake was on, was given over. Christa Dreyfuss was let in next. Mrs. Dreyfuss gave them a large bowl of Franzbrötchen—a small, sweet pastry that was baked with butter and cinnamon—before going on her way. Claude and Pia Geller, and their daughter, Lucretia, had come by next with a bowl of Berliner—a type of pastry that looked similar to a jelly donut—then Mr. and Mrs. Abbing, and their daughter, Kirstin, had walked over to say hello. Mr. and Mrs. Abbing and Kirstin had a plastic plate each of Buchteln—a type of sweet roll that was made of yeast dough that was filled with either ground poppy seeds or curd—for them. Their mother had accepted each of the gifts that were given to her; she said her thank-you's then she asked their guests to come in. Except for Mrs. Fayner, each of their guests had politely said that they couldn't; most of the people that came by had said that they didn't want to impose on them or make them feel uncomfortable in their new home.

His right shoulder was throbbing just a little; he reached one of his arms back to rub it—during the meal of pizza, he had asked Guyunis if he was still going to kick his ass. He hadn't meant to be hurtful with his song; he had only been playing off on his problem in needing to go to the bathroom yet not wanting to because of the water not being on.

Guyunis had said nothing back. He had simply reached over, grabbed a napkin, wiped his hands, then stood up. He hadn't had time to get away; his older, adoptive brother was quick in swinging his fist at his backside. An explosion of pain was felt. He yelled then jumped up from the chair that he was sitting on. His mother, quick as a flash, had said for Guyunis to apologize then sit down afterwards. While his shoulder was still throbbing, the pain wasn't as bad now. After his mother gave Guyunis a little chiding, Guyunis had looked at him. He apologized then said that he was given payback for his song-doing. Bile laughed; Hazaar gave Guyunis, who he was sitting beside, a punch in the arm; and Lhaklar said _good going, G_.

With Guyunis's punch being as strong as it was, he had a feeling that he'd be seeing a bruise on his shoulder by morning's start, if not sooner. He guessed that he'd of done the same if Guyunis had done as he had to him; he was being a sport about his brother punching him. Guyunis's punch was just as powerful as Bile's and, since he and Bile had their moments where punches were given out, he had just taken Guyunis's swinging at him as one of them moments where brothers had their physical fights. He was glad that it was his shoulder—had it of been his head, he would probably not be standing or walking around right now.

"Lazeer, can you come down for a minute honey?" Lazeer heard his mother say from downstairs. "I need some help."

"Coming."

He left his bedroom then went down the still-naked, second-floor hallway; when he reached the stairs, he was fast in descending them. After exiting the stairs, then walking around the corner, he stopped then gawked at what he was seeing. There was his mother, looking as beautiful as ever, pushing a tack, from which a photograph would soon be hanging from, into the wall. After seeing this sight, he asked no questions on what she wanted help with—he went forward then started helping her in putting more tacks in the wall.

After the first tack was in the wall, his mother reached into the box that was in front of her; this box, which was brown and medium-sized, and which was found and then scarfed up from the back of one of Colorado's many Walmart retail stores, had several, rather important things in it. While it was a shock in hearing that their mother had indulged in thievery, they doubted if the box was missed by the store.

Nothing had yet to be put on the walls; it was quite obvious that the box had just been retrieved from their underground storage. The wooden frame, that was removed from box, had a photograph of all six of them in it—the photograph that was in the frame wasn't taken with a camera; it had previously been nothing more than a memory. Lhaklar had made it after using his Telepathy on their mother to extract the memory of her returning to them with Guyunis. They were all standing around a rather teary-eyed Guyunis; Bile had his hand on Guyunis's shoulder while Hazaar and he had ganged up on him for a dual hug. Lhaklar, who was standing on Guyunis's left, was all smiles. That night would be in his memory forever. He had gained a new brother, one who he had grown up with on several occasions.

"You putting them all up, mama?" Lazeer asked.

"Sure am—all very precious memories." Angel replied. She hung the photograph up then she reached down for another frame; the one that she took up had five photographs in it. All of the photographs that were in the frame were of them from when they were infants—there was even a photograph of Guyunis from when he was just born in the frame. Lhaklar had gotten Guyunis's permission to get it from his memory banks just for the frame.

"How big was he when he was a newborn, ma?" Lazeer asked. Like Bile, he used the words ma and mama too, but, unlike Bile, he didn't call his mother ma or mama all the time.

"He weighed eight and a half pounds—chunky thing!" Angel replied. She hung the frame that had the five photographs in it on the wall. "He was twenty-one inches long."

"He rival his father in newborn weight and length?"

"Almost—his father was nearly nine pounds when he was born. He was also twenty-three inches long." Angel replied.

The photograph that she hung up next was one that Lhaklar had taken from her memory banks some years ago—it was of Hazaar from when he was three hundred and eighty years old. In the photograph, he was walking down the stairs that were in their old Canadian apartment; he was wearing a pair of dark green and blue footie pajamas. His left arm was up; he was wiping the sleep out of his eyes with the hand that was attached to that arm. The next photograph that she hung up was of him; it was another one that Lhaklar had taken from her memory banks some years ago. In this photograph, he was two hundred and eighty years old; he was clinging to the banister of the same stairs that were in their old Canadian apartment. He was refusing to come down because he was afraid he'd trip and fall. He moved over a step after that photograph was hung on the wall. A photograph of Bile, from when he was seven hundred and forty-one years old, was put up next. Bile was holding him; he was no more than a hundred and forty-one years old at the time.

Another photograph of a seven hundred and forty-one year old Bile was put up next; he and Hazaar, who, at that time, was two hundred and forty-one years old, were on his lap. He moved over another step after that one was up; his mother was fast in putting another photograph up—a six hundred and forty-one year old Lhaklar was in this one. He and Hazeer were on his lap. The three photographs that were just put on the wall were taken at the same time; a professional camera-person had taken them. After the next tack was stuck in the wall, his mother hung a photograph that had her in it—she was sitting on a patch of flowers. He was on her lap while Hazaar was sitting beside her; Bile and Lhaklar were standing behind her. Like with the three previously hung photographs, this one was taken by a professional—the same man responsible for the other three photographs had taken it.

His mother stepped back; she looked at the arrangement of photographs that were on the wall then she got a thoughtful look on her face. She went back to rummaging through the box a few seconds later.

There was a long, dark brown cabinet, that had two shelves on it, under the photographs that his mother had just put up; she saw it in the catalog that Mr. Leinart had given them. Like with all the rest of what they saw and then marked in the catalogs, it was gotten and then delivered to them. She started placing picture frames on this cabinet—these had all of them, at various ages, in them. The first one that she put up had all five of them in it. They were on an island in the Caribbean; their mother had brought them to her last day of working on Water Works, a movie that she did the special effects on by use of her Elemental Powers. Due to it being rather chilly on that day, they were all wearing jackets. Bile—who was one thousand and eighty-two years old at the time of the movie's completion—and Lhaklar—who was nine hundred and eighty-two years old at the time of the movie's completion—were on the island's shore. They were using their Elemental powers to splash water on one another in a game of chase. He and Hazaar were wrestling on the beach. His blue and black jacket was nearly off of him, and Hazaar had sand in his rattail. Guyunis was in the photograph as well; he was permanently frozen in mid-jump above them. He was about to join them in wrestling. Guyunis was seven hundred and eighty-two years old in the picture while Hazaar was five hundred and eighty-two years old and he was four hundred and eighty-two years old.

The photograph that she put up next was of Bile and Guyunis standing in another of their old, Canadian apartments. They were in the kitchen; Bile was standing in front of the sink... the window that was over of the sink showed that it was about to storm. Thick, black clouds hung all over; it was very dark outside but the photograph wasn't dark at all. It gave a rather happy feeling... a feeling of contentment and happiness. Bile was just one thousand, eight hundred, and twenty years old; he was just starting to move from wearing non-torn or ripped shirts to shirts that had a rip here, a tear there, and so forth—his arms were really starting to fill out with firm muscle! Due to their being with a few friends, he, Lhaklar, and Hazaar weren't in the photograph. Guyunis was standing next to Bile in the photograph; he stood just five foot, eight and a half inches tall—just a few inches shorter than Bile, who, at the time, was six foot, one and a half inches tall. Guyunis was a tall and thin kid then. He hadn't had any muscle on him at all when he was one thousand, five hundred, and twenty years old. Due to Guyunis not wearing or having a hoodie back then, his head and facial features weren't obscured. His hair was a very black color, and it was very well kept—it came down to his shoulders in the photograph. He was smiling—his crooked, milky-yellow teeth were showing in a pitch black face that had a snub nose, thin to medium-sized lips, and a right gently set brow in it. Guyunis's jaw, which was square-shaped, had looked a bit awkward then; his face had yet to mature to match the shape of his jaw. Lazeer chuckled when he saw the photograph—Bile had the index and middle fingers of his left hand held up behind Guyunis's head. He was giving him a set of rabbit's ears when the photograph was being taken. After his mother put that photograph on the cabinet shelf, she reached back into the box for another.

"Time for some baby, toddler, and kiddie photos of Guyunis to be put up." Angel said with a smile. She placed a photograph of Guyunis, who was no more than a few days old, on the cabinet shelf a second later; Guyunis had a headful of black hair when he was a newborn. His scalene triangular-shaped, glowing yellow eyes were nothing but slits in the photograph. Curiously, his skin wasn't pitch-black back then. In the memorically taken photograph, his skin-color was a dark chocolate color.

"Man was he a—"

"Chunky-monkey, yeah I was." Guyunis said as he walked up.

Guyuns had taken his hoodie down right after Mr. Leinart and the movers had left; it was still down now. The glow from the house's lights lit his dark face up; they also brought out his facial features. Guyunis still had that snub-like nose and them thin to medium-sized lips. His brow had gotten slightly rougher but not by much and his jaw was still square-shaped. Although the face looked much the same as it had when he was one thousand, five hundred, and twenty years old, it did have a tougher, stronger appearance. For the first month that they were a family, Guyunis had refused to take his hood down—he had viewed the hoodie as a way to mask his face, which, at the time, he had thought was morbidly ugly. To that day, he still thought that his face was ugly, but he was taking the hood down and that was good; despite his being a male, he did think that his new, adoptive brother was rather handsome. After growing more accustomed to them, and after growing more confident in himself, Guyunis had taken the hood down. His hair, they had seen, had grown out some... it had also been quite greasy—he hadn't washed it in a long time. His hair, at that time, was also very badly kept—split ends galore; some of his hair had changed from being black to dark gray too.

Lazeer was glad to see that his brother's hair was clean and evenly trimmed; it was all a nice, shiny black color. It went way past his shoulders now.

"Don-k-t you think it's a bit early to hang-k them up?" Guyunis asked. He pointed at the photographs that had him in them.

"Guy-B-Baby, do I need to go through the talk with you again?" Angel asked. She placed her hand on her hip. "You are to be with us forever. I won't be sending you away—you're my son now."

"Guy-B-Baby?" Lazeer repeated the name that his mother had just said. "Look out G, ma's on one of them nick-naming sprees."

"I, uh, no-k-ticed." Guyunis replied. His cheeks had gotten a little heated with his blush. One would really have to get a good look at him to see him blushing; the skin of his cheeks would turn a deep red color that was nearly black whenever he blushed. The same happened when he got a bruise on his body.

She had just gone back to putting more framed pictures up when a knock on the door was heard; with it going on seven o'clock, she was sort of tired of answering the door. The refrigerator—a French-style, 36", stainless steel Energy Star—had enough desserts in it to last a few months; she didn't want it full of nothing but dessert food. Angel placed the framed photograph of Guyunis from when he was a three hundred and seventy-three year old—he had just been brought into their tent; she was holding him close to her—down on the cabinet shelf then she went to answer the door. Guyunis, on instinct, drew his hood up. He had just tucked his long, black hair under the hood when Angel opened the door. Standing on the other side of the door were three ladies—the older, more mature woman was wearing a nurses outfit; the two girls, that were with her, looked related to her. The woman, who had platinum-blonde hair and gray-green eyes, had a plastic plate of brownies in her hands.

"Hi—we're the Klied's. We live just beside you." the mature, platinum-blonde haired woman said.

"Hello, Mrs. Klied." Angel said.

"We just wanted to come over to welcome you and your boys to the neighborhood," Mrs. Klied said.

"Very nice of you, we've been getting a lot of that this fine evening." Angel said. "Behind me are two of my five: Guyunis and Lazeer."

"Hello," one of the girls, the one who had platinum-blonde hair and brown eyes, said. She looked no more than twelve or so years old.

"Hi," the brown haired girl, who gray-green eyes, said.

"Hello there," Angel said.

A little chat was made between the four. Angel called her other sons down; she introduced them then she did her usual in asking if the three Klied ladies wanted to come in. Mrs. Klied said that, while the offer was nice, she had to head off to get ready for work. She also said that her two daughters, who she introduced as Petra and Sarah, had things that called their attentions at home. Mrs. Klied gave the plate of brownies over; she said that she'd see them again soon then she and her two daughters left. Angel closed the door then turned to go to the kitchen. While she hoped that the Klied's would be the last ones to come by to welcome her and her sons to the neighborhood, she had a feeling that they weren't. Guyunis took his hood down then turned to look at the photographs of him that his mum had put up. A chill rolled down his spine after he saw them. After feeling this chill, he shrugged it off then went into the kitchen. He had seen his bruders do what he was about to do several times—he had sort of adopted it.

He walked up to his mum. He placed his head up alongside hers then he gently nuzzled her. Bile had said that they—he, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer—did this to get comfort when they weren't comfortable with something or when they were nervous or scared. Bile had also told him that, when mum wasn't in the mood for comfort-nuzzling, she'd show it by gently pushing the one who had come up to nuzzle his head up against hers back. Seeing as he was a bit stressed out, he tried the move. He was halfway expecting for her to push him away but, instead, he found her reciprocating his nuzzle. After having his gesture returned, he smiled, gave her a hug, then went back upstairs.


	6. Chapter 6

There were a lot of cool, nifty clocks in the clock section of the catalog that they were given; while he liked all of them, he knew better than to ask for more than one. He looked through the section carefully, taking each clock in and reading each given-description from starting word to final word before, finally, picking one out for his room. The one that woke him and his family up on the first day of August 4100 was skull-themed; it had molded resin details and it had a faux wooden finish that gave it a real-like, aged oak appearance. The back was also hinged. The clock part of the clock was underneath the top part of the skull so, when his alarm went off at the set time of eight o'clock, he had to flip the top part of the skull-shaped clock up to shut it off.

After shutting his clock off, he got up from his beddingless bed; after getting dressed, then leaving his room, he saw that his brothers were having a meeting on the landing of the stairs—he, not wanting to be left out of anything, joined them. They discussed their plans for getting the rest of their things unpacked then they went down to say hello and good morning to their mother.

That morning started out pretty simple and normal for them; they ate a light breakfast of brownies and cake then they went up to continue with the unpacking of their things—they had gotten very little done in the unpacking of their things department last night. Too many people had come over to welcome them to the neighborhood. He and his biological brothers were able to put their week's worth supply of clothing in their dresser drawers, and Guyunis was able to put his three pairs of torn pants and socks in his dresser drawers, and their mother was able to put a few things on the walls—each and every time they went to unpack their duffel bags and rugs, they were interrupted.

Mr. and Mrs. Benz, who lived on the next street over, then Mrs. Wulff, who lived on the far end of the street, came over after the three Klied ladies left. About ten minutes after Mrs. Wulff came by, someone else knocked on the door—it was Miss. Schmidt and her fiancé, Mr. Kaiser, who lived three doors down on their right. About twenty minutes after they came by, another knock was heard on the door; Mrs. Maurer, who lived five doors up from them, was on its other side. Like everyone else, she wanted to say hello. She welcomed them to the neighborhood then she gave them a little house-warming gift—unlike everyone else, who gave them food, Mrs. Maurer gave them a basket full of cleaning supplies. Mr. and Mrs. Benz gave them a basket of baked breads, Mrs. Wulff gave them a plastic plate of cupcakes, and Miss. Schmidt and her fiancé gave them a basket of fruit. While they were annoyed with the constant visitors, and the constant interruptions in their unpacking, they had accepted their new neighbors' gifts and they had regarded their new neighbors in a friendly fashion.

About thirty or so minutes after going upstairs, their mother called them down. They had just gotten most of what was in their duffel bags unpacked; while he grumbled over the new interruption that kept him from giving his things a home in his room, he was obedient in leaving his room to see what his mother wanted.

"Ma?" he said after walking into the living room. He was mildly surprised to see that she looked ready to leave the house.

"Boys, we'll be postponing the unpacking for a few hours today." his mother said nearly a minute later. She had purposely waited for his brothers to come downstairs.

"Wh... why, mom?" Lhaklar asked.

An answer to that question wasn't given; their mother had just said for them to get ready to leave the house. They had. After collecting their wallets, then checking to see if the house's windows and doors were all locked, they left the house. They were pretty eager to get in their mother's new car when she said for them to pile in; they were looking forward to getting acquainted with the car that Mr. Leinart had bought for her. That new car smell had leaped right at them the second they got in the car; he had to crank the back right passenger door's window down soon after he got in the vehicle—he had needed relief from that smell... it was enough to make him feel a little dizzy! Lhaklar had done the same thing a few seconds later.

"It's time to fill up them cabinets and that fridge, boys." their mother said after she drove the Porsche D2 down the street that their new home was on. "We'll probably do more than one trip."

"Shouldn't one or two of us stay home then?" Hazaar asked. Their mother's car was been built with only four or five people in mind; with their being six in the car, he was sort of squished between him and Lhaklar.

"No, you're all required to come along." their mother replied. "Try not to fight back there—I know it's cramped. The drive to the store won't be a long one, I promise."

And that was how their normal, simple-starting August 1 went to being not so normal or simple. That drive wasn't pleasant... If anything, it was hell on all of them. After the doors to the car were opened, he, Lhaklar, and Hazaar sat in the back while Lazeer and Guyunis sat in the front; Lhaklar's elbow was pressed tightly against Hazaar's ribs and his left leg was pressed tightly against Hazaar's right one. From a wry observation, he saw that Lazeer was nearly sitting on top of Guyunis—he would of found this funny under normal circumstances. Since the drive to the store wasn't a normal one, he kept his mouth shut. It took all of ten minutes for their mother to reach the store that was in the village of Elchesheim-Illingen.

Right after reaching their destination, and the car was parked, they jumped out then started walking around; some stretches were also done—with conditions in the car being so cramped, they had gone stiff and sore. They had obediently followed their mother to the store a few minutes later.

Guyunis, who had never gone on a shopping trip before, was sort of taken aback by the sight of the store. He had found himself as having to give his adoptive brother a gentle push from the back to get him moving forward. Another gentle push was given after they went into the store. Their mother had given them a few instructions after they were in the store; he was told to grab a cart and do some shopping—Hazaar was told to go with him. Lhaklar had found himself stuck with having Lazeer as his shopping buddy. Their mother had said that Guyunis would be with her. He and Lhaklar went off with Hazaar and Lazeer after grabbing some shopping carts.

"G, can you get one of the carts for me please?" Angel asked after her biological sons went off to do some shopping.

He looked at his new mum for a second then went to where the plastic, gray-colored shopping carts were. He pulled the first cart that he came to away from the others then he backed out of the cart area; his new mum surprised him after he walked out with the cart—he had expected to be the one pushing the cart along... instead, he found the cart being taken from him. He followed his mum as she walked towards the store's aisles. He started out walking slightly behind her then, after they went down the first aisle, he found himself walking beside her.

Bile and Hazaar were spotted in the store's fruit and vegetable section; it looked like Lhaklar and Lazeer were in the canned goods section—after going down the store's cracker and condiment section, he and his mum stopped at the frozen meat section.

Angel placed three things of chicken legs, breasts, and thighs in the cart in a neat and organized way before pushing the cart towards the hamburger section of the frozen meat section of the store. After placing two, big things of hamburger in the cart, she pushed the cart over to the where the ribs were. She studied and then grabbed things of ribs next—pork ribs, beef ribs, ribs that were boneless, and ribs that had bones in them found themselves being thrown in the cart. After the packages of ribs were placed in the cart, she moved on. Guyunis followed her much like a faithful dog would its master; he was sort of confused over why she wanted to do the grocery shopping so early—from what he was told, most humans did their heavy-duty grocery shopping during the afternoon or early-evening hours.

"G,"

"Hmmn?" he responded. After going through the store's frozen meat section, they turned then started down the cereal and boxed foods aisle.

"If you see anything that you want, you be sure to put it in the cart." his mum said.

He nearly started crying. He hadn't heard that being said to him in a very long time; none of the women who were his adoptive mutter's before Angel Irene finally adopted him had taken him to the store or had told him that he could get whatever he wanted from the store shelves. As his mum put several boxes of Mac 'n Cheese, Rice, Sour Cream and Chives potatoes, Au Gratin potatoes, and Instant Mash Potatoes in the cart, he looked at the cereal that was on the other side of the aisle. Anything he wanted? Well, when he was a ward of Lenora and Mathis Meyer Jr., he snuck a few handfuls of the brands of cereals that they had in their kitchen from time to time—he knew what kind of cereal he liked and wanted to have.

He placed two boxes of Pops in the cart then, after giving the other cereal brands that were on the aisle's shelves a good looking over, he picked up a box of Corn Flakes. He picked up a box each of Honey Smacks and Cinnamon Toast Crunch next then he grabbed two boxes of Mini Wheats—he placed all of these in the cart. He decided to stop putting things that he wanted in the cart afterwards. His mum smiled when she saw the boxes of cereal in the cart; she surprised him a few seconds later by putting another box each of the Corn Flakes, Honey Smacks, and Mini Wheats cereals in the cart. After putting the three extra boxes of cereals in the cart she moved on; he started having a bit of fun with the shopping trip afterwards. He placed frozen banquet dinners in the cart madly then he let his mutter do the rest of the shopping; she put several things of fish, some more banquet dinners, a few things of frozen vegetables, then some ice cream in the cart before turning to look at him. He took the hint with that one look. He picked out two other things of ice cream, then some ice pops, before stepping back. Their shopping came to a close after she placed three rolls of sausages, two things of link sausage, two things of Bratwurst, then six things of spiral sliced ham steaks in their cart. The gallon of milk that his mum put in the cart was swiftly returned after she saw that Lhaklar and Hazaar had one in their cart.

His bruders were pushing their carts up to the check-out counter at the same time that they were—in order to make the check-out traffic flow a little easier, they decided to let their mum and he go through first; it was mutually decided that Bile and Hazaar would follow behind them. Lhaklar and Lazeer decided to take their cart through the check-out last.

Angel gave Bile and then Lhaklar some money for the food that they had in their carts then she pushed her and Guyunis's cart through the check-out; while she did try to go through the line fast, she was slowed up by the girl that was at the register. The girl that was at the register pestered her with questions while she ran the items over the check-out's scanner; the food that was in Angel and Guyunis's cart cost a total of €279.76. Angel paid for it then went to help Guyunis with the bagging. Bile and Hazaar's trip through the check-out was much smoother; the cashier had either had her fill of talking or she just had no interest in speaking to them. Since they had mostly fruit and vegetables in their cart, their grocery bill was less expensive. They were charged just €67.45.

Bile and his brothers grew somewhat annoyed with Lhaklar—instead of going through the line fast, Lhaklar held the line up to flirt with the girl that was manning the register. All while Lhaklar was flirting, Lazeer placed the items that were in the cart on the check-out's belt. He also bagged the food after it was run through the check-out's scanner. The food that was in Lhaklar and Lazeer's cart rang up at €167.90; it was only when Angel told her son to quit it with the flirting that he paid for the food. Lhaklar, his cheeks having turned a shade of dark green from embarrassment, pushed his and Lazeer's cart forward after paying for the food. The trip cost their mother a grand total of €515.11; with the food purchased and bagged, she led her family out of the store. When they reached the Porsche D2's parking place, Angel instructed her boys to put the bagged food on the ground beside the car. After flipping the ground after all of the bags were on it, she said that she'd flip a portion of the driveway to make the food reappear after they got home.

"Ma is smart—she knew long before we left that store that we'd not all fit in this car with all them groceries being in here." Bile said.

"Might have if one or two of my boys had climbed up on the roof of the car." Angel said.

"Car surfing-k—nex-k-t time we do group shopping-k, I call dibs on the roof of the car." Guyunis said. The energy that was coming off of him was very high. He was very energetic.

"I bet you'll be doing more than just car surfing if you ever get the chance to surf the roof of this car," Bile said. "You'll probably be yelling or screaming at the top of your lungs at the passing motorists."

"Dude! I'm going-k to be like the fri-k-ggin' Moonville Ghost up there—the humans will be doing-k double checks as mum drives by." Guyunis said happily. He then began to imitate the screaming sounds that the white-dressed female ghost that reportedly roamed the Moonville Tunnel, that was located in southwestern Brown Township, that was in Vinton County, Ohio, made. Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer burst out laughing at once.

"Momma, can you roll the windows down please?" Hazaar asked after he and his brothers had calmed down. "Although I like the car, I don't much like the new car smell that's in here. It's right suffocating, y'know."

Although she was completely compliant of doing this—even that new car smell had gotten to her; it was starting to give her a major headache—, Angel found herself having to roll the windows down for another reason. Just as she was reaching down to press the automatic window down button that was on the driver's side door, a low-sounding fart was heard. Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar went crazy in the back while Guyunis pulled himself away from Lazeer. Guyunis and Lazeer tried to pin the blame of the fart on one another as their mother shook her head. As soon as the car's windows were rolled down, there was another ripper of a fart released. Unlike the last time, where the culprit wasn't found, the culprit was quickly discovered. Angel told Guyunis to quit it then drove on in silence. Lhaklar rubbed his temple while Bile looked out the window. Hazaar wished that he was next to the window—he'd of stuck his head out of the car if he had been. Guyunis pleaded his innocence twice then apologized before going quiet; he didn't let off anymore farts. Although it only took them fifteen minutes to get back to the house that Mr. Leinart had bought for them, it felt more like an hour to all of them. The entire trip had taken all of an hour and twenty minutes.

When Angel pulled into her and her sons' house's driveway, she wasted no time in getting the car under the carport. Her sons piled out of the car as fast as they could after the car was parked. Angel walked around to the back of her car then stopped; she jabbed her arms down then threw them to the side. A square portion of the driveway that was behind her car flipped over; all of the groceries that she and her sons had paid for were now sitting in front of her.

"There's a lot of bags here, boys. Help me get them into the house." Angel said.

Mitzi Klied, who had just gotten out of her red Mitsubishi Tr-12, stopped at once after seeing the activity that was going on outside the Kaufer's old place. She had just gotten off work after having to pull in nearly two hours over what her normal eight hour shift was; she was tired but she was alert and this alertness was making her wonder what her new neighbors were doing. Before the thought of her new neighbors going out to do a little grocery shopping came to her, she sat and watched as the family went into the house. Lhaklar went in first; he had four bags with him that looked rather full. Bile went in next; he had five bags with him that also looked rather full. Hazaar was a half step behind Bile; she saw that he had three bags with him. When Lazeer went into the house, he had four bags with him. The dark-skinned kid that Miss. Irene had introduced as Guyunis the night before, when she and her two daughters went over to say hello, went in last. He had six bags with him. Just as the thought of her neighbors going out to do some grocery shopping began to process itself in her brain, her keen eyes focused on the little slogan's that were on the sides of the bags that Guyunis was carrying—all six bags had the local food mart, Aldi Market, slogan on them.

Mitzi shook her head then stood up; she was glad to see that Miss. Irene's sons weren't slackers. She was also glad that her new neighbors had gone out to do a little shopping for the house's pantry. When she, Kurt, and Petra moved into their house they had to live out of a cooler for two weeks; no one had lifted a finger to help them in getting their stove, or their washer/dry combo, or even their refrigerator, from their old residence. They were forced to ask a church for assistance in getting them items moved from their old residence. Living in a cooler was expensive! She and her husband had sort of severed ties with their families afterwards. No one in their family had helped even though they had asked. They had even pleaded with their family's for help when they moved—instead of getting blood-related help, they received no help. Kurt's siblings, and his one uncle, had come up with some silly excuse when he asked them for help; her sister, and her one aunt and uncle, had refused to pick up the phone when she called them and both her and Kurt's folks had given them false promises. No suggestions were given. Their families had abandoned them; that was angering and hurtful.

Mitzi went up the walk that was on her property; she went up her house's porch steps then turned to look at the old Kaufer house. Bile had just come out for the last four bags that were on the ground behind the family's car. Mitzi gave a little wave in his direction, which he returned. She went to her house's front door afterwards. Bile was grabbing the last four bags up from the ground at the same time that she was letting herself into her home.

"Thank you, boys. Now, you can either help me in getting all of this put in the cabinets, and in the fridge, or you can head upstairs to fix up your rooms. Your choice." Angel said after the food was brought in.

"Think I'll stay and help you out some." Lhaklar said. He started taking things from the bags.

"Me too." Guyunis said.

Bile, Hazaar, and Lazeer said they wanted to get back to taking care of their rooms; Angel wished them luck in doing that. Guyunis and Lhaklar emptied each plastic and paper bag of the food that was in them then they put the bags away. Lhaklar placed the paper bags in one of the lower cabinets; when Guyunis asked him why he was keeping the bags instead of trashing them, Lhaklar said that, while plastic trash bags were good to use in trash cans, it was best to keep a paper bag in them so the trash bag wouldn't get holes or rips in it. Guyunis nodded his head then crumpled all but one of the plastic bags; he put all of the crumpled plastic bags in the un-crumpled bag then he put them in the same cabinet that Lhaklar had put the paper bags in. When Lhaklar asked him why he was putting the plastic bags in the cabinet instead of trashing them, he said that they could be used when it came time to getting rid of spoiled or leftover food that was kept in the fridge for too long. Angel smiled at her two boys; both had said very smart things about the paper and plastic bags. She started filling the cabinets up while Lhaklar took care of organizing the food that was to be put in the refrigerator.

Angel shoved the canned potatoes as far back as she could into the cabinet that was farthest from the fridge then she put a row of green beans—both the French-cut and the normal—in front of them. A row each of Peas, baked beans, and then tomato sauce followed; she finished that cabinet off by putting a row of canned soups in front of the tomato sauce. She started filling the next cabinet after the first one was full. She made a short row with the other canned soups that she wasn't able to fit into the other cabinet then she put a row of canned fruit next to that before putting a row of the boxed foods in next. When she was done filling that cabinet up, she went on to the next one which, she decided, would house all of the bagged snack foods. She stored bags of BBQ Chips, regular Lays Potato chips, ruffled Potato chips, and then the Sour Cream and Chives Chips in the cabinet in a neat line then she placed the bags of Doritos, Cheetos, and then the bag that contained three containers of Pringles in front of them; when that cabinet was full, she moved on to the next one which, she decided, would have just cereal in it. By the time she was done with the cabinets, the fridge was full to capacity. Nothing else would fit in it; Lhaklar had to take some of the cakes out just to fit in all that she and they had bought. Angel placed the fridge-evicted cakes on the counter then stepped back.

"You two have done a marvelous job," Angel said to her sons after everything was put away. "Thank you. You two best head on up now—do something with your rooms. I'll be heading out in a few minutes. If you boys wish to head out on the town you can."

"Don't you think it's a little early for going out on the town, mom?" Lhaklar asked.

"No, you five need to get to know the area and the only way for you to do that is to go out in it. Either you'll go out on your own or you'll go out after I've given you the boot." Angel said, she then looked at Guyunis. "That includes you. You're heading out on the town as well. Have a little fun, make some friends. Get into some trouble."

"Okay, mum." Guyunis said.

"You should really loosen the chain that's around your neck, G. Seems to me that you've always got it wrapped around your neck so tightly—I worry that you'll choke on it." Angel said. She walked over to Guyunis then gently loosened the chain that was wrapped around his neck. After the chain was loosened, she walked over to the counter bar.

Stefan was rather firm on her yesterday—he had really wanted her to look through the catalog and then pick things out for her and her sons' home. She had done so... with quite a lot of reluctance, of course; she hadn't liked the idea of the man spending his hard-earned money on her and her family. She had kept her catalog browsing and shopping basic for the dining room; the dark brown, rustic oak table, that was sitting in the center of the room, was big enough to fit six persons comfortably. The six chairs, that were around the table, matched it almost perfectly. The only other kitchen-or-dining-room-type thing that she saw and then circled in the catalog that she was given was the mahogany china cabinet that had a bowed front; the movers had handled that piece of furniture rather delicately when they brought it in. It was directly across from the dining room table and chairs. That was all that she saw and then asked for for that room—Stefan was pretty frustrated with her wanting to keep her catalog shopping basic; despite his frustration, he hadn't pressed her to ask for more stuff for the house's dining room.

Lhaklar and Guyunis went upstairs; she went over to the china cabinet, where she retrieved a piece of paper and a pencil. She took a seat at the dining room table then started making a list of all the things that she and her sons needed in the house.

The first thing that she wrote on the piece of paper was _microwave_ —just about every family had one and, since there was a need for one, and since she and her sons had used a microwave in their old apartment, she made a note about getting one. The second thing that she put on the list was _coffee maker_ or _pot_ —she drank a lot of coffee and she knew that her biological sons also drank the stuff; they would need one of them devices in the house too. They hadn't had a blender when they were living in Green River, Wyoming; she added that to the list—that piece of machinery would come in handy when it came to making smoothies or milkshakes or any other beverage and her biological sons did like to consume smoothies and milkshakes during the spring and summer seasons. Her biological sons had actually been begging her to get one of the machines when they were living in Wyoming—she figured that it was finally time to get one for them.

Pots and pans were a must; she and her sons couldn't cook without them. Plates and bowls and cups were also a must; she and her sons couldn't eat or drink without having them. Tupperware containers were also a must; the leftover food had to be put somewhere... it couldn't just be left out in the open and it couldn't just be put in the fridge on a plate. Silverware and cookware utensils were also needed; she and her sons had to have something to eat with and cook with. They couldn't eat everything with just their hands and there was no way they could cook without having the necessary cooking utensils like a spatula or a ladle. A broom and a mop were needed for the messes that would happen in the kitchen and dining room; a vacuum was also needed. She added a note about a carpet cleaner then she added a question mark beside it before adding towels, dish rags, light bulbs, and batteries for the battery operated things that she was sure they'd have at one time or another. There was also her bedding and pillows and the pillow cases for her pillows that she needed to get.

She'd let her boys do their own shopping for their bedding, pillows and pillow cases, and the other stuff that they wanted in their rooms—she didn't want to mom-bomb on their style by getting them something that was ridiculous or that wasn't their style. The last thing that she added to her list was a can opener—although they could get by by using a P-38, she figured that a can opener was also a good thing to have in the house. She figured that this next trip was going to cost her a good thousand euros so she went down to the basement, which was still pretty bare except for the washer and dryer. Once in the basement, she made a small square of the concrete floor flip over; she bent down after this was done.

Shortly after they went to bed last night, she made a trip down to the basement to hide the envelope that contained the money that Stefan had given her. She had used one of her powers to hide the cash-filled envelope under the floor—since she and her sons were the only ones in the area that wielded magical powers, the money was safe; no one but they could get to it.

She took €1,100 out of the envelope then placed it back down the concrete floor; before leaving the basement, she flipped the portion of the floor that the envelope was on over.

"Bile, Hazaar, Lazeer... I'm heading out for a bit—you three behave yourselves." Angel called up; while Lhaklar and Guyunis knew that she was going out, Bile, Hazaar, and Lazeer didn't. With this being a new and foreign neighborhood, and with her and her family being newbies to the village and to Germany, she didn't want any of her sons freaking out over not knowing where she was.

For a fleeting second, he contemplated going down to see if he could join his mum on her second planned outing of the day. After thinking it over, and after seeing all the work that was still yet to be done in his bedroom, he decided to stay where he was—he was quite sure that he'd see her again soon.

The house around him grew very quiet after she left; he stood in the center of his bedroom nervously for a few seconds before going towards the bed that the human who had the surname of Leinart had gotten for him—it was the exact same one that he saw in the catalog that he was given. The human had really gone out of his way for his family; he was quite impressed. The jean bag that, prior to his leaving the Meyer's attic and home, had once belonged to one of the Meyer's children was lying nearly flat and empty on his bed; the three pairs of pants, that had some degree of rip or tear in their legs, and that went down to just below his knees, were placed in one of his Reclaimed Barnwood dresser drawers the night before. His holey socks had also been given a home in the Reclaimed Barnwood dresser. Before going to bed last night, he placed all of his magazines on one of the Shiro shelf's shelves.

There were only three things in the bag now; one was a rather old, portable CD player, that the humans had once used in the late-1990's to the early 2000's—he had come upon it one day when he was taking the trash out. Justin Meyer, one of Lenora and Mathis Meyer Jr.'s sons, had tossed it after it stopped working. He had fished it out of the trash then, during his containment periods in the Meyer's attic, he had worked on it. The pair of wireless headphones had also been found in the Meyer's trash; one of the Meyer's daughters had decided that her old pair of headphones wasn't up to par with her friends' headphones. She had trashed them in an attempt to get her parents to get her the newer model headphones. There was nothing wrong with the trashed headphones that he took from the Meyer's trash; they were well-worn but their wires and speakers were fine. The small, AM/PM radio, that was also in his bag, wasn't found in the trash; Mathis Meyer Jr. had come home with the piece... he had simply thrown it at him. Except for the fact that the radio was a little old, it worked fine. He had no explanation as to why Mathis had thrown it at him or had gotten rid of it. The AM/PM radio that was in his bag had a temperature reader on it and it also had a cassette player built into it; he had listened to it during his locked-up hours in the Meyer's attic.

He went the to his bed then he removed them three items from his bag—the AM/PM radio was placed on the middle gray mantle shelf, which was nailed on the wall that was to the right of his bedroom door by one of the human movers; the CD player, and its wireless headphones, were placed on the mantle shelf that was underneath the one that the radio was placed on. He went back to his bed after doing them two things; the jean bag was picked up and then folded. He took that to his dresser—which was placed against the left side of the front-facing bedroom wall that faced the foot of his bed; a 30", flat screen tv was mounted on the wall over the dresser. While he had asked for the dresser he hadn't asked for the tv. He wasn't very sure about having a tv in his room yet—he had yet to try it to see if it worked. He placed his bag in one of the drawers of his dresser then he turned his attention towards the rolled up white sheet and rug.

The sheet, that he used as a sort of extra bag the last few months, was hanging on some lady's clothes line last year, at around the time where he hadn't had a family. Since he was in need of something as a makeshift tent, he took it. The sheet had too many holes and tears in it to be used as a normal bed-sheet now; he was probably going to toss it in the trash soon. The rolled up rug, that was sticking out from under his bed, was just something that he found in one of the Colorado dumps that he and his bruders had visited—it was one of them contemporary area rugs; it had Tibetan floral designs on it and it was mostly brown and tan in color. After finding it, he took it back to the cave that he and his family were staying in. It was cleaned real well before being rolled up.

He unrolled the sheet that was on his bed then he sat down; he removed his boots quickly then he reached over for one of the nails that was in the box that was on the Mango wood bedside cabinet—which was placed beside his bed. With his boots off, and with a nail in-hand, he stood up; he climbed onto his bed then he took two steps towards the wall that his bed was shoved against. The nail was pushed into the wall slowly; with the nail in place, he turned to retrieve the Wild Boar skull that he wanted to display in his room. The trophy that he had in his hands was from one of the hunts that he did before his new mum came to claim him as her son; catching the animal wasn't easy... Despite being injured by the beast, he was able to nab it before it could get away. He hung the Boar's skull on the nail then he grabbed another nail from his bedside cabinet; after doing a quick measurement of ten inches, he pushed the nail into the wall. He hung the Moose rack on the nail then leaned back

"The Mule Deer rack should be placed on the other side of the Boar's skull," he thought. He grabbed and then pushed another nail into the wall that was on the left side of the Wild Boar skull; the Mule Deer rack was hung on it afterwards.

He nodded his head after them three items were on the wall then he dropped to all fours. He had already decided the night before that the Mountain Lion pelt would be placed across the foot of his bed; he wanted the Lynx's pelt either tacked or taped to his room's closet door. He grabbed the Lynx pelt, which was folded and then bound by a piece of electrical cord, then he got up from his bed. He did his best with putting the pelt on his closet door—the tacks didn't want to go into the door; since he didn't want to damage the door by putting a nail or a screw in it, he just taped the pelt on. When the pelt fell from the door a few minutes later, he grew frustrated. He collected and then folded the pelt then he made a mental note to ask his mutter if she knew of anything that he could use to keep it on the door.

He grabbed the short-haired cow Elk hide—the trophy from the first safe hunt that he did; instead of ambushing the Elk from below it, like he did in his other hunts, he threw a Ground Spear that he created with his Elemental powers at it—from his bed next. That was placed over the top of his dresser. The five Fox tails that he grabbed next were more trophies from more safely done hunts; he hung them on the wall that the head of his bed was placed against. The first tail that he hung on the wall was gray in color. It had a rusty undertone to it; its tip was black. At one time, it belonged to a Kit fox. The next tail that he hung on the wall was a grayish-tan color; like the Kit fox tail, its tip was black—this tail had come from a Swift fox, not a Kit fox, though. The next two tails that he hung on the wall were red; one had a black undertone to it while the other was fully red, they both had white tips. These had come from Red foxes. The last tail that he hung on the wall was pure white; he had found and then hunted a pure white Red fox just before they moved from Colorado to Africa. His hunt of the Wild Boar had happened in Germany almost a year ago; all of the other trophies that he put up in his room had come from the hunts that he did in Colorado.

With the larger of his hunting trophies up and out of the way, he turned his attention towards the smaller items that he had yet to put up. The smaller items that were on the white sheet were either from the smaller game animals that he had hunted or from general collecting; he picked the Desert cottontail skull up from his bed then walked it over to his Shiro shelf—which was on the right side of his bedroom, to the left of his closet door. He placed the small skull on the Shiro shelf's second shelf then he went back to his bed. The Desert Cottontail skull was more of a find rather than a keepsie from a hunt; he had come by it one day when he was walking around the first cave that he and his family had resided in. The Beaver skull that he was now picking up had come from a nearly unsuccessful hunt; he had stalked that damn Beaver for nearly two hours... he had leaped out from his hiding place after them two hours had passed. He had just grown tired of stalking the thing. After giving it a good chase, he caught it... after it got itself tangled in a bush that was near its lake-home, that was. He placed the Beaver skull on the same shelf that the Desert Cottontail skull was on then he went back to his bed.

The Pronghorn Antelope hoof that he was picking up was found from yet another walk that he did when he and his family were living in Colorado; the Zebra hooves that he was scooping up had come from a lion kill that he came upon one day when he was walking about the area where the Ogbunike caves were located at. He placed the hooves on the shelf that was underneath the one that had the Cottontail and Beaver skulls on it then he went back to his bed; the Lion skull, which, at one time, had belonged to a female Egyptian lion, was the last thing that he put on his Shiro shelf. The lion, as far as he could tell, was a right old one. She was injured right badly on the left foreleg; despite her age and the injury, the lion was a hard one to take down—she was damn fast... he hadn't counted on how fast she'd be, which was a lot of the reason for why he returned to his mum with his arm all bloody and torn up and with his leg bitten in three places. His mum did more than a little screaming on that day... She fussed over him, then she chided him, then she fussed over him again. He placed the lion skull on the top shelf of his Shiro shelf; he took a step back afterwards.

"Looks as right as it can, I guess." he thought.

After returning to his bed, he sat down; he grew a bit sad as he took his room in. The only thing that was on the Mango wood bedside cabinet was the Nuke-shaped lamp; even though the piece wasn't plugged in, he still thought it was cool. The Rusty Brown Icelandic Sheepskin rug, that he also saw and marked in the catalog that the Leinart-fellow had given him yesterday, was in front of his Shiro shelf. The Wild Mannered Luxury Long Faux Fur rug, that was 3'4" x 4'10" long, was placed beside his bed; his feet were resting on it at the moment. The Reindeer Fur Rug was in front of his bed; it was twice moved now—he wasn't sure if it was going to stay where it was or not yet. Although his room was starting to get that lived-in feeling, he felt that there were some things missing and he still felt like having this room all to himself wasn't real. He had never had things of his own like this; he had never had the pleasure of having a dresser or shelves or ever a new bed before. He did have to agree, though, that having a room all to himself was far better than being imprisoned in an attic or basement.

He reached his hand up; he fingered the links of the chain that was around his neck for a bit before dropping his hand. He wasn't stupid by any means—he knew that he'd probably be wearing the chains that had once bound him to Lenora and Mathis Meyer Jr.'s attic for a while longer. The chains were a sort of remembrance thing—they reminded him of his past, and of his former captivity; he had tried to remove them a few times in the past six months—he hadn't come close to doing so. He had a feeling that his new mum understood this; while she asked him to loosen them, so he could breathe, or not choke, a few times she hadn't told him to get rid of them. His new bruders had also not told him to remove the chains; they had simply said that they were cool. After a few minutes of just sitting on his bed he stood up; after standing, he turned slightly then lifted his mattress up some. The brown envelope, that all of his adoption records were in, was swiftly removed from under the mattress. After the envelope was in his hand, he placed the mattress down then resumed his seat on the bed.

He opened the envelope slowly then reached in. The paperwork was taken out; he started looking at each piece of paper with intense scrutiny.

These papers—records—were rather important and he was keeping them close. His new mum had made a copy of each of the papers that were in the envelope right after she looked at and then signed them on January 28; instead of keeping the originals, she kept the copies—she wanted him to be the decider on his life and future with her and her family. If he felt in any way unhappy with them, he was to tear the forms up. He had no intention of doing such a thing. He was very happy with having them as his family and, from what he could tell, they were very happy with having him being apart of their family.

His mum had sure scared a few years off him a few days after she signed these—he was aroused from a sound sleep and then asked for his copy of his records; he had lain awake for hours after she said she was going to see Lenora and Mathis Meyer Jr. Apparently, his records had needed his former mum and dat's signatures on them—for his new adoption to be finalized, Lenora and Mathis Meyer Jr. had needed to sign all of their responsibilities and parental rights over to his new mum. He handed his records over then he watched his new mum teleport—he did nothing more than stare at the sky afterwards. When his new mum returned two hours later, she was unsettled. He had thought that Lenora and Mathis Meyer Jr. had refused to sign him over, which had made him feel both depressed and angry at the same time.

"Hey, what's wrong Mr. G?" his mum said a few minutes after she returned from visiting Lenora and Mathis Meyer Jr.

"Th-th-they didn't sign me over, did they?" he asked. He was near to tears then and she knew this. She had comforted him; had given him a few pats on the back, and a few hugs and kisses. He wasn't comforted at all; he had seen her comforting him as a way of saying goodbye. That had made him feel even more depressed.

"G... G, I want you to calm down now." his mum said five minutes after she started comforting him. "Nothing's changed. You're still my son."

Lenora and Mathis's signatures were shown before the explanation on why she came back so unsettled was given—from what his mum had told him, both of his former "parents" had wanted to keep him; a minor fight had happened between the three. Lenora and Mathis had come right out in saying that they wanted to keep their "servant" or child-slave. The two had shown their true colors. They had come right out in saying that they wanted someone to be the unpaid housekeeper; they had wanted someone to do their dishes, and their carpets. They had wanted someone to clean their five cats' litter boxes and they had wanted someone to pick their two dogs' messes up from the yard and they had wanted someone to mow and tend the yard—both the front and back; he had never been allowed to do the yard work during the day—and they had also wanted someone to fix the problems in the house for free. They had not wanted him to be in with their family—they had just wanted to retain their parental rights of him to have him remain being their non-paid house-keeper. His new mum had said that she had threatened to turn them into both the adoption agency that handled his adoptions and child protective services if they didn't sign the papers; that had rattled some of their nerves. They signed the forms then they told her to get out and never come back, which she did. He was hers now. He was the son of Angel Irene now; the Meyer family couldn't claim him as theirs anymore. He didn't have to worry about them anymore.

Name of Child: GuyunisVile Lytro Surfeit  
Time of Birth: ?  
Date of Birth: 27 June 2000  
Mother's Name: Lisa Ann Wahlberg  
Father's Name: ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit  
Mother's Age Upon Birth of Child: 29 Yrs  
Father's Age Upon Birth of Child: 298,112 Yrs

That was what the form, that he had in his hand, said; he remembered saying something on how old his fader was when he coupled with his mum—his new mum had agreed with him. Of all the forms that he had on himself, it was this one that he had looked at the most. The questions that started running themselves through his head six months ago were still as strong as ever and he still had no answers to them.

He knew that his birth-mutter, Lisa Ann Wahlberg, had gone to several abortion clinics in the eight months that she was pregnant with him; according to his new mum, his birth-mutter had fully intended to get rid of him before he could even be born. His new mum had also said that his birth-mutter had left each of the abortion clinics that she went to before the doctor could come in to call her in for the procedure to be done. Why did she do that? Why did she got to and then leave all of them medical facilities and why did she decide against having an abortion at the last minute all of them times that she went to get him expelled from her womb?

He was told nothing on his fader; all he had was the name that was on the form that he was looking at. ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, who was he? Did ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit look like him; had he inherited his midnight black skin from his fader? His mutter, he was told, had a medium complexion, black hair, and very green eyes; it seemed that the only thing that he had inherited from her was his hair. Why had his birth-mutter wanted to get rid of him? Why had she not had the want to have him in her life? What had he done to not be accepted by her? Had his fader done something to make her hate him or had she been one of them whores that just had sex without worry of the consequences? Did his fader know of his existence?

"She knows him," he thought. "My new mum knows who this ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit is. She had no problem writing his name down on this form."

Would she tell him one day about his fader or would she act like his birth parents had vanished into thin air—that was another question that he wished he had an answer to; he had yet to ask his new mum about his roots and he was sort of scared to ask her about his side of the family. He flipped the lineage page over then he looked at the certificate that congratulated the new parents on their adoption of their new daughter/son—it was a rather thick piece of paper! It had a false-gold embroidered border and a red ribbon glued underneath the three signatures and the adoption agency's name. The certificate had his new mum's name on it and it also had his name on it. He ran his hand over the certificate; like the other forms that he had, it was the original one—his new mum had a copy it. While all of his paperwork was special, he viewed this certificate as the most special thing he possessed—the energy that was around it was clear and wonderful and it had a surreal feeling to it that was—

"Hey..."

Guyunis jumped then looked up. He blinked his glowing yellow, scalene triangular-shaped eyes when Bile walked into the room.

"Bile?" he said. He placed the forms, and the adoption certificate, on the bed then stood up.

"We're all about to head out. If you want to join us, you can." Bile said.

"We're?" Guyunis asked stupidly.

"Yeah. Me, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer."

"Where you four going-k?"

"We're not sure yet." Bile replied honestly. "Lhaklar and I are mainly going out to check the town, and get our usual magazines, and I'm also planning on getting some stuff for my bed. I'm not sure what the scrubs—meaning our younger brothers—are planning to do."

" _If you boys wish to head out on the town you can_." he suddenly heard what his mum had said to him and Lhaklar earlier, after they helped in putting the groceries away, loud and clear. He blinked his eyes then turned back towards his bed. He picked each of his adoption forms, and then the adoption certificate, up then he slid them back in the brown envelope; instead of putting the envelope back under his mattress, he put it in one of his vacant dresser drawers. When he was done, he turned back towards Bile. "Guess I'll go—mum would wan-k-t me to... right? She would, right?"

"She would, yes. Ma's a good ma, she wouldn't send us out anywhere unless she knew we were safe."

"Are we?"

"Yes."

He looked at Bile for only a second before turning to grab his boots. He tugged his boots on, then tied the laces tightly, then stepped forward; Bile turned then walked out of his bedroom, he followed behind him silently. When they began their descent down the stairs, they saw that Lhaklar was standing at the bottom of them; the wallet that was in his bruder's hands was the same one that he had snatched six months earlier in an attempt to get his attention—it was made of a thick, brown leather material, and the stitching that was on its outer edges was red. When Bile tried to walk by, Lhaklar held his arm out to stop him. Lhaklar pulled a green euro note out from his wallet—sometime during the nighttime hours, he and everyone else in the family had converted all of their cash to euros—, then he shoved it into Bile's hand. He was given a green euro note next. After the money was distributed, Lhaklar folded and then put his wallet away.

"You sure, man?" Bile asked a few seconds later. "This is your money, you know. You worked your ass off for it. Literally."

"If you're going out to get anything for your room, you'll need some money." Lhaklar replied.

"Want it returned at some time?"

"No, no returns needed."

"Where'd you come by this money anyways, bro?" Guyunis asked. He did a little snooping after doing the spell that made some of his brothers' things appear with him. He was shocked after seeing how much money Lhaklar's wallet had in it and he was also shocked over seeing the wallet-sized photograph of Marilyn Monroe, from the first edition of Playboy, in it too.

"From dancing my ass off," Lhaklar replied. "I use to work in a strip club ten months ago—both mom and I were doing our best to come up with the dough for Lazeer's goggled glass. She worked in the deli department of a Food Lion ten months ago."

"Y-you stripped?" Guyunis asked in shock. "Or are you trying-k to pull my leg?"

"I stripped. It's a fun job. Liked it a lot, and it paid real good. Came home with over three hundred on me sometimes."

"I'll never see you the same way again." Guyunis said.

"It's a family secret—ma didn't know about it, and she still doesn't know about it." Bile said. "Only I, Hazaar, and Lazeer know about it."

"Suppose you wan-k-t me to keep what you just t-k-old me under the hat as well?"

"Course," Bile said. He then got an evil look on his face. "Or else, we dunk your head in the toilet. A wedgie and a swirlie at the same time."

"Whatever you say to me that you wan-k-t to be kept from mum I'll keep to myself." Guyunis said. He crossed his hand over his chest to emphasize his promise.

Hazaar and Lazeer had already shoved off so it was just he, Bile, and Lhaklar that remained in the house. They checked to see if all of the house's windows and doors were locked then teleported—Bile had a black implosion effect to his post-teleportion that he thought was wicked cool while Lhaklar had a swirl-like, cloud effect to his post-teleportation that he thought was strange and childish; while Lhaklar was cool in his own right, he did think he was lower than Bile on the "cool scale". The post-teleportation effect, that his bruder had picked out when he was a student at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, made him drop a little on the "cool scale" for him.

A Guyunis-sized explosion of white smoke was left in his wake after he teleported from the house; like with Bile and Lhaklar, he had picked the effect out while being a student at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. The white smoke dissipated a few seconds after he teleported; the house's fire alarms never picked it up.

After appearing in the center of the town part of the village of Elchesheim-Illingen, they started walking down the sidewalk; they wasted no time in going into the first magazine store that they came upon. A few minutes after going into the store, they left it—all of their August editions were purchased while they were in it. The next store that they went in sold cigarettes; except for Bile, they bought four packs of their brands of cigarettes then left. Seeing as their monthly interests—their magazines and smokes—were dealt with, they decided to head off towards the structure that was to the far left side of the town. The structure that they were walking towards was a big one; it looked like a mall. As they drew closer to it, they saw that it had many wings on it. The roof was flat. Bile decided to go somewhere else before they reached the building; he separated from them, saying that he had something else in mind to check out and do. He said he'd catch up with them later then wished them luck.

The building that they walked into was humongous on the inside. It had every damn store imaginable in it—he couldn't help but stop after going in. He took the building's interior in through wide, shocked eyes for a few seconds then walked on; Lhaklar, he had noticed, had left him at the building's entrance. Lhaklar seemed unscathed by the building's interior. There was a pair of escalators, that spiraled up to the building's second floor, in front of them; Galileo blue floor tiles were under their feet; the walls around them, and the ceiling above them, matched the color of the tiles perfectly.

The building, from the outside, had looked to be one of them one-story types; there were three floors in it and it looked like they had many stores on them. Lhaklar walked on before stopping and then turning around after reaching the escalators; since he was trying to take everything in at once, he walked right into him.

"Welcome to civilized living, Guyunis. Be wise and walk with your eyes facing forwards otherwise you might wind up in a fight with some thug who took your walking into him wrongly." Lhaklar said, Guyunis detected an excited tone in his voice.

"This place is huge!" Guyunis exclaimed in as low of a voice as he could manage. "Is this a mall? Are all malls like this? Are all—"

"This isn't a mall—this is one of them community centers that has many small and big retail and department stores in it." Lhaklar said. "A mall would be bigger than this, and you'd see more stores and there'd be carts and stands set-up all over the place—at every corner, in the center of the floors... even in front of the stores!"

"There are places big-k-ger than this one!"

"Yep," Lhaklar said. The corners of his O-shaped mouth went up as he smiled. "Think you can handle yourself for a while? While I don't mind having you tag along with me, I do need my alone time."

He thought the question over for a short minute and a half then nodded his head; while he was overwhelmed by the building's size, he did feel that he could handle himself in it. Lhaklar stepped onto the escalator, which took him up to the second floor of the building. He disappeared after stepping off a few seconds later. There was a map pillar near the escalator, he went to it. After reaching the pillar, he looked at the stores that were on the building's first floor.

From what he was seeing, there were over a hundred stores in the building; there were restaurants, and clothing and shoe stores... there were also several areas set-up for the kids. From what he could tell, there were four or five indoor playgrounds in the building. He was particularly surprised over how many department stores there were in the building—the map pillar claimed that there were thirty in the building; it also claimed that they were all pretty big is size. He shook his head then reached forward; he grabbed one of the maps that were in slot that was in the pillar then moved off.

The first store that he went into was called Cra-Aiii-Zee—the only reason why he went in was because of the store's front window display, which had several things in it that he thought were cool. The store turned out to be one of them retail outlets that sold all sorts of weird, cool, wicked, and insane merchandise; he found something to buy soon after entering it—a wall poster that had an evil-looking black cat on it. The cat was walking down a flaming, cobbled walkway; its mouth was open in a snarl, and its ears were laid nearly against its head. Its eyes resembled his own. The bin that he found the evil-looking cat poster in also had a poster of a flaming motorcycle in it; he snatched that up quickly then something else caught his attention. The only other item that was in the store that he liked and decided to buy was a fully completed model of a Harley Davidson FLHTCUI that had a blood-covered vampire driver on it. He bought them items then left the store; the next store that he went into had nothing but model kits in it. He spent €30 on a model kit of a Honda CB400, a Yamaha XV 1600, and a Honda Goldwing GL1000 then he went to a different store that was nearby. He bought the August editions of Motorcycle and Classic Bike from the third store that he visited then he decided to stop splurging. After purchasing the two magazines, he set himself down to looking for a store that sold bedding... which wasn't a very hard thing to find, considering the place he was in. While finding a store that sold bedding wasn't hard, finding bedding that he liked was—he didn't want a single-colored bed set and he didn't want anything girlie either; he wanted something that was cool and that was his style.

He visited three of the community center's department stores before finding what he was looking for—the bed set that he bought had a dark gray fitted sheet and flat sheet, two pillow cases, and a comforter in it; all of the items had light gray, Octopus tentacle designs on them. He bought two rectangular pillows for his bed then he bought a fleece blanket to go with his the set—such an item wasn't included in the set; he found that rather odd. He left the store that he bought his bedding and pillows from then went around a corner; after doing a quick count on how many bags he had on his person, he said the spell that sent all of his purchases home. He walked on after the bags disappeared from his hands; since he had some money left over, he decided to not head home right away. The idea of buying one or two or maybe even three small things for his Shiro shelf came to him after he sent his bags home.

"G?" Hazaar said after walking into a store called Der Neuheit. The store was a small one; it sold all sorts of crazy and insane novelty things. Guyunis was the only reason for why he had walked into the store; while seeing him in the store was a surprise, seeing that he was alone was alarming. Hazaar had several bags in his hands; the base color of the bed set, that he found in one of the community center's department stores, was dark blue while the comforter, the four pillow cases, and the fitted and flat sheets had white and yellow lightning bolts on them. He did his monthly magazine shopping in the center, Lazeer was with him at the time. Lazeer and he went their separate ways afterwards. Guyunis turned to look at him after hearing his nickname being called. He looked at his younger brother before walking over to him. "You alone or—"

"Yeah, Lhaklar went off on his own and Bile wen-k-t off to find some smoke... I think." Guyunis replied.

"Mom'll probably flip her lid when she finds out that they left you alone." Hazaar said. He felt a trifle bit angry at Guyunis's being left to walk about the community center alone. "You okay? Nothing's spooked you or anything?"

"No, act-k-ually haven't had any freak out momen-k-ts." Guyunis replied. "Been here for an hour now. Think I'm about to finish up here."

"Looks like you've done some shopping for yourself, Guy." Hazaar said. Guyunis had two or three bags in one of his hands. "Get everything you liked, or have you had to skip out on a few things?"

"Near done ou-k-t in cash," Guyunis said. "Yeah, bought everything-k that I liked. You?"

"Almost, only thing that I haven't been able to buy are some smokes." Hazaar said. "You have to be at least eighteen to buy cigarettes—the humans don't really take in my real age when it comes to cigarettes. They sell them to Bile and Lhaklar but they refuse for me and Lazeer. Ten months ago, I had a human that did that for me—I slid the guy some money then he went and bought what I asked him to get for me."

"I bough-k-t some Gold Flake and HB cigarettes earlier, they had no problem with selling-k to me." Guyunis said.

"Course not—you have a mature-looking body while I and Lazeer don't. Bile and Lhaklar have fake I.D.'s that say they're twenty-two and twenty-one years old. They also have licenses but those have their real ages on them." Hazaar said back.

"Wouldn't the fake I.D.'s be found out af-k-ter the fuzz checked them and the licenses at the same time?" Guyunis asked.

"So far, no one's noticed." Hazaar replied. "Mom doesn't know about the fake I.D.'s, it's sort of—"

"—a sec-k-ret held between you four." Guyunis finished.

"Five." Hazaar corrected.

"Let me finish up in here then I'll see wha-k-t I can do on buying you some sticks." Guyunis said. He gave Hazaar a smile then went back to looking at what he was looking at before.

They didn't stay in Der Neuheit for long; Guyunis left the store without buying a single thing. He led his brother out of the community center then back to where he and Lhaklar had purchased their smokes earlier. He spell-sent his three shopping bags home then he told Hazaar to wait outside. He went inside afterwards. The line that was in the store was short; he asked for three packs of Marlboro's and Kamel Light Red's then he slid his remaining cash forward after he got to the counter. The cashier took the cash then turned around; the desired packs of cigarettes were taken from the shelf that was behind him. He handed them over without saying a thing to his customer. When Guyunis left the store, he asked his brother to follow him. He led Hazaar around to the back of the store then he handed the cigarette packs that he had just bought over. Hazaar thanked him; he paid him back for the cigarettes then teleported home—Guyunis thought that the lightning effect that Hazaar had picked out for his post-teleportation was cool. After Hazaar teleported, he shook his head, then pocketed the cash that his brother had given him back, then teleported to the house that he and his family lived in. Even though Hazaar went home a few seconds before he, they still walked into the house together. They stopped at the same time after taking one step into the house.

"Whoa! Think mum's really on a ball with the shopping-k today." Guyunis exclaimed. There were a lot of bags in the hallway that came off the house's foyer.

"Heed my advice, bro. Look but don't touch—momma's got laser's for eyes; she'll burn your hand off if you're caught touching them bags." Hazaar jokingly warned his brother.

"Guyunis? Hazaar? That you two?" it sounded like their mother was home; it also sounded like she was in the kitchen.

"Yes!" Hazaar and Guyunis said together; their mother walked into view a few seconds later.

"I see that you, Hazie, have done some shopping." Angel said after walking into the hallway that came off the house's foyer. "G, did you do some shopping for yourself? I don't see any bags on you."

"I did one of them sender spells on my bag-k-s, mum." Guyunis said. "They're all up in my room."

"You two have fun on your outing?" Angel asked.

"Yes," Hazaar and Guyunis replied together, again.

"Head on upstairs, get whatever you bought out from the bags then work on your rooms some more." Angel said. "I'll be quite busy for a while—as you see, I have plenty to do down here."

"You did good, momma." Hazaar said. Guyunis walked by without saying anything more to his mother.

"I had to come back for another hundred euros just to finish my shopping up—it was all needed but boy was it all expensive." Angel said.


	7. Chapter 7

"I can't believe it! They couldn't even wait a little while before putting it out on the news, or in the papers, about our moving here." Lhaklar said angrily. The newspaper, that he had just gotten through reading, was tossed onto the table. In the living room, he heard his mother saying something similar; she went to call Mr. Leinart after he showed her the article that was on the paper's front page.

"It was eventually going to get out about our being here." Bile said.

"Eventually means sometime after we've moved here. It's only been three days and we're all over the news and—"

"We haven't been all over the news, Lhaklar. One news station ran a small report that we were sighted in the Grün Bach subdivision." Bile said.

"It was more than just one news station, Bile. I got up earlier than you. I was flicking the channels like mad... I saw over—"

"Five total, you kept ranting and raving about it to mom after she got up." Hazaar said. "You practically jumped at her about us being on tv before she could even get dressed."

"Six," Lhaklar corrected.

When they heard their mother speaking in the next room, they went silent; while they were hoping to hear-in to what she was saying to Mr. Leinart they were also hoping that she'd speak in a low voice so they wouldn't be able to hear what transgressed between her and the man who had helped them in getting the house that they had been living in for the last three days. That morning wasn't the best of mornings for any of them. Lhaklar had decided to get up at six; after getting dressed, he turned the 30" flat screen tv, that was in his room, that Mr. Leinart had generously purchased for him, on.

The news had just started running when he turned his tv on; the report on their being sighted in the subdivision of Grün Bach had caught his attention quickly. After that report concluded, he did some news channel surfing to see if what he just saw was being passed around; what he saw had taken his breath away.

The news on channel 1 was just airing the report on their being sighted in the subdivision of Grün Bach; the news that was airing on channel 103 had shown a photograph of them and their mother standing outside the house with Mr. Leinart while channel 50 had shown a video clip of two of the semi-trucks coming into their driveway. The news that was on channel 202 had shown a video of him, Hazaar, and Lazeer walking about the town's community center and the news that was on channel 34 had done a short, simple interview with one of their new neighbors, who said that it looked like they were moving into the neighborhood. He was pretty miffed after seeing all of them reports, that one photograph and video, and that one interview; when Bile's alarm went off at eight, he went straight across the hall to their mother's room to tell her what he saw on his tv.

Along with being too excited, he wasn't able to speak coherently after reaching the room; he was stuttering and stammering like crazy, and he was also flinging his hands about like a mad man. With the way he was acting, it hadn't surprised him that she had asked if he was feeling well—the movement of hers in going to see if he was running a fever had done the trick in breaking the curse that he was under; he started talking in a normal, clear way after her hand was placed to his forehead. Hazaar was in the upstairs bathroom at the time; Guyunis was in the downstairs bathroom while Bile and Lazeer were getting dressed—due in part to his screaming most of what he had told her, they had heard him relay all of what he saw on tv. His mother had surprised him by staying calm. She had said something around the area of putting in a call to Mr. Leinart after breakfast—she hadn't seemed a bit concerned over their being on six news stations that morning. She had remained calm all throughout making them their breakfast; her stationed chair, that sat at the head of the table, had just been sat in by her when he showed her the article that was in the Elchesheim-Illingen newspaper.

If it was just one or two news stations running a report on their moving to the Grün Bach subdivision, he would of gotten a little upset; seeing five similar, but different, reports on five other news stations had made him mad. He came close to ripping the newspaper in two after seeing the article that was on its front page; while reading the paper, he had wondered where the old respect that they had received on their other moves had gone—the humans had shown them respect after they moved to Green River, Wyoming; no reports on the news stations were made or run and no newspaper articles were written on their moving to the area for nearly a month. The humans had let them get settled in their new home before putting it out on the news and in the papers about where they were; that same respect was given to them when they were moving from town to town in Canada. While the humans had written or done their newspaper articles or news broadcasts on them a week after they moved to Oklahoma, they had still been given ample respect during that move. If the humans in the U.S and Canada could give them that type of respect then why the hell couldn't the humans in Europe of done the same thing? Lhaklar picked the newspaper, that he just threw on the table, up; he spread it out then read the article that was written on his family for the third time that morning.

 _Master Vile in the Americas; Daughter and Family in Europe_

 _Where is our planet's heroine? Six months ago, it was discovered that Angel Irene—who, along with all of her sons, had previously been reported as missing after her apartment exploded in early December—was alive and well in the North American state of Colorado; while elusive, she was reported as being seen on several occasions after being sighted. The question of where our planet's heroine, and her five-reported sons, went sprang up after the much-feared Master Vile, who staked a claim on our little planet in the Milky Way Galaxy over two thousand years ago, happened on a way to get into the North American shields that had previously kept him out. Many have wondered if the entire family was captured by the ruthless monster; many have wondered if she fled the planet with her five sons for fear that her sons would be harmed by the man; and others have wondered if she and her family went into hiding. We all got our answer on where the family went three days ago: the family was spotted in good health in the subdivision of Grün Bach—which is in our town of Elchesheim-Illingen. Curiously, they were spotted in the company of our nation's president, Mr. Stefan Leinart._

 _According to sources that have wished to remain anonymous, Angel Irene and her family were given assistance by our president; Stefan Leinart has been reported as purchasing them a house and then a car. On August 1, four of Miss. Irene's five sons were spotted in the community center that's in our town; Miss. Irene's oldest son, Bile Vile, who is also the son of the ruthless monster that's over the Atlantic taking over the Americas, was spotted in Amsterdam on the same day._

 _Ten months ago, Miss. Irene only had four sons in her care; she surprised all of us by showing up in one of the towns of Colorado Springs, Colorado with five sons. It's speculated that she adopted a child before the aliens and monsters that are related to her showed up in Green River, Wyoming—the town where she and her four biological sons lived in ten months ago._

 _The administrative offices in the Chancellery haven't returned any calls from news stations or from anyone working for the newspaper; Stefan Leinart has remained very tight-lipped on Angel Irene and her sons and no one working in the Chancellery will speak of Miss. Irene and her five sons' living in our nation of Germany. So far, the monster that's across the Atlantic has shown no signs of coming towards the Eastern Hemisphere or in knowing that his daughter, son, grandsons, and probable adopted-grandson are in Germany._

"After finishing breakfast, we need to head up and start packing our things." Lhaklar said. He slapped his hand on the table's surface when his brothers groaned. "Look, I hate to do it myself but we do have to face the facts. Everyone in Europe will know that we are here; everyone that lives in the Americas will know that we are here. With our moving here being broadcast all over the news, the tyrant that's in the Americas will find out where we are soon. It's best that we move and now before he comes looking for us."

"We just got through fixing the house up—" Lazeer said.

"We stay here, we get hurt by that... that... man that's on the other side of the planet, Lazeer." Lhaklar said. Although he was trying to keep his cool, he was near to exploding.

With their being so busy in getting the house set-up the way they wanted it to be set-up, none of them were really able to watch any tv or read any newspapers. They had pretty much been busy from the moment they woke up until the moment where they went to bed; say that to Mr. Know-It-All aka Lhaklar, his younger brother who thought he knew it all, and who also thought he was the Man of the House, he'd probably say otherwise. Dark Dad would of already shown his ugly face by now if he knew about their being in Germany; he would of tried to get into the shields and he would of started trouble and they'd be running for their lives. Lhaklar would of said something about their getting out and fast if he had brought up them little facts; Bile looked at his brother's hot, angry face for just a second before standing up. He left the table, and then the dining room, then went straight to the living room, where his mother went to make a phone call ten minutes ago.

As hard as it was for him to believe, the room that he was walking into was bare... naked of all furnishing three days ago. It was now fully furnished; he thought that his mama and Lazeer had done a fabulous job in fixing it up. Very little assembly was required after the red microfiber sectional couch was brought in; up to five persons could sit comfortably on the couch that his ma had seen and then picked from the catalog that they were given. The couch was up against the room's left-side wall. There were two, red microsuede, square-shaped pillows resting against the couch's arms; the rustic, modern coffee table—yet another item that his ma had seen and then picked from the catalog that they were given—, that was in front of the sectional couch, had a tv remote on its surface.

Most of the residences where he and his family had lived in had either had a Laz-Y-Boy or a modern chair in their living rooms; there was no such furniture in their new residence. Instead of a Laz-Y-Boy or modern chair, his family's new home had a red velvet loveseat in its living room—there were two textured throw pillow's on the loveseat. His mother actually had to purchase the pillows that were on the loveseat and sectional couch; neither of them two pieces of furniture had come with them two decorative items included. The round pedestal side table, that was beside the sectional couch's left arm, had a 25-inch tall, espresso-brown traditional table lamp on its surface; his mama had gone and gotten two of the round pedestal tables—the second side table was beside the loveseat's right arm. The table that was beside the loveseat had nothing on it.

He and his brothers all agreed that the bamboo and rattan floor lamp was a nice piece; their mother had bought it three days ago when she went out to do a little shopping for the house. Lazeer had placed the lamp in the corner that was to the left of the loveseat. There was a 39" big screen tv mounted above the gas-powered fireplace; the gas-powered fireplace had framed photographs of him and his brothers all along its front. There were more framed photographs of him and his family on the room's walls. The walls also had a few flower portraits on them.

His mother was on a red, cordless phone, that had a round, hollow base unit. The phone's handset was rather thin—so much so that he and his brothers could wrap their hands around it twice. The buttons that were on the phone's handset were transparent while the numbers and symbols that were on them were a fluorescent yellow color. The phone's base unit was on a solid oak, two-shelf entertainment center, which was to the right of the gas-powered fireplace; at the moment, the phone was the only thing that was on the entertainment center. Of all the things his mother had purchased three days ago, the entertainment center had cost her the most—he was floored after seeing the amount of €245.10 on the receipt! After everything was set-up in the room, his ma had said that she didn't want the house's living room to look cluttered. She wanted everyone to be able to breathe in the room and she also wanted the room to look clean and somewhat organized. He and his brothers had all agreed that they'd do their utmost best to not destroy the house; they had crossed their chests when they made that promise. After walking into and then taking the living room in, he contemplated taking a seat on the loveseat, to wait for his mother to get off the phone. He had no more started towards the loveseat when his mother placed the phone's handset down on its base unit.

"Ma," he said after she hung the phone up.

"Biley," she returned.

"Is... is everything alright?" he asked. "Do you want us to start packing our stuff?"

"Everything's fine, Bile. No, we're staying here." Angel answered.

"Lhaklar wants us to start packing up our things after we finish breakfast." Bile said.

Angel went forward, towards her oldest child; when she reached him, she turned him around then gave him a gentle push to get going. She led him to the dining room then she told him to sit at his place at the table, which he obediently did. She resumed the task of eating her breakfast right after he retook his seat at the table.

In a way, she was glad that the room was so quiet—she needed a few minutes to process all of what Stefan had just told her. She had a feeling that something about her family moving to Germany would find its way to either the tube or the papers and it had—the move wasn't a quiet one... there were a lot of people around to witness it and, naturally, one of them people had gone around, spilling certain things that were going on in their neighborhood.

She had done the best she could in remaining calm after being told about their being on the news; after Lhaklar showed her the article, that was in the local Elchesheim-Illingen newspaper, she had experienced a sort of freak-out. After seeing the article, then taking the trip to the living room, she called the number that was on the card that Stefan had left her. The man had picked up right away; he and she had talked pleasantly for a minute before the issue on her and her family being on the news, and in the newspapers, was brought up.

"Miss. Irene, have you noticed any news coming forward from the Americas lately?" Stefan asked after she told him her concerns about her and her sons being on the news and in the newspapers.

"No—I've been quite busy the last three days. I haven't been able to watch any tv or read any newspapers." she replied.

"For the past three days there's been a block on any news reaching the Western Hemisphere," Stefan said. "I did all the calls myself. I arranged a meeting with all of Europe's, Eurasia's, and the island nations' leaders after I left your place. We all agreed that any and all news from our side of the planet will remain on our side of the planet."

The question pertaining to what was going on on the other side of the planet was asked; Stefan had responded by saying that things weren't good in the Americas. Stefan claimed that several of North America's states were combined; civilians that lived in or around the forested parts of Central and South America were ordered to abandon their homes—any and all form of civilization had either been torn down or forcibly abandoned in them two parts of the Americas—; and her father was now issuing his tests to that part of the planet's population.

She had a field day in telling Stefan all about the tests that her father continued to throw in the faces of his new civilians—normally, a test would consist of either a single page of questions or a small set of stapled papers that had questions on them; her father's test was very different than the standard tests that school teachers gave out to their students. His test was practically a small, twenty or so page booklet that consisted of questions that were all about him. All of the questions that were in them twenty-something page booklets had to be answered correctly; if any were answered incorrectly, the person who took the test would be given a fine. Her father was right strict on his booklet tests; the civilians of his newly conquered planets were only given one day to study before he gave his tests out. If someone got one answer wrong, they were fined a hundred dollars. If that same person continued to get answers wrong on the second try, he or she would spend a week in jail and, if that same person continued to get the questions wrong, he or she would be thrown in jail for the rest of their life.

She had seen her father's own personal test booklet once; with the test being on him and only him, only one who either knew him real well or who had done some heavy-duty studying on him, that'd take up more than a single day, would be able to pass it on the first try. Naturally, when she told all of this to Stefan, he had said that her father needed to be thrown in a loony bin. She had agreed with him then they had said their goodbyes before hanging up.

"Momma—"

"You five have finished working on your rooms right?" Angel asked. Out of her five sons, only four nodded their heads. Bile shook his. "Bile, what have you left to do with your room?"

"Need to find some shelves or something—can't put them lamps that I bought three days ago up until I do." Bile replied.

"I-k-t's been three days and you've yet to put them cool lamps tha-k-t you bought in Ams-k-terdam up?" Guyunis said in shock.

"Man, you best put them up before Guyunis or I decide to steal them from you." Hazaar said.

"You can have the lamps, I want that Megan Fo-k-x poster that Bile put on his wall." Guyunis said.

"Are the lamps the last things you need to put up in your room, Bile?" Angel asked.

"Yes,"

"Alright, I want that room of yours finished by nine this morning." Angel said.

"Uh, well, I can't really do that, ma. I—"

"Why can't you, Bile?" Angel asked.

"In order for me to have my room finished, I would need some shelves or something to put the lamps on. My bookcase is full to capacity—I'd either need to go find some shelves or a table or something at the dump or go on another buying spree." Bile replied. He looked down at his plate; his food had barely been touched. "And I have no money to do the latter and I've been too busy with the house to do the former."

"You didn't see or ask for any shelves three days ago when Mr. Leinart gave you that catalog?" Angel asked.

"No, I didn't think I'd need them." Bile replied.

After getting to her feet, Angel reached into the front left pocket of her pair of faded blue jeans for the folded fifty euro note that was placed in it that morning.

A little late-birthday shopping was done for each of her sons three days ago; she bought them some things that she thought they'd like—since she didn't want to ruin or spoil the fun that them gifts would bring, all of what she bought was currently in their underground storage. She didn't want to give her sons their late-birthday presents until their rooms were complete; with Bile's room still not finished, she couldn't give them their presents yet.

With the money withdrawn from her pocket, she gave it to Bile; she told him to use the money on what he needed for his room before reaching into the back left pocket of her pants for the wad of cash that was in it.

She was a fair mother; one who never gave one son more than the other and one who never gave one of her children money while leaving the others flat broke. She had €300 rolled up in her back left pants pocket; when she pulled that out, she quickly deducted €250 from it. She split that between Lhaklar, Guyunis, Hazaar, and Lazeer; the remainder of what she had was put in the pocket that she had gotten the fifty euro note from. She was planning on getting some flowers for the flowerbeds that were in front of the house with the money that she had just distributed to her sons; for her, the act of her being fair in giving all of her sons some money was more important—she didn't want any of her sons to start thinking that she was playing favorites.

"Mom, we really should consider leaving. We're all over the news and—"

"Lhaklar, we're fine. I spoke with Mr. Leinart about our being in the papers and on the news. All news that goes on in Europe stays in Europe, Mr. Mean across the Atlantic won't know anything of us being here." Angel said quickly.

"You sure of that? Sometimes things get out and—"

"It's been three days, Lhakie. If he had read about our being here, or had seen us on the news, he'd of either sent one of his lackeys here or he'd of come here himself." Angel said, again interrupting her son. "We've seen nothing and we've heard nothing."

"How do we know that he doesn't know we're here though?" Lhaklar asked. "We should be careful... Someone might slip up or something when they go across the Atlantic to visit friends or s—"

"One of the humans here in Europe is going to hop on a plane or boat and go across the Atlantic to visit friends or relatives when there's a mad-man in the Americas?" Bile chuckled as he shook his head. "Why the hell would someone go visiting friends or relatives when Dark Dad is known to be in the Amer—"

"Out of fear—someone might go across the Atlantic to rescue their family or friends." Lhaklar said. "Your father might also have someone checking the mail as it comes in as well. The mail is still running; someone from Europe could write a relative or a friend and say that we've been spotted here."

While what Lhaklar had said was true—the mail _was_ still being run so word on their being in Europe _could_ get out by a simple slip up by someone writing a relative or a friend in the Americas about their being sighted in the village of Elchesheim-Illingen—, Angel made Lhaklar quiet up by telling him some good points. Stefan Leinart had used his hard-earned money on them; he had purchased the house that they were now in, he had purchased the house's furniture for them, and he had purchased the Porsche D2 that she drove, and he had also given them €5,000... if they left, they'd pretty much be giving themselves a bad image as moochers or as being ungrateful. They couldn't just leave; if they did they'd be shaming Stefan Leinart's generosity towards them and they'd be showing how ungrateful they were. Even though the man had signed the house and the car titles over to her, it would still be wrong of them to leave. Lhaklar gave his mother a long, sad look then went back to his breakfast.

As Lhaklar went back to his breakfast, Guyunis looked at the family that he had been living with for the last six months. He had no idea who the fool was that they were talking about and he had no idea why Lhaklar was being so nervous about the man. His new mum had told him that they were safe; the shields, that were over the civilized parts of Europe, had been made so nothing could get in or out of them—that should mean that this "Master Vile" person was no threat to them. Guyunis stuffed the fifty euro note that he was given into the only remaining pocket of his light brown cargo shorts—which were pretty much pulverized... shredded from the knees on down—then he did a quick glance around the dining room and kitchen that he and his family were in.

He and his family were seated according age at the table—Bile, Lhaklar, and he were seated in that order on the left side of the table while Hazaar and Lazeer were seated in that order on the other side of the table. The mahogany-colored china cabinet, that had a bowed front, was behind Hazaar and Lazeer but it was different now; it had glass plates, bowls, and glasses on its inner shelves. All of the stickers that were on the tableware had been removed by Bile; Bile had handed all of the items to their mum who had put them in the cabinet afterwards. The nice, three-tier, wooden spice rack, that their mutter had purchased three days ago, was to the left of the china cabinet. Bile had nailed it to the wall himself. Hazaar and Lazeer had teamed up to put the spices in the spice rack while he, Lhaklar, and Bile had helped their mutter in the kitchen.

The sleek, black Sunbeam microwave, that had a digital clock above the touch-sensitive buttons, was on the counter-section that the kitchen sink was on—he was the one to remove that appliance from its box. Lhaklar had put the silverware organizer and the silverware in the drawer that was on the opposite side of the counter-bar; he had also put the knife block, that had five, different sized, knives in it, on the edge of the counter-bar. The cooking utensils—the plastic and wooden spoons, the spatulas, the ladles, the whisks, and the slotted spoons—were put in the drawer that was beside the one that had the silverware organizer and the silverware in it afterwards. While Lhaklar did all of that, he took the stickers from the undersides of the plastic plates, bowls, and cups.

The counter that was to the right of the stove had an electric can opener on it while the counter that was to the left of the stove had a Hamilton Beach coffee maker on it; he was the "guilty" party responsible for taking them two appliances out of their boxes and then setting them up. A cutting board was under the coffee maker; he was the one responsible for putting it there. The Oster Osterizer, 14-speed blender, that was on the counter that was across from the kitchen sink, was removed from its box by Bile; Bile held the credit for setting that machine up on its counter and he also held the credit for plugging it in. The dish drain, complete with under-tray, was beside the kitchen sink; their mum had put it on one of her newly purchased towels. The 4-slice toaster was removed from its box and then placed beside the can opener by their mum.

He and Lhaklar had placed the mop, the broom, and the vacuum cleaner in the kitchen closet then they had stepped back. He was clueless on what was under the kitchen sink; Bile was seated Indian-style in front of the kitchen sink when he was walking by. There was a large pile of stuff near him that he was putting under the sink at the time. While walking by, he saw a bottle of Windex, a bottle of Mr. Clean, a bottle of dish detergent, and he also saw a pack of sponges. He thought he saw a container of Ajax as well; while that cleaning agent was needed in the house, he wasn't sure if it was purchased. The kitchen, the dining room, and the living room were all done in one day; their mutter had stopped them from doing any further work in the house after them three rooms were finished. She had said for them to relax while she made supper; in the two days that followed their first real day of being in their new home, they had worked on the house's bathrooms and closets. They had also worked on their bedrooms too.

"I've got some things to do outside today—girl-things that you fine bunch of boys would groan and be bored to death with. I want you five to go out someplace today. Enjoy yourselves, but don't get into too much trouble." Angel said. "Be back by ten-thirty; there will be a few surprises waiting for all of you... if Bile gets his lamps up in his room by then, that is."

"Uh-oh, she said surprises." Lazeer said loudly, he then started slapping his feet down on the floor. "Time to explode! Time to stampede! Time to go cr-aiii-zzz-eee!"

"What kind of surprises?" Guyunis asked. He found himself being right curious.

"My lips're sealed. You'll find out if your brother finishes his room." Angel said. She said no more afterwards.

Bile forced his near cold breakfast down then stood up. He excused himself then took his plate and fork to the sink, where he quick-washed and then placed them in the side of the sink that was reserved for dirty dishes; with his breakfastware squared away, he left the kitchen and then the dining room. There was the sound of a chair being scraped against the dining room's vinyl floor right after he left the room; he heard his mother snap at Guyunis to be careful with the chairs and the floor then he heard Guyunis apologize. He was just reaching the house's front door when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist. When he turned around, and saw who it was that had him by the wrist, he rolled his eyes. He shook Guyunis's hand off his wrist then turned back to the door.

He and Guyunis were much like he and his biological brothers—sometimes they didn't need to say a thing to know what they were thinking about or wanted. When he turned around to see who had grabbed him by the wrist, he had seen the question that was in Guyunis's eyes—Guyunis wanted to come along and had asked him via the eyes if that was alright with him; instead of saying no, and instead of pushing Guyunis away, and instead of getting in a fight with him, he had just rolled his eyes. Guyunis could tag along with him as long as he didn't slow him up, create trouble, or "cramp" his style.

While he and all of his biological brothers got along well and, while he liked hanging out with his brothers, there were a few things that they did that drove him crazy: Lhaklar had a way of trying to act like their daddy when he wasn't, which was damn annoying; Hazaar had a way of being too touchy and grouchy from time to time; and Lazeer's little habit of cracking a joke at just about everything and being overly goofy was just plain annoying. Lazeer drove them all crazy with his jokes; he even drove their mother crazy with his joke-doing and goofiness. That, in itself, was pretty damn bad. Regardless of the fact that Guyunis wasn't of blood-birth relation to him, he was of no exception—he enjoyed having him tag along with him and his relationship with him was just the same as it was with his biological brothers. While Guyunis's apprehension towards the humans was annoying, he had a good reason to show or express it. He had yet to find the little issues that Guyunis had to him that were annoying.

According to what he had heard on his alarm clock's radio, the weather for that day was going to be pretty mild; when he opened the door, he was bathed in the sun's warm rays. When the warm, morning breeze blew into his face, he shook his head. He was appropriately attired for the weather; the pair of blue jeans, that had large holes in the knees, and the gray shirt, that had three tears in the chest and stomach areas, weren't heavy or too light. The pair of brown leather boots, that were on his feet, were found in his room's closet; their laces were tied tightly, so they wouldn't slip off his feet while he was walking. He gave the pocket that was on the left side of his pants a pat on instinct to see if the €50 that his mother had given him was still there then he reached back to see if his wallet was were it was suppose to be; with both items being on his person, he looked over at Guyunis. The pair of steel-toed, waterproof logger boots, that his adoptive brother had on his feet, were well-worn but they looked to have plenty of life still in them. Guyunis was shirtless—his former adoption family had thrown him some shirts; he had thrown them all away as they had either been badly torn or ripped or very badly stretched out. His adoptive brother had no shirts to his name. Bile had to suppress the laugh that wanted to come out when he remembered Guyunis telling him about what he did with the pairs of underwear that his former adoption family had thrown him; this Meyer family had thrown Guyunis underwear that hadn't only been previously worn by them but that had also been very badly stretched out and holey. According to Guyunis, each of them given pairs of underwear were thrown away.

The laugh that he had just suppressed wasn't one of them laughs that happened after a joke was made; it was a laugh made before anger or anxiety sets in—he felt a lot of anger towards the people who had his brother before his mother adopted him. He was relieved over knowing that his brother wasn't wearing underwear that had previously been on someone else's body. He was glad he didn't know who the Meyer family was; how anyone could treat someone else so cruelly and heartlessly was beyond him—he was glad that Guyunis was with a family that wouldn't only show him love and respect but that would also provide him with the essential clothing pieces that he needed to wear to keep his body protected. He still didn't know if Guyunis had told their mother or not about the underwear that he was thrown; to his knowledge, Guyunis was still walking around with nothing worn under his pants. He cringed over that knowledge; his adoptive brother was really risking material burns on a rather sensitive area of his body!

"Ready to go to Bile Territory, Bro?" Bile asked Guyunis.

"Sure, where's thak-t?" Guyunis asked.

"Where did I spend all of the money that Lhaklar gave me three days ago?" Bile dropped his left eyelid in a wink. "Free-For-All land."

"Hold on a sec-k-ond," Guyunis said. He turned then went into the house.

The door to the house swung open after his brother went in; Bile waited for his brother to return. He didn't need to ask or wonder why Guyunis went back into the house; he knew by instinct that Guyunis had gone to retrieve his hoodie—the one thing that he never went out in public without. The humans—the Meyer's—that had him before his mother adopted him had done a number on his self-confidence; he was made to think of himself as downright ugly and disgusting, which, Bile knew, but wouldn't say directly to his new brother's face, wasn't true. While he knew Guyunis had changed a lot over the last half year, he also knew that his new brother had a long way to go before being fully settled. That went double for Guyunis acting like a normal, mid-teenager. When Guyunis came out of the house, he was wearing the remnants of the blue hoodie that he always wore when he went out in public. He had just gotten it situated on his head when Bile reached over. Bile grabbed Guyunis by the arm then teleported them to where he went to find some pot and to do a little bedroom furnishing shopping three days ago. When they got there, Bile stepped away from his new brother. He walked on down the yellow sidewalk alone for a few seconds before Guyunis appeared on his left.

This was the exact same stretch of sidewalk that he found himself walking down after teleporting to Amsterdam three days ago; its yellow concrete surface ran a short distance before going gray—the reason for this was clear. There was a bridge up ahead that ran across a river—the Amstel, which, according to the pamphlet that he grabbed from one of the conveniently placed locations that was nearby, had originally begun at two smaller rivers called the Drecht and the Kromme Mijdrecht, which had joined together a little south of the municipality and town of Uithoorn. The pamphlet that he picked up had said that, after the construction of the Amstel-Drecht Kanaal—which he and Guyunis were now walking over—, the river and the canal now began where the Drecht and another canal, the Aarkanaal, joined one another near the town of Nieuwveen.

His knowledge of Amsterdam, and the Netherlands, was pretty basic; his mother had only taught him the basics of the place when he was a child. Amsterdam was the capital city within the Kingdom of the Netherlands; it started out as a small fishing village in the late 12th century and it got its name from the Amstel river, which it was at the mouth of. There were about eight districts in the city; the population was currently under a million—in stark contrast, the overall population in 2013 was 3,500,990. The population had come under threat over the last few thousand years with all the plagues and natural disasters that had happened.

Despite his limited knowledge on the city, he was very well educated in the fact that the city was commonly called the Free-For-All place by the humans. Amsterdam was known well for its Cannabis coffee shops—places where one could walk in, take a seat, order something, then take a joint or a pipe out without being jumped on or hearing the you'll-get-in-trouble from someone nearby. The air that was in Amsterdam's Cannabis coffee shops was usually thick with Cannabis smoke so one didn't necessarily have to bring something to smoke in the establishment—one could get a contact high from just sitting in the place. After grabbing the pamphlet, he went straight to one of the Cannabis coffee shops to either get some weed or find a reliable human who would be decent enough to assist him in getting some weed.

His first attempt wasn't met with success; apparently, only the locals were allowed to purchase the shops' available Cannabis. Since he was a "tourist", he couldn't go in and then buy what the shops were selling. After visiting three Cannabis coffee shops, he decided to wait for one of the humans that were in them to come out. It took him four attempts before a helpful human was found; half of what he was given on that morning three mornings ago was spent on some good, mid-grade pot. The rest of what he was given was spent on his bedding. The lamps, and the Megan Fox poster, that he purchased while here three days ago, were splurge buys; their prices were more than fair, which was why he purchased them.

"You know the language spoken here, righ-k-t?" Guyunis asked.

"Ja, ik wil." Bile replied.

"I don't," Guyunis said. While he didn't know what Bile had just said, he figured that Bile's response was a yes. "I know only English, French, and German."

"I know several languages so, if any of the locals say anything to you that you don't understand, ask me to translate." Bile replied. Before leaving for Earth with his mother and brothers, both he and Lhaklar were learning Vilian and Moasian; they had just finished learning the basics of them two languages from their father when their mother fled with them to Earth. His mother had started teaching him and his brothers the languages that she knew after they reached the age of eight hundred and fifty; she had insisted that they learn some of the planet's languages. All of them were good pupils for her; she taught them her learned languages—which were Spanish, German, French, and Latin—first then she said for them to pick out a different language that she didn't know to learn. He picked Welsh for his fifth learned language while Lhaklar picked Japanese for his. Hazaar decided on Greek a few years after he learned how to speak their mother's learned languages and Lazeer picked Dutch for his fifth learned language.

Naturally, since they already knew how to speak English, they hadn't had to learn that language. He and his brothers had decided to pick up each others fifth learned languages soon after graduating from either Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic or the University of Telepathy; their mother had joined them in learning them languages—that was nice... The tutor and the parent had also become the classmate and the student.

While Guyunis followed Bile from a comfortable distance, he didn't slow him up or try to mingle-in with the humans that were walking about. Even though it was early morning, the human traffic on the walkway was pretty thick; he found himself having to turn his body just to keep from bumping into someone. Although Bile did look back from time to time to make sure he was following him, he, for the most part, walked and looked forward; he was looking for a building—a small one that looked rather dilapidated on the outside but that was pretty jam-packed on the inside with all sorts of stuff—that he saw three days ago. The building that he saw three days ago was sandwiched between two other buildings—one, a store that sold cool, novelty items, and the other a small pastry and magazine shop.

Bile led Guyunis down the walkway, that was on the bridge, that went over the canal, then he led him on for another mile before finding the store that he saw on the first of August. The brick exterior of the building had gaps and cracks in it; there was mold and dirt festering on its front; and the glass front door was rather filthy. When Bile opened the door, he cringed over the sound that its hinges made—they made a creaky sound that made his eardrums want to scream! The letters that were on the door spelled out Greta's Tweedehandswinkel—the latter word meaning Thrift Store in English. Bile went into the store with Guyunis following behind him; the door creaked shut behind them.

"For such a small store on the outside, it's sure long and big on the inside." Bile thought after he entered the store.

He wasn't the only one blown away by the store's interior—Guyunis was practically staring at everything through wide eyes. The inside of the building that they had just walked into seemed to stretch on forever; there seemed to be no end to the store at all. Despite the dilapidated exterior appearance, the store's interior was very neat and orderly; to their left, Bile and Guyunis saw clothing racks that held dresses, blouses, and jeans. To their right, they saw egg crates full of old toys that had not a speck of dust on them. There were boxes of socks and shoes in front of the racks that the dresses, jeans, and blouses were on and there were stands that had children's clothing on them in front of the egg crates that contained the toys. A magazine rack was up against the wall beyond the boxes of socks and shoes; there was a series of two and three-shelf bookcases that contained books in front of the magazine rack.

There were coffee tables behind the stands that had the children's clothing on them; they were either leaning up against the wall or were down on all four legs. There were rows of kitchen chairs and stools beside the coffee tables; a row of kitchen tables was beside the kitchen chairs and stools. Bile walked forward when he saw the two rows of bookcases that were beside the row of kitchen tables; Guyunis stood where he was. He was in shock over what he was seeing.

While he knew what a thrift store was, this wasn't what he had envisioned the store to look like—where was the filth? the dirt? the dust? where were the unkept areas? This... store looked very clean and organized; after craning his neck a bit to take a closer look at the bookcases that had the books on them, he saw that there were two registers in the establishment. There were two humans, both women and both rather attractive, running them. One of the women had blonde hair while the other had chestnut-brown hair; the blonde-haired woman had a rose tattoo high up on her left arm while the chestnut-brown haired woman had her hair set in a perm. Guyunis shook his head to clear it then walked forward; he figured that he best do something other than stand around. There was a cardboard box that looked to have some old, rolled up posters in it about five feet from where Bile was, he went to it.

"Is that who I think it is?" Cyndi Aeron said. She pointed at Bile, who had his back turned to her.

"If that's the cretin that took over the Americas... Stephen! Stephen, come over here please." a short, black-haired man, who was right big—both in girth and muscle—, walked over after hearing Ava Iwan, his co-worker, calling for him. "You had a good view of that fellow there—" Ava pointed at Bile's backside. "—is that the monster that's across the Atlantic in the Americas or is he someone else?"

"No, that fellow is half-green and half-yellow. Vile the Terrible is half-blue and half-yellow." Stephen Cothi replied. He had seen a newsreel of Master Vile that morning after getting up; he had a pretty good idea of what the monster looked like. "That fellow is most probably his son."

"We don't want him here. Give him the toss-out, Stephen." Ava said.

"Miss. Iwan, I do think you need to calm down some." Stephen said. When Ava gave him a stern look he remained cool. He was a pretty confident fellow; he was twenty years older than both Ava and Cyndi and he knew well how to keep his composure. "I don't think he's here to cause trouble."

"If he's the son of that monster that took over the Americas, he will cause trouble." Ava hissed.

"Doubt it—I do believe that his mutter is Angel Irene. If Angel Irene's his mutter, I highly doubt he'll cause any trouble for anyone." Stephen said.

"He's going to scare away the customers!" Ava said in a fiercely low whisper.

"There's thirty-some people in the store, none have run out the door after he and his dark-skinned buddy walked in." Stephen said. When Ava cocked her head at him, he rolled his eyes then turned away. "If you wish to have him thrown out, do it yourself, Ava. I'm surely not going to."

That old song that was written on August 12, 4087, by the members of the band called The Maisors—Troubled Child—had pretty much been her song from junior high on through to the twelfth grade. She started smoking weed in the seventh grade then she started doing crystal before deciding to quit to dedicate herself to her schooling. Her parents had threatened to send her to a boarding school for girls if she didn't stop with all the drugs and with all the back-alley and street fighting that went along with the drugs; she had only passed the seventh and eighth grade by the skim of her teeth, and she actually had to repeat the ninth grade. She shaped up some after going through the ninth grade for the second time; she was getting good grades in the tenth grade then something happened that made her go down that troubled path again. One of her classmates passed her a white pill, that he called a "Hamburger", which she had stupidly taken.

She went right back to that old routine of doing drugs and getting into fights after taking that "Hamburger"; her schoolbooks had gotten dusty, her homework had stopped getting done, and she had started to not go to school. She had barely gotten through the tenth grade then she had found herself having to repeat the eleventh grade three times before the school decided to go on and pass her just to get her out of the building. She had gotten into fights; had come home with her face bleeding in several places, and with her knuckles being torn open—street and back-alley fighting wasn't pretty. She had paid a good penny for each of the fights that she was involved in. Thanks to her front teeth being knocked out, she was wearing a partial denture to cover the empty spaces where her real teeth had once been in. She had ended high school on a bit of an even worse note after finding herself pregnant. The little girl that she gave birth to nine months later was put in the care of her parents; due to her destructive behavior with the drugs, and with her constant back-alley and street fighting, she wasn't allowed to keep her child. She was only allowed to name her daughter; her parents disowned her soon after she gave birth to her daughter. They said that they didn't want to see her again; she said the exact same thing back.

She went right back into the drug-scene a month after giving birth to her daughter; it was around that time where she found herself getting into trouble. She was arrested twice, once for having crack cocaine on her person and the other for having acid and marijuana. Both times she was arrested, she went to jail; the first offense had gotten her six months while the second had gotten her two years. Due to good behavior, and the promise to not do drugs again, she got out of jail early on both of them offenses. She had to take drug screenings once a week, she had to go to drug counseling twice a week, and she had to wear one of them drug and alcohol ankle bracelets—her parole officer was the one responsible for her working at the thrift store; he had spoken to Greta Terfel about her working there. Greta had said that, as long as she stayed out of trouble, she could.

So far, six months after getting free from jail, she hadn't touched a single drug nor smoked a single cigarette nor drank anything alcoholic.

She had given Greta Terfel and Stephen Cothi—the former an elderly lady, who had gray hair and eyes and who had a slightly hunched over back, and the latter a forty-five year old man, who had a wife and four kids and who had been volunteering his time at Greta's Tweedehandswinkel for the last fifteen years—some trouble in them six months. She and a male customer had gotten into a fight after he came in smelling of pot; she had wanted no one near her with that smell on them. She was afraid that her bracelet would go off and she'd be taking a one-way bus ride back to jail for going against her parole. Another male customer and she had gotten into a fight over a kid's toy; he was asking her some questions on it and she was damn agitated that day due to withdrawals. She ran two female customers out afterwards; she thought that they were shoplifting when they really weren't and then there was the case last week of when one of them religious freaks came into the store. She had just gotten the bloody rose on her left arm done; when that religious freak saw her tattoo, he started in on her about how she was destroying the body that God had given her. When Mr. Religious Man saw her ankle bracelet, he started on her about how she should feel ashamed of herself for letting herself go down the path of destruction. She had told the guy off; he left then Greta Terfel told her to go home. Mrs. Terfel had come very close to calling her parole officer to tell him that she couldn't keep her in her volunteering service.

"Pleeeease, don't create a problem, Ava." Cyndi begged. When Ava stepped out from behind the register, she followed. "He's not doing anything bad, he's just looking at the furniture. Probably looking for something to—"

"It doesn't matter, he's the son of that demonic monster and that demonic monster's whore-daughter. He has it bred in him to create problems." Ava said.

"His mutter isn't a whore!" Cyndi whispered in shock. "Ava, Angel Irene has helped us! If it wasn't for her putting the shields up over the towns, cities, parks, and neighborhoods, we would be under the control of—"

"She had sex with her dat, that's enough to be called a whore to me." Ava said back.

"Av... she is not a whore and her son has been here for less than five minutes!" Cyndi grabbed Ava's wrist; when Ava continued to walk forward, towards Bile, she pulled her to a stop then turned her around. "That boy would of already caused problems long before now, leave him be!"

"Go back to the register, Cyndi." Ava hissed in Cyndi's face.

"He's just a customer!" Cyndi tried to pull Ava back but Ava was able to get free. Once Ava was free, she walked briskly across the aisle towards Bile. "Ava! Dammit, Ava! He's..."

He knew what was going on behind him and that was why he hadn't turned around to see who it was that was coming up behind him; while he felt a lot of anger over the fact that one of the women had called his ma a whore, he forced the flames that burned within his chest to drop down to a small flicker. He had to endure this a lot over the years; either a man, or a woman, in a store, or a park, would judge him after seeing him then they'd walk over to hark on him just because he was the son of an evil man who had caused so much grief over the course of two thousand, two hundred years. Who was he? Bile Vile. Who was his sire? Vile fuckin' Vile, a man who had hurt his dear mama something awful; who had put bruises and gashes and scratches and scars galore on her body and who had also had raped her continuously in the time that she was in his possession. Who was his mother? Angel Irene, the daughter of Vile fuckin' Vile, a man who considered himself to be the master of every damn thing in sight.

Let's look past the fact that Bile Vile has lived on Earth for the past one thousand, six hundred years; let's look past the fact that Bile Vile has done nothing to disturb the humans and their way of living. He's the son of the evil Master Vile so he has to be looked down upon; the innocent Bile Vile will forever be the son of the evil one who can't leave anything alone. When he was a kid, it wasn't all that bad; most of the time, the humans would speak lowly or they'd walk off to do their bad talking some distance from him. After he came home from Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, he had to endure the full-blown judging and hatred and it had hurt him something awful. He had wanted to yell it out that, just because he was the son of the evil Vile Vile didn't mean that he'd be walking in the man's footsteps. He was raised by his mama, who knew no evil nor had ever done anything evil in her life. The only reason why he had kept them yells in was because of his mother, who had said that the best thing that he could do was show by way of action who he was—meaning; walk around, keep acting like himself, show the humans that he wasn't evil, and that he meant no harm to anyone.

"It'll be hard at first—you're going to feel a lot of mixed emotions—but, after a while, things will calm down." his dear mama, who he loved so very much, had said to him so many hundreds of years ago. "You have to show courage, Biley. Only by walking and acting like yourself will you earn the trust of the humans."

Instead of showing him how to earn the humans' trust, she had let him figure it out on his own—she had given him lots of support, and she had let him talk out his frustrations, but she hadn't given him any aid on gaining the humans' trust. Over the years, he had learned the reason for why she had done that—each human was different; no one action in gaining one's trust could be repeated or duplicated with any one human. With every move that his family had done over the years, he had found that each location that they had moved to had folk residing in it that either resented him because of his father or had turned a blind eye to the fact that he was raised by just his mother instead of by his mother and his evil father—to his extreme shock, he had also found folk in them locations who hadn't learned about what his ma had done to protect the planet; they saw the shields, they had heard the talk that was passed down from generation to generation about where the shields had come from, but they hadn't learned anything about what his mother had done to keep the planet safe. He had gotten into several fights with the humans over their calling his ma a slut or a whore; after going home, then explaining the reason for why he had wounds on his body, and then explaining the reason for why he had gotten into them fights, his ma had said for him to just plain ignore what was being said.

"There will always be stubborn ones around, Biley. It doesn't matter if they are human or alien, there will be times when you come across the stubborn, arrogant, and ignorant ones that insist that one being is slime." she said one day after he came home with his knuckles being all busted up. "Best thing to do when you come upon them is nod your head then turn around—I know you love me; you fight for a purpose when you come across humans that call me them names. Won't really matter though—them arrogant, stubborn, and ignorant ones will continue talking that way; it's best that you just turn and then walk away from them."

The rustic, two-shelf bookcase, that he found, was a nice piece. It would look good in his room, but he had no interest in it; the human who judged him, and then called his ma a whore, had zapped him of all interest in bookcase or shelving shopping. He took a breath then turned around. The human who called his mother a whore was just a foot and a half from him; her mouth was open and her eyes were blazing with hate. He looked the woman up and down quickly—she had long, blonde hair and gray eyes; her body build was very average. The woman stood about five foot, six inches; the bleeding rose tattoo, that was on the deltoid muscle of her left arm, looked new to him. She was wearing a pair of blue pants and a black tank top; the white tennis shoes, that were on her feet, looked rather new to him. He had just taken in the fact that she had a black band, that had a rather bulky box attached to it, wrapped around her left ankle when she spoke.

"Yeah, you go on... Get out of here!" Guyunis turned around; he had found nothing of interest in the box that the old, rolled up posters were in. He was near the far back of the building now; so far, he had found nothing of interest in the building. What he saw when he finished turning around made the pit of his stomach churn; the blonde-haired woman that he saw earlier was practically on top of Bile. She was jabbing a finger at him; he was leaned back and over slightly. "We don't want none of your kind here! You tell that old fag dat and that slut of a mutter of yours that—none of you are wanted or needed!"

"Ava!" a man, who was big in both girth and muscle, exclaimed. The man had short, black hair and brown eyes; Guyunis saw that he was wearing a red t-shirt and baggy brown pants; the pair of black boots, that were on his feet, were rather dusty. "Leave the kid be, he's doing nothing but—"

"I don't give a damn! He can look in another shop; this one doesn't allow for ones who have Master Vile in their DNA." the blonde-haired woman snapped, she then shoved Bile towards the door. "Get out, now! Get out and don't—"

"Ava, leave him be!" the chestnut-brown haired woman yelled. The woman's cheeks were red, and the fingers of both of her hands were entwined in her hair. "He's just a kid... He's Angel Irene's son! He's doing nothing but—"

"He's evil just like that old fag of a dat of his!" the blonde-haired woman screamed.

Guyunis walked briskly back to the front of the store; he knew exactly what was going on and he didn't like it one bit! The blonde-haired woman was pushing and shoving his bruder; she was stomping her feet and she was making a loud ruckus that wasn't only attracting the attention of the humans that were in the store but also the humans that were walking by outside of the store. The humans that were in the store had stopped their browsing; all of the eyes that were in the establishment were locked on his older bruder and on the woman who was assaulting him. Guyunis's chest started hurting; he was growing very pissed off at what was going on! The short, black-haired man and the chestnut-brown haired woman walked up to the blonde-haired woman; they grabbed at the woman but she managed to slip by them. She kicked Bile in the rear twice then, when he turned to face her, she did something that made him yell. Bile was sent reeling by the slap that the woman had just dished out to him; he took two steps back then he lost his footing. He was down one second then up the next; Bile ran right out of the store without chancing a glance back. He didn't bother opening the glass door; he ran right through it then made a right turn. He disappeared afterwards.

"Are you bloody insane?" a young, dirty blonde-haired man exclaimed after Bile crashed through the front door of the store.

"Someone call the constable! Have this woman arrested for assault!" a woman who had a young infant in her arms yelled.

"Do you have any idea what you just did!" the chestnut-brown haired woman cried.

Guyunis stood back in shock—it seemed that everyone that was in the store was ganging up on the woman who had just run his bruder off. There were women with children coming towards the woman; the women that were holding infants were jabbing their fingers at the blonde-haired woman; the men were all shouting at the woman quite loudly... The blonde-haired woman was walking around in circles; she was going from one of the humans to the next, pleading her innocence and sending up a gale of bad language towards anyone who said otherwise. The short, black-haired man, who had tried to make the blonde-haired woman leave his bruder alone, had rushed off to the back of the store; a slim, gray and blue colored phone, that had a rather long cord that had many knots in it, was ripped from its base unit after the man reached the back of the store. A number was dialed frantically; the man was now talking to whoever it was that he had called.

While he could see the man talking, he couldn't hear what was being spoken about; the man seemed to be acting rather frantic. He was throwing his free hand all over the place. Despite his curiosity over what the black-haired man was saying on the phone, Guyunis slowly made his way around the humans that had gathered around the blonde-haired woman; he made as little noise as he could—he didn't want any of the attention that was being directed at the woman that had assaulted his bruder to be re-directed towards him. When he was halfway by the throng of humans, he found himself unable to cope with his curiosity. Why the hell had that one human gone away from the rest and why was he on the phone and who was he talking to and what was he talking about on that phone? Guyunis turned around then jabbed his hand in the lone man's direction.

"Ukuthula iziki! Let the private conversation across the room be heard loud and clear to my ears." Guyunis said. After he said the spell, he dropped his hand. The group of humans, that were around the blonde-haired woman, suddenly went mute; he was now able to hear the black-haired man's conversation on the phone.

"Stephen, I'm very confused at the moment. Tell me slowly what happened at the shop again please." an elderly, dry voice said.

"Ava ran another of our customers off, Greta!" the man that Guyunis figured was Stephen replied. "We had two, non-human customers walk into the store—one of them was Angel Irene's oldest son, Bile Vile. Ava yelled at him... she assaulted him by kicking and then slapping him and—"

"Angel Irene's oldest son was in the shop today?" the elderly woman that was on the phone's other end suddenly seemed very interested, and alarmed.

"Yes!"

"Where is he now, Stephen?" the elderly woman asked.

"I have no idea; after Ava slapped him, he ran off. He ran right through the front door. There are shards and pieces of glass everywhere in the front and—"

Guyunis undid the spell that he did to make the crowd around the blonde-haired woman go mute so he could hear what the man named Stephen was saying on the phone then he shoved himself through the crowd that was still around the blonde-haired woman. He heard a lot of watch-its and gasps of surprise as he went by; his steel-toed, brown leather waterproof logger boots crunched the broken glass that came from the store's front door as he left the store. He felt a shard go through the sole of one of his boots but he didn't slow up to see if it went all the way through or not. Once he was out of the store, he turned right; when the sound of sirens reached his ears, he went faster. Two fears gripped him at once—he feared that whoever it was that was driving the fuzzmobile that was making the siren sounds was coming for him and he feared for his older bruder. Where had Bile gone after running out of the store? Was he okay? A third fear joined them two after he contemplated teleporting back to the house that he and Bile had left nearly twenty minutes ago. This third fear was basic; it was an automatic fear that chilled him down to the core.

What would mum do if he returned home without Bile? Would she yell, scream, and holler at him for coming back alone or would she grab him in a hug then tell him to go up to his room while she went to Amsterdam to find Bile? Bile had pretty much left him alone but he understood why; he'd of run off too if that human had assaulted him instead of Bile—his drive to get away would of forced him to run. After doing as his drive told him to, and after going to where his terrified feet had taken him to, he'd of been gripped in sadness, and then embarrassment and shame. He was surprised that Bile hadn't said anything to the woman after she started yelling at him and he was really surprised that Bile had said nothing after the woman kicked and then slapped him. While he took the beatings that his former adoption families had given him, he hadn't stayed quiet during them—he had said a lot of things, and he had made a lot of promises, and he had lashed out when his punisher had gotten him angry enough to forget the fear of whatever weapon they were using on him. While he would of run off after some human assaulted him, he wouldn't of done so without defending himself first—he was confident enough now to know when the time was right to show defense. The woman who assaulted his bruder had no right in hurting his bruder; Bile was doing nothing wrong... he had just been looking at the stuff that was put out in the store. He was minding his own business.

Guyunis ran down the sidewalk then made a left turn before sliding to a stop. He turned around then ran across the street; he jumped over the hoods of two cars then he turned a full, tight circle after another car side-swiped him. Car horns blared and humans yelled at him to get out of the way; after he got his balance back, he ran on across the street. He ran up the sidewalk on the street that he had just risked his life to get to then, just as the pain in his hip started to grip and slow him down, he made a turn into the alley that opened off the sidewalk. He slid to a stop then leaned against the building that was on the right side of the alley. His hip started to throb right when he heard a shaky sob coming from the alley's back. Guyunis turned his head then squinted his eyes; the light that was in the alley was pretty poor but he could see that there was someone sitting on a dumpster that was in the far back of the alley.

"My m-m-ma is not a wh-wh-whore or a s-s-slut..." the person that was on the dumpster sobbed.

"Bile?" Guyunis said. The reply was a loud sob following by near incoherent talk about the person not being evil like his father; it took him a few seconds to realize that the sobber was Bile. "Bile, it's—"

"Gew... away." Bile said back shakily.

The worst thing that he could do was ask if Bile was okay—he knew that his bruder wasn't okay; Bile wouldn't be crying or telling him to go away if he was okay. He could tell from his bruder's shaky, sob-filled voice that he was experiencing an emotional moment and, with his knowing how one of the male gender felt when them teary moments happened, he knew that Bile felt degraded and ashamed of himself over his allowing his emotions to get the better of him. He knew the feeling all too well of how one of the male gender felt when they had a teary moment—he had felt degraded and ashamed of himself on each of the times that he had cried on the edge of whatever piece of busted-up furniture that he was given to sleep on by his adoption families after the heads of them families verbally or physically abused or punished him for unknown reasons. Mathis Meyer Jr. had come very near to breaking his wrist and jaw once when he swung that heavy black belt that he always used as a form of punishment on him and Lenora Meyer had actually fractured his elbow twice after swinging the pipe that she frequently used as her punishment weapon on him.

He reached his hand up; he touched the left side of his face when he remembered Lenora's habit of slapping him five times in rapid succession in front of her and her husband's children once a day. If he so much as flinched while lifting the couch up to run the vacuum under it, she would come running up to him with that hand ready to swing. She had once kicked her foot into his groin for not wrapping the hose up after he used it to water her damn flowers and she had also swung a broom at his backside when the kitchen floor was still damp five minutes after he mopped it. He had to endure twenty years with Lenora and Mathis Meyer Jr... twenty long years of abuse from them. Guyunis shook his head then started looking around the alley that he and Bile were in.

As sad as it was, the only one who allowed him the privilege of going outside during the daytime hours was Angel Irene—he was allowed to spend as much time as he wanted outside when he was a toddler and then a young child and then as an early teenager; his new mum had let him do a lot of things that the humans hadn't. He had felt the sun's rays hit and warm his skin; he had felt the wind blow his hair back; and he had heard all the daytime sounds when she had him as a toddler, a young child, and then as an early teenager; his knowledge on what it was like to be outside during the daytime hours had nearly been zapped out of his memory banks after he was adopted by the Meyer family. Thanks to his nearly forgetting what the sun felt like against his skin, he had nearly run back into the Meyer's home after receiving the envelope that his new adoption forms were in—if Mathis Meyer Jr. hadn't been following and beating him with that black belt of his, he probably would of run back into the house.

Up to his exit of the Meyer house, he had taken the world in through either the house's windows or through the quick glance around when he was outside, tending the Meyer's yard during the night hours. Due to his busy, servant schedule, he had caught very little tv when he was living with the Meyer family; much of what he knew of the world around him had come from his reading the old, moldy books that the Meyer family had thrown in a box that was in their attic.

While he had several authors that he liked, his most favorite was H.P. Lovecraft, the American author who achieved posthumous fame through his influential works of horror fiction. Mr. Lovecraft had wrote of shadowy alleys that had a half-seen horror to them. What he saw here, in this actual alley, was far from horrible—it wasn't scary at all but, he guessed that if he had happened on it during the nighttime hours, he might of been a trifle bit edgy.

The entire alley was cloaked in shadows, but that was mostly because of the buildings that surrounded it on three sides—the buildings that shielded the alley also made it feel a few degrees cooler. The bricks of the three buildings that surrounded the alley weren't thick with green slime or crawling with all manner of bugs; they were simply chilly and rough in texture. There was garbage on the ground but that had come from either when the humans had missed the dumpster when they went to throw some trash away or from when a rodent or a stray dog or cat came around looking for some food that was thrown away. There were no shabbily dressed, scraggly faced homeless people sitting against the sides of the buildings with brown bags of liquor lying across their laps. There was some graffiti on the walls of the buildings though—stuff written by teenage kids or by gangs or by people who saw themselves as artists. The dumpster that was in the back of the alley wasn't slick with slime or oil; it was dirty but that could be explained by it being a plain old dumpster.

When he moved slightly from the side of the building that he was leaning against, his hip screamed in pain—he nearly collapsed! He bit down on his lower lip to keep the yell of pain from escaping then he leaned against the side of the building as he walked over to the dumpster that Bile was sitting on. It was his left hip that was hurting him; he didn't know if it was just badly bruised or cracked or broken—all he knew was that it hurt him and bad! When he reached the dumpster, he dropped to his knees. He felt blood flow between his teeth but he didn't release the tight hold that he had on his lip. He slowly pulled his legs out from under him; when he was sitting on the ground, he let his lip go. He gasped his pain, then sighed in relief over letting that gasp out, then leaned back.

"That human was wrong-k, Bile." he said to his brother. Bile had his back turned to him. It looked like he had stopped crying; he was quiet now. "Mum's not what that human said she is... Mum's a good human. She's—"

"Ma's not a human, Guyunis." Bile said.

"She looks it." Guyunis mumbled. Bile turned around then looked at him. His glowing, yellow-green eyes were glazed. "Well... she does. She looks very human-like and—"

"Ma is not a human." Bile repeated, with a growl. "She's almost pure Vilian."

"Pure what?" Guyunis asked.

"Vilian."

"What's a Vilian?"

Good question; he actually had no answer to it because he didn't know what a Vilian was himself. His ma had told him that a Vilian was a being from the planet Gamma Vile, a planet that was in the M-51 Galaxy that his father had under his control and the planet where his father, and all of his family, had actually been born on. His ma had never really told him what, exactly, a Vilian was or what a Vilian looked like. Bile looked at Guyunis for a long time before laughing; it started out low, and barely audible, then it picked up until it was a big roar. He laughed until tears rolled out from his nearly closed eyes. He laughed until his sides, stomach, and chest hurt. He slapped his hands against the lid of the dumpster twice; when a cat jumped out from behind the dumpster, he laughed even harder. His roar-like laughter only started to taper off when Guyunis asked him if he had gone crazy. His face, along with being sore, felt like elastic when the last laugh left him. When he was done with laughing, he slid from the lid of the dumpster then went towards Guyunis; when he reached him, he held his hand out for him to grab. Guyunis grabbed it slowly; Bile yanked him to his feet quickly.

"Why are you limping, G?" Bile asked. Guyunis had moaned rather loudly then had grabbed his leg after being pulled to his feet. When Guyunis said nothing in return, Bile walked forward; he ran his hand over his brother's left leg slowly before lightly touching the hip that was attached to it.

"Dude! Hands off!" Guyunis exclaimed. He slapped Bile's hand off his hip. "I don't swing-k that way."

"Did that human back at the store do something to hurt your leg, man?" Bile asked.

"No," Guyunis moved off to lean against a building.

"What's wrong with your leg then, bro?"

All of what happened to him in the last few minutes was forgotten; his pride had taken a serious beating after he was kicked in the ass and then slapped in the face by that woman but, in the last five to ten minutes that he was in this alley, it had healed. He now had something more important to worry about—Guyunis, who wasn't just his brother but also one of his younger brothers. When Guyunis continued to not answer his question about what was wrong with him, and when he continued to act like his leg was hurting him, he walked over to his side. A slight fight was held between them as he turned Guyunis around to the side that didn't seem to be causing him grief—there wasn't much to their fight; Guyunis shoved him back a few times, and he swung his fist at him twice. He was unfazed by his adoptive brother's antics; he was insistent on finding out what was wrong with him

Guyunis lunged at him; he responded by pushing him back then he moved in closer. He pinned his brother to the side of the building that was on the left side of the alley then he placed his hand on his brother's hip; just that one touch made Guyunis's drive to fight and get away from him grow. He found that he had to really rely on his strength to keep Guyunis up against the building—while Guyunis wasn't as strong as he was, he was still pretty strong and he was giving him a go for his money. When Bile had Guyunis where he wanted him to be, he reached his hand back down to feel the leg that his brother was having problems with; what he felt he didn't much like. He knew that the ball of the thigh bone was usually located inside the hip socket... the bone of Guyunis's thigh was located outside of his hip socket—there was a noticeable lump on his brother's leg, right above his hip socket, that was hard. He gently released Guyunis then stepped back after finding what he thought was the problem.

"Think it's time we went home, G." Bile said.

"I'll be fine," Guyunis said. His hoodie was pulled back in his struggle to get free from Bile. "just need a minu-k-te."

"Who hurt you, Guyunis?" Bile asked. "Was it that woman back in the shop? Did she kick you or—"

"No, when I was running-k to find you, a car swiped me." Guyunis replied. His arms shook slightly as he worked to keep himself balanced on one leg. "I'll be fine, swear."

"A car swiped you?" Bile blinked his eyes in shock.

"I'll be fine." Guyunis insisted. "Gimme a min—"

"No! We're going home and now." Bile exclaimed. He grabbed Guyunis by his wrist then teleported them home in a near panic.

In the near forty minutes that her sons were out of the house, she had gotten nothing done—which she found quite surprising since she had planned to go out to do a little flower shopping for the house's flowerbeds that morning, after breakfast was consumed and after her sons went out to do their planned activities. Lhaklar went off about five minutes after Bile and Guyunis did; he had said something about wanting to check more of the town out. Hazaar and Lazeer had left the house together about eight or so minutes after Lhaklar had; Hazaar had said something about wanting to walk around their new neighborhood and Lazeer had said something about wanting to see what the Rhine river and its surrounding forest looked like. All of her sons had taken care of the things that they had eaten either on or with; since the right side of the kitchen sink wasn't full of dirty dishes, she couldn't do the dishes—why waste the dish detergent when there wasn't enough dishes to clean? The clothes hamper that was in the basement had some dirty clothes in it—mostly socks and underwear—but, again, why waste the clothes detergent when there wasn't enough laundry to wash? After her sons went off, she had just sat on her butt on the living room's sectional couch. She had done nothing but stare at the tv, which was rather abnormal for her—with five boys to watch over and a place to keep up, she usually had a lot to do. With this being a new house, and with her family just settling in to living in this new house, there was nothing to do. She was bored, point-blank.

The boys were all out and about; they were either exploring their new neighborhood, checking into and then making new "territories", or were meeting new people, making new friends, or, quite possibly, getting into some sort of mischief like all mid-teenage boys do. The house was clean; there wasn't enough dishes to worry about cleaning, and there wasn't enough laundry to worry about washing. She should of shoved off for one of the shops in town that sold flowers... She should of gotten herself ready for flower-planting and yard spiffing; instead, she was just sitting and staring at the tv—of which was on but wasn't really being watched.

"Just the jitters, that's all. You had them when you and the boys moved to Green River, Wyoming, remember? Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer had just gotten home when you decided to make the move. They were all too willing to help out in making the transition from Clearwater County, Alberta, Canada to Green River, Wyoming a smooth one. Instead of lazing around, using their one-month vacation to just relax and rest up from school, they busted their buns in helping you get the apartment that you moved from New York to Wyoming fixed up. After everything was done, you just sat and stared at one of the apartment's walls... just like you are now. The move was over with, everything was done, you grew nervous over what would happen next. It's normal, everyone experiences the jitters after the move's been completed."

She hoped that that was true; she hunched her shoulders, then sighed loudly in an attempt to get over the nervous feeling that had rolled over her after her sons had all left the house, then stood up. The money that she took from the envelope earlier that morning was on the fireplace mantle; she grabbed it then she checked her pockets to see if the house's keys were on her. When she found that they were, she left the house. She was just pushing the key into the door's lock when a heated breeze blew her hair over her shoulders. She shivered. She trembled slightly then she turned around; what she saw after doing so made her heart skip two beats.

"Ma!" the keys that were in her hand fell to the porch's landing; Bile was walking towards her and it looked like he was either carrying or letting Guyunis rest most of his weight on him.

"Bile, what..." that was all she could say; she found herself unable to say anything else. Her legs began to feel like rubber when she saw that Guyunis was grimacing with each step that he took.

"Ma, I think G's dislocated his hip." Bile said.

"I have not!" Guyunis exclaimed. "It's bruised, nothing-k more."

"What happened for his hip to be hurt?" Angel asked. All at once, she was able to speak. She walked over to where Bile and Guyunis were; when she got to them, she quickly threw Guyunis's right arm over her shoulder.

"He says that a car swiped him," Bile said. "He was—"

"A what hit him!"

Angel helped Guyunis up the porch steps then she stopped long enough to gather the keys that she had dropped; with the keys to the house back in her hand, she quickly unlocked and then opened the door. She and Bile guided Guyunis into the house slowly and gently after the door was opened. They took Guyunis to the living room then they slowly sat him down on the sectional couch. Angel left the room when Guyunis was comfortably seated; she was fast in going into the dining room, and then kitchen—a bowl, from one of the kitchen cabinets, was retrieved and then filled with water before she went back to the living room.

Bile and Guyunis were still in the room; Bile was standing by the gas-powered fireplace while Guyunis was still on the couch. She observed that her oldest son looked rather upset, which prompted her to ask him what was wrong. What he told her made her blood boil.

Many of the common stereotypes claimed that redheads were highly or fiery-tempered and highly sexed when, in reality, not all redheads were. She had met many men and women over the years that had red hair that were either as mellow or as quiet as could be so she knew that the stereotype of redheads being highly or fiery-tempered was incorrect; she didn't know much on the aspect of redheads being highly sexed or sex addicts though. She didn't go around, asking if this redheaded human or if that redheaded human was "fire in the bed" or not. For her, the stereotype of a red-haired person being fiery-tempered was correct but she didn't think it had anything to do with the color of her hair. She believed that she had inherited her temper from her father, who she knew had a rather violent temper, and she also believed that his temper was inherited from his father, who had a rather vicious temper that was dangerous and somewhat scary. When her son told her what happened in the store that he and Guyunis went into in Amsterdam, she very nearly exploded. She controlled herself as best she could as he told her what happened.

"Who told you that it was fine to go to Amsterdam, son?" Angel asked her son. She knew that what he had told her was true. If what he had told her wasn't true then why was his right cheek a bruised, dark green color? While Bile had lied to her in the past, he had never lied about something so serious before.

"I went there three days ago... I figured that you was cool with it since you said nothing about my going there after I got home and—"

"I wasn't able to comment on it three days ago, Bile. After working to get the house fixed up, and after doing some heavy-duty shopping, I was tired." Angel replied quickly. She placed the bowl of water down on the coffee table then sat down beside Guyunis. She took a breath in; she said nothing more until after she had calmed down some. "Bile, you know my rule on going off to places that aren't near home."

"Ask permission first."

"Correct. You didn't ask for my permission to go to Amsterdam three days ago and you didn't ask if you could go to Amsterdam today and you also didn't ask if it was okay with me if Guyunis could go with you." Angel said. Bile looked down at his hands, which were folded in front of him. "You ask me the next time you want to go to Amsterdam—don't you go off someplace without telling me where you're going and don't go taking your brothers anywhere without telling me. Here me?"

"Yes, ma."

"Next time you don't, there'll be consequences. I understand that this is a new place for you and I understand that you want to explore a little but be smart and safe in your travels." Angel said.

She gave her oldest son two options—to either go to the dining room or to his room—then she turned her attention towards Guyunis; she knew that her chiding Bile had made him nervous because, when she turned to look at him, he jumped. Bile left the room to do as she had told him to do at the same time that she placed her hand on Guyunis's shoulder; she stood after doing this then waved her hand over the bowl of water that was on the table. A stream of water rose up after she waved her hand over the bowl; she moved the stream of water over to Guyunis's hip then she started to rotate her hands around his hip region. The stream of water, after settling over Guyunis's hip, changed colors—went from being clear to blue then to dark blue before changing to green—as she revolved it around his injury. When the water's color went from green to purple, she swung her hand up. She made the purple-colored water wrap around her hand then she turned; she returned the water that was around her hand to the bowl that was on the table. The purple-colored water made the rest of the water that was in the bowl turn purple for a few seconds then it all went back to being clear again.

"Wh-what was tha-k-t, mum?" Guyunis asked. He hadn't just sat in place, or looked at the wall, when she was working to heal his injured leg; he was watching the entire time. He slowly stretched his left leg before standing up..

"Water Healing—it's a sub-power in the Elemental Water power." Angel explained. Guyunis slowly walked around the living room.

"I had no idea you could to tha-k-t, mum." Guyunis said. "I feel no pain... It's like—"

"It's an advanced move in the Elemental Water power. It can also be done in the Elemental Fire, Ground, and Air powers." Angel said. "You're all healed up now."

"C-can you teach me, mum?" Guyunis asked. While she had taught him how to use some of his powers, she hadn't taught him the power of healing with water.

"I will one day. You will need to get a bit more steady and advanced in your powers before I can." Angel said. Guyunis walked over to her then stopped; he reached into his cargo pants for the money that she gave him earlier that morning. Instead of taking the money back, Angel held her hand up. "You keep that. It's yours—whatever money I give you is yours to keep. You can either save it up or use it on whatever you wish to use it on."

"You sure, mum?" Guyunis asked. He looked down at the fifty euro note for a second before stuffing it back into the pocket that he took it from.

"Yes, that is your money now. You keep it." Angel said. She then stood up from the couch. "I suggest that you go up to your room—read a magazine or something. You and Bile have both had a rough morning."


	8. Chapter 8

Unlike most of her sons, who did all of their bedroom furnishing shopping in their new, resident town's community center, she did most of the house appliance and furnishing shopping in the superregional center that was in the small, nearby town of Durmersheim. The display, that was in the electronics department of the store that she went into, had grabbed her attention rather quickly; the first thing that ran through her head, after that display was seen, was that, of her four biological sons, only one had thought about putting a music player in his duffel bag. She was marvelously proud of Bile for not only letting Guyunis use his music player but for also letting his other brothers, who, while packing several of their CDs in their bags, had forgotten about putting a music player in with their packed things, borrow his music player so they could listen to the music that they had brought along. Bile's music player was used a lot in the last six months; it had used up a lot of batteries but it had made for five happy boys. Other than the one or two squabbles that were held over the device, her boys were fair in sharing it.

The second thing that crossed her mind was the fact that Bile's little music player wasn't going to last very long if it continued to be passed around and used like it had in the last six months; in the week and three days that she and her sons were living in the house that Stefan Leinart had generously purchased for them, her sons had completely forgotten about listening to their music and using that device—sooner or later, they would want to listen to their music and, sooner or later, that music player would succumb to the constant demands that her sons were putting on it. She didn't want her sons fighting over the device and she didn't want them to start pestering Guyunis for his old CD player, that played both mini and normal-sized CDs. Guyunis had also been very open to letting his brothers use his music device but, for the most part, Bile's music player was the most used of the two.

It wasn't just Bile that she was proud of in regards to the music player borrowing; she was really proud of all of her boys—all of them had acted very mature in their music player borrowing. They hadn't hogged the device for too long and they had made a point in asking if either Bile or Guyunis wanted to join-in on the music listening. Most of the time, Bile had said no; whenever Guyunis said yes, the one who had borrowed the music player had asked for his headphones, which he had handed over. The one that asked if he could borrow the music player would then say a spell that'd make the headphones grow so the both of them could listen to the played music together. While Guyunis had no music or music discs to his name, he had listened to a lot of music over the last six months.

The price of the mini stereos was fair—€39.95—but she hadn't been worrying, or even paying any attention, to the unit's price. She was thinking about her boys, and about the fact that they'd probably appreciate having some sort of music device of their own to listen to their music on. Except for the extra special meals that she made for her sons when their birthdays came around, they had really gotten nothing for their birthdays—the thought of getting her sons some late-birthday presents was thick on her mind when she put six of the available mini stereos in the cart that she was pushing along in the store. She was a right happy woman when she purchased them six units. She was still happy over that purchase.

Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer had come home from their planned outings about two hours after Bile and Guyunis returned from their disastrous outing in Amsterdam; she had made her sons wait an hour longer before telling them to look under their beds. There were a lot of surprised yelling's, a lot of oh wow's, and she was given a lot of hugs and kisses after they went up to look under their beds; Guyunis was a bit shy and confused after his late-birthday presents were pulled out from under his bed but he came around to being just as excited as his brothers were.

The mini stereo systems hadn't been the only things that she got for her sons as late-birthday presents; she knew her boys, and their interests, well so, after putting the stereo systems in her cart, she had started looking for other things that they'd like.

The boxes that the refrigerator, the washer and dryer, the stove, and the tv's had all come in were left in the basement; her sons had made use of each of them. They went down to the basement with a razor knife with intentions to make some poster-cuts of the cardboard boxes—with there being so much cardboard just lying around in the basement, she hadn't put up a fuss over their doing that. Her sons, along with using the razor knife safely, had made numerous poster-cuts of the cardboard that was available for them to use. After making what they did, they went up to their rooms with them—as expected, their posters were either glued or taped to what they made; their posters were hung on their bedroom walls afterwards.

One of the posters that was hung on the walls of their rooms had come from her; after purchasing them five posters, she went to one of the superregional center's music stores.

Bile was one who liked loud, noisy music; Lhaklar was one who liked the old classics and R&B music; Hazaar liked rap; and Lazeer had a high interest in Reggae—her youngest son also had an interest in other music genres. Finding him some music was a bit hard but she came through for him. Finding music that Guyunis liked was also hard; while he and Bile had similar music interests, he also seemed to like louder, throatier, grungier sounding music. Two CDs per child were purchased at the store that she went into; judging by the way they reacted after they found their late-birthday presents, she believed that they were all very pleased with what she had bought for them. They had thanked her more than once for their presents then, after the thanking was over, they went back to their bedrooms to set their new stereos up.

Them mini stereos were really being put to some serious use.

"If an earthquake was to happen right now, I'd never know of it." she thought. Immediately after their stereos were set-up, Bile had done a full-house Silencer spell; it was now either he or Lhaklar who did the spell. They were saying that spell all week now. She sort of wished that they'd do the room Silencer spell instead because, at the moment, she could hear every lyric and guitar and bass solo and so on that was in the music that they were listening to. She was currently in the master bedroom; except for the wall behind her, the walls around her were bouncing. She didn't have to ask if her boys had them systems of theirs cranked to full blast—she only had to look at the walls to know that they were. "I should really invent the word Sonquake, definition meaning: an event that happens inside the house after one's sons race about upstairs, or when one's sons turn their music up to a terrifyingly loud level of volume."

It was a little after twelve-noon on the tenth of August; she was feeling the effects of fatigue but she knew that she wouldn't sleep long if she decided to take a nap—with her sons' music being so loud, sleep was just not going to happen. She'd either have to go tell her sons to turn their music down, so she could nap for an hour or two, or she'd have to wait until it was time for everyone to go to bed to sleep. She was very thankful towards the fact that not all of her sons were home; if all five of her sons were home, and if they were all playing their stereos at the same time, she'd not be lying on the bed that she was currently on. Lazeer, after the morning rains stopped, decided to go out to do a little walk along one of the unnamed creeks that ran through their neighborhood; after everything in the house was fixed up, and after everyone had gotten settled in the house, he had started going out to "map the area". For the last seven days, he was going out with a pencil and a long piece of paper; he was making crude drawings of the area's rivers, creeks, streams, forests, and valleys. She didn't know why he was mapping the area; whenever she went to ask him why he was mapping the area's topography, he'd either not tell her or he'd respond by saying that it was just a simple, innocent project that he was really into. Hazaar seemed to be right interested in Lazeer's little project; she had caught the two of them in the living room twice, looking over the map that Lazeer had drawn up. She figured that as long as Lazeer was staying out of trouble, and was going outside instead of staying inside to mope and moan, he was fine.

She didn't know where Lhaklar was; about two hours ago, he asked for her car keys. She handed them over without asking or wondering why he wanted her keys or where he was planning on going with her car.

All four of her biological children drove; she taught them how to drive after they came home from Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. They were all marvelously good drivers... or, according to Lhaklar and Lazeer, most of them were. She had heard things from Lhaklar and Lazeer about how Bile drove—they claimed that he was foot heavy on the pedals and that he cranked the music that he brought along to a very loud level and they also said that he had a habit of speeding when his music was playing. She had warned her oldest son about his driving habits about a hundred and twenty years ago... twice. When his reckless driving continued to happen, she took his driver's license for a week. Although Lhaklar and Lazeer still tattled on their brother about his bad driving habits, it had slowed down. She had to take his driver's license away only once in the past thirty years.

Lhaklar was a pretty good driver. He was very smart and steady behind the wheel. She was confident that her car was safe in his hands. Of her four, biological sons, only two had driver's licenses; Hazaar and Lazeer didn't have a license yet—they had simple learning permits, that were soon to be exchanged for the real licenses. Normally, a learner's permit would run a span of six months to a year; she had talked the folks that ran the Green River, Wyoming Department of Motor Vehicles into giving Hazaar and Lazeer learning permits that ran three years—them three years were nearly up on them permits. They had just four short months left before their learner's permits could be exchanged. Guyunis was the only one of her sons who didn't know how to drive; she had plans to teach him how to drive soon. It was just Bile, Hazaar, and Guyunis who were home; all three of them had their stereos going.

"Oooooh, yeah! I did my time and I want out... So effective—fade—it doesn't cut... The soul is not so vibrant... The reckoning, the sickening... Packaging subversion... Psuedo sacronsanct perversion... Go drill your desserts, go dig your gr—"

"Guyunis!" Angel screamed. She didn't much like the lyrics of that one particular song. He had the music up so loud... She could hear it all loud and clear! "Turn the volume down, Guyunis!"

She didn't say it again; when the walls of her room continued to wobble, and when she continued to hear her sons' music, she got up from her bed then started for the door. Hazaar was the one to help her in putting the master bedroom together; the movers had put the bed that she saw in the catalog that Mr. Leinart had given her to look through and then mark in by the room's one window. The bed's frame had a real oak finish to it—it was a dark brown color. The small, medium-brown oak bedside table, that was to the left of the bed, was another piece that she saw in the catalog; the large waisted ceramic lamp and the basic, two-belled alarm clock, that were on the table's surface, were purchased during her house appliance and furnishing shopping.

Across the room, to her left, sat a medium-brown oak dresser; there was a 30" flat screen tv mounted on the wall above it. The red-brown oak bookcase, that was beside the room's walk-in closet, had nothing on it at the moment. Stefan had purchased the 30" flat screen tv for her on his own accord; the dresser, and the bookcase, had come from the catalog. She had kept the furniture shopping for her bedroom basic—like with the dining room, she hadn't gone crazy when she started looking through the catalog's bedroom section. There were some dark blue curtains hanging before the room's one window and there was a blue botanical comforter set on her bed—those two items were purchased from one of the superregional center's stores. Framed photographs of her and her sons were on the walls of her room; the box, that was in the room's walk-in closet, was nearly empty. It had maybe three or four picture frames in it that she had yet to put up.

She opened the bedroom door then walked out. She turned to go to Guyunis's room, which was to the left of her own, then, when she heard loud cymbal sounds coming from Bile's room, she turned to the right. She went to his room instead. She figured that it was best done this way; she'd go see Bile first then, if Guyunis's music was still being played loud, she'd go see him then she'd go see Hazaar next. After their stereos were turned down, she'd go back to her room; the nap that she needed would be taken next. She'd sleep for a few hours then she'd get up and then go down to start supper. She was now starting to get a headache from all the music that she was hearing; how her boys were able to listen to their music when it was being played so loud without hurting their ears, or getting a headache themselves, was beyond her.

Bile, Guyunis, and Hazaar had decided to listen to some music after Lhaklar went off with her car; before the doors to their rooms were closed, Bile did the full-house Silencer spell. The three had been in their rooms for two, long, hours now. She was very sure that, if that spell wasn't done, the police would of been called. She would of opened the house's front door to find a man—or woman—of the law on the other side. She would of been asked to tone the music down, which she would promise to do. After the lawman—or woman—left, she would of gone upstairs to tell her sons to turn their music down; she would of been embarrassed, and slightly annoyed, and a little bit angry, over the fact that her boys had allowed their music to get to such a loud level. She was sure that Bile was playing Ozzy Osbourne in his room—she could hear the lyrics that the man had wrote and then sang over two thousand years ago. She was also pretty sure that, when she opened her oldest son's bedroom door, her hair would be blown back. She was expecting it so, when it happened, she didn't act but so surprised.

"BILE! TURN THAT DOWN THIS INSTANT!" she screamed after the door to her oldest son's room was opened. Bile shot up from his bed the second he saw her. He ran over to the stereo then, instead of doing as she had told him to in turning it down, he turned Ozzy Osbourne completely off.

"Ma! I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to be but so l—"

"You and your brothers really are trying to bring this house down aren't you?" Angel said. She rubbed her temples with the fingers of her left hand. "I didn't say for you to turn it off. Just drop the volume."

"I'm sorry," Bile said again.

Now that the music was off, her headache started to subside a little; she was able to think more clearly, and she was able to calm down some. Angel shook her head then walked into Bile's bedroom; most of the time, when she went into one of her sons' rooms, she was either returning just-cleaned clothing or was checking up on them when they were sick—she wasn't one of them parents that went into their child's bedroom to inspect or snoop through things and she wasn't one of them parents that liked to pop in for a surprise visit. Not once since the move had she gone into one of her sons' rooms; she knew not a single detail on how their rooms were set-up. She figured that, since she was here, she might as well get a little look-in on how Bile had fixed his room up.

While she was a cool parent, and while she did let her boys express themselves, she did draw the line with some of the things that they had an interest in. She was fine with their hanging posters that showed off their sexuality, and she was fine with their decorating their rooms in crazy or outrageous things, but she didn't let them hang any posters or display anything that showed too much skin; when Lhaklar asked her if he could make the wallet-sized photograph that he had of a fully naked Marilyn Monroe go from being wallet-sized to poster-sized she had said no. While she didn't like the idea of his having a wallet-sized photograph of a naked woman in his wallet she was okay with him having the photograph as long as it stayed small and hidden.

From what she was told, the wallet-sized photograph, that was once poster-sized, had originally been a Polaroid. Her son had found it one day in the trash. He stashed it away after finding it then he took it to someone in their old town that had skills in blowing Polarized photographs and small posters up to a much bigger size. After getting the Polaroid re-sized, he hid it behind his old Uncle Fester poster—where it remained for quite some time; during their residency in Green River, Wyoming, she never noticed it. His father owned the rights of discovering Miss. Monroe, and she owned the rights for the reason why her son still had Miss. Monroe—Tazir refused to give the poster back after their son went to him to ask for it to be returned to him; she gave Lhaklar the suggestion of using his Telepathy to make a smaller version of the poster. Apparently, he did that and, apparently, Bile also had a copy of that same photograph.

"You going to start charging admission for anyone who wants to come into this museum of a room of yours, Biley?" Angel asked.

While all of her sons liked and had an interest in rustic-made furniture, Bile was really the one who owned the title of "rustic furniture junky" in the family. She had a feeling that Bile would be leaving a lot of marks in the sections of the catalog where rustic-made furniture was advertised—that feeling was now being confirmed.

The bed that her son had jumped from was pushed up against the bottom, right corner of the room; it had a rustic log frame to it. The bed's bedding had multi-gray and black stereo and speaker designs on it; the two pillow cases, that were in the set that her son had purchased during his first trip to Amsterdam, had just multi-gray and black speaker designs on them. The rustic, pallet wood bedside table, that was beside the bed, had one drawer and a cubby-space on it. Her son's skull-themed alarm clock was on the table's surface; the spine lamp, that her son saw in the catalog, was right behind the clock—while he spoke none to his brothers on what the three lamps, that he saw in the catalog, looked like he had spoken to her on them a great deal. The lamp that was behind her son's alarm clock was given a false-gold paint-job; it was mostly made of a flexible plastic material that was molded to look like a human spinal column. The lamp's light fixture was round and sturdy; it had a single, round bulb in it. The lamp's base was like that of a human pelvis.

The first item that was brought into her son's room was the rustic, mountain pine dresser that had four drawers on it; the movers had placed that piece of furniture in the room's upper, left corner. After that piece of furniture was placed in the room, the movers went down to retrieve the 30" flat screen tv that Mr. Leinart had generously purchased for her son—like most of the tv's that Mr. Leinart had purchased for her family, it was mounted on the wall above her son's dresser. After the tv was mounted on the wall, the movers went down to get the bed and then the bedside table; after them two pieces of furniture were put in Bile's room, the movers went back down to retrieve the rustic, aspen wood bookcase that had five shelves on it. Her son had gotten the movers to place the bookcase across from the foot of his bed.

The final piece of furniture that the movers brought into the room was the corner desk with its matching chair—that was in the corner that was opposite the one that her son's bed was against. The corner desk only had three legs but it was pretty sturdy; Bile had said that he might like to do some model building from time to time, which was why he had asked for the desk. After the movers placed the corner desk and its matching chair down, they went down to retrieve the box that contained the smaller things that her son had seen and then marked in the catalog—the spine lamp, the skull-themed alarm clock, and the other two lamps that her son had asked for were in that box.

"What do you suggest I charge for admission, ma?" her son asked her. "A dollar-twelve? Two dollars?"

"A room-museum of this magnitude calls for a three-dollar admission fee, Biley." Angel replied.

It was all the hunting trophies that her son had collected over the last six months that made the room look like a museum. All of his hunting trophies were displayed; they were either on his bookcase or on one of the room's walls. Her son's rustic, aspen wood bookcase was nearly dominated by his hunting trophies; the first item that was on the bookcase's top shelf was the preserved North American Porcupine, an animal that had hollow spines, or quills, on its back and sides and that was mostly dark brown or black in color. That animal, if she recalled correctly, was a difficult one for her son to collect. Bile was on his way back to the Hobo Cave when he happened on it; since he had a wish to not return to the cave empty-handed, he decided to hunt the animal. After the animal was killed, he reached down to grab it—she had spent hours plucking the creature's quills from her son's right hand and wrist after he returned to their then-resident cave. Her son's hand was plenty sore for nearly a week after he brought the Porcupine back. Since the Porcupine was a little on the thin side, she had suggested that he either take it to one of the taxidermists that were in the town that was nearest their cave or throw it out; even with his hand being sore, he went to Manitou Springs the day after he killed the animal. She had been, and she still was, impressed with the taxidermist's work; the stuffed Porcupine, along with being very well preserved, almost looked like it was still alive.

The Muskrat skull, that was beside the stuffed Porcupine, wasn't a hunting trophy; Bile had found it one day while out on a walk. He had liked it enough to pick it up. He had nabbed a live Muskrat the day after and, since tat animal was small, and since she wasn't able to make a meal out of it—the animal had weighed only four pounds... there had been no way to make a meal for a family of six from an animal that weighed four pounds—, he went straight back to the same taxidermist that stuffed his North American Porcupine to get the Muskrat preserved and then stuffed. The two juvenile Mountain Lion skulls, that were on top of the bookcase, were facing one another; Bile did battle with the two animals one night in March. Both of the animals were barely three years old; they were causing trouble for her and her family—besides wanting to come into their then-resident cave, the animals had also tried to make-off with several of their things... and they also tried to claim Hazaar as a meal.

The mini stereo was on the bookcase's second shelf; to the left of the stereo were her son's magazines. Her son's CDs were to the right of the stereo system—most of his music collection was on Moas; he had just seventeen CDs to his name right now. The fact that her son hadn't used any of the money that she gave him nine days ago on new CDs was surprising to her—while he did have a lot of music to listen to on them seventeen CDs, she was surprised that he hadn't purchased any music to take the place of the music that he was forced to leave behind. Curiously, the bookcase's third shelf was empty. The shelf that was under the empty one was pretty full.

She struggled to not laugh when her eyes fell on the items that were on the fourth shelf of her son's bookcase. The first thing that was on the fourth shelf of the bookcase was a stuffed American hog-nosed Skunk... boy did she remember all of what unfolded after her son returned to the Hobo Cave with it! Bile wasn't hunting when he nabbed the animal. He was just walking about, taking in the sights and sounds of the area where they were living. The skunk was disturbed during his walk; the natural reaction from the animal was to turn around and then jerk its tail up. Bile had no more come upon the animal before finding himself being sprayed. From what she was able to gather from him later on, after the encounter happened, he had grown angry over the animal spraying him. From what she was told, Bile had charged at the skunk. When he picked the animal up, he had accidentally broke its neck—he had returned to the cave very crestfallen; he was ashamed of himself for what he did.

She went into town for the tomato sauce an hour after he returned to the cave; upon her return, she got down to business in making a small hole appear beside the cave. She had filled that hole with the tomato sauce then Bile had gotten in. All while tending the removal of the skull-smell from himself, he had cried and relayed all of what happened with the animal.

Skunks only sent their stinky sprays out in defense and, sadly, the skunk that sprayed him had only sprayed him because it saw him as a threat. After evicting the smell from himself, and after calming down, he had asked if he could go to the nearest town to find a taxidermist—he had wanted to get the skunk stuffed. She had said that he could; he went to do that an hour or so after ridding himself of the skunk-smell. The skunk that was on the fourth shelf of her son's bookcase was a right pretty animal; it had a single, broad white stripe going down its back that started from the top of its head and then ended at the tip of its tail. The rest of the animal was, naturally, black. The fur of the stuffed skunk was very soft. The nose was pink. The animal had some right long front claws. The stuffed skunk was placed on the far end of the bookcase's fourth shelf; her son had placed his stuffed juvenile Turkey beside it and, beside the stuffed Turkey, was his preserved Ring-tailed cat.

She'd be a big liar if she went around saying that she wasn't shocked when he brought that animal back to their then-resident cave. She had thought that the Ring-tailed cat was extinct but, from what her sons had said, there were plenty roaming the area surrounding their cave. The animal that Bile brought into their cave had been, and was still, right pretty. The animal had buff to dark brown fur that had white underparts; it had a flashy black and white tail that had between fourteen and sixteen black and white stripes on it. The tail of his stuffed Ring-tailed cat was longer than that of the rest of the animal; the animal looked more like one of them Ring-tailed lemur's than it did a cat. The last item that was on the bookcase was the bigger of his smaller hunting trophies—it was a complete bear skull. On the last day of their being in Colorado, Bile had happened on a Black bear. He had decided that not only would the skull be a good add to his collection but so would the fur. He also knew that the meat from the bear would keep them going for a while. Bile had the Black bear's pelt stretched across the base of his bed's frame.

"I see that you've also included your Mountain Goat and Hartebeest heads in your museum, son." Angel said after seeing the two trophies that were on the wall, to the left of the bedroom door.

"They cost a quarter extra for viewing, ma." Bile winked his left eye.

The Mountain Goat head, that was on the wall, above the room's light switch, was so finely preserved that she nearly ducked out of the room to see if the rest of the animal was barring the upstairs hallway. Bile did a lot of hiking over mountainous terrain about a week before they were forced to leave Colorado for Africa; after finding a herd of more than nine animals, he got himself ready for a hunt. The animal that he singled out, and that his ground spear became embedded in, had no more fallen before being grabbed and then whisked to the taxidermist in Boulder, Colorado. The man who removed the head from the animal's body had, per request of her son, returned the body to her son; while he cleaned, preserved, and then mounted the head on a piece of mahogany wood, they feasted on the animal's meat. Bile had shown the preserved head of the Mountain Goat to her and his brothers six days later. The head, face, and neck were covered in thick, white fur; the animal had a fluffy, white beard and black eyes. The horns were black, and were about ten inches long; it looked like her son was taking very good care of this trophy—along with there not being a hair out of place on it, the horns were right shiny.

Beside the preserved Mountain Goat head was a preserved Hartebeest head. On the last day of their being in Africa, Bile had decided to head out to find a herd of Hartebeest—an antelope species that had come by hard times; it had once roamed Africa in the thousands but, thanks to the ever-changing temperatures that Africa had faced over the last twenty-two hundred years, and due to the increase in poaching, it had struggled. There were now just twenty-four hundred animals in the wild today. After a few hours worth of hiking, Bile had found a herd of about three hundred animals grazing in a little valley. He singled one of the older animals out then he threw his ground spear. The animal fell on the spot; along with being old, it was exhausted after being pursued by Hyenas and Lions for most of the day. Her son had barely gotten to it before the Hyenas and Lions did. He cut the head and neck free of the animal himself then he took it to a taxidermist in Europe for its preservation and mounting. The face of the preserved Hartebeest head was long; the entire animal was a light and dull sandy-brown color. The preserved Hartebeest's horns curved in an S-shaped pattern; the tips of both horns curved inwards. The horns that were on the preserved head had a reach of twenty-four inches. Her son seemed to be taking very good care of this hunting trophy too; the head's fur was slick and shiny and it looked like the horns were recently polished.

"And you also put your horn collection up as well." Angel said after seeing the five pairs of Antelope horns that her son had collected while they were in Africa.

"Yes ma'am, my room wouldn't be complete without them." Bile said proudly.

The question of whether or not her son was taking care of his hunting trophies didn't need to be asked; she only needed to look at her son's hunting trophies to know that he was—even the trophies that were on his bookcase had a good shine to them. The horns, that he hung around his room's one window, were no exception—each had a glow to them and none of them were broken or cracked.

The heavy and slightly spiraled horns of the Bongo Antelope were hung on the left side of her son's bedroom window; the horns were long and pretty massive. They had one and a half twists to them and they were about thirty-one inches long. The Nyala Antelope horns were hung above them; they twisted twice and were a dark brown color. The tips of the horns were yellow. Bile had hung his Bontebok rack on the right side of his bedroom window; along with having clear rings on them, and having a reach of nearly twenty inches, they were lyre-shaped. The Kudu rack, that was underneath the Bontebok horns, was right impressive; the horns were of delicate fashion—they were right slender and fragile to the naked eye. The Kudu rack was a nice, dark brown color; along with having two and a half twists to them, they both had a length of about twenty-eight inches. The tips of the horns were white. A set of simple Wildebeest horns hung above the window; her son had found them one day while taking a simple walk.

After looking at her son's horn collection, Angel shook her head then started taking in the other things that were in her son's room. There was a dark brown, Tuareg rug beside her son's bed; she had found herself being surprised when Bile returned to the Hobo cave with it—even though it was found in one of Colorado's dumps, it was rather expensive! The poster, that was above Bile's headboard, was of Megan Fox—it was one of them black and white types. Megan Fox was standing in the poster's center; she was wearing a black and white bikini, that had bead and lace designs on it. Ms. Fox's hair had a tousled look to it; she had a rather seductive expression on her face. The poster that was on the wall above the side of her son's bed was another black and white one; Elizabeth Taylor, who was wearing a white, one-piece bathing suit, was in it. Due to how the straps on the bra-piece falling down from her shoulders a bit, some cleavage could be seen. Miss. Taylor was down, on her knees, in the ocean's tide; she had a mysterious and sultry look on her face. The poster that she purchased as a late-birthday present for her son was beside the Elizabeth Taylor one; along with being a color-poster, it had an unknown female model in it that was lying down on purple silk. The model was wearing nothing more than a pair of purple and black lace bra and panties.

"And I see that you've put your lamps up too," Angel said after she saw the five lamps that were on a long, rustic hickory wood bookcase that had two shelves on it. Two days after her son's disastrous trip to Amsterdam occurred, she went out to get it for him; the woman that owned Greta's Tweedehandswinkel had tracked her number down exactly one day after she brought the bookcase home for her son. Mrs. Greta Terfel had apologized for her employee's assault on her son then she offered to sell her the piece that her son was looking at before he was assaulted for half-price. While she had accepted the woman's apology, she had politely turned the woman's offer down.

A giant lava lamp, that had red fluid in it, was on the far end of the bookcase; it was plugged in so there were great, red-orange blobs floating around in the fixture. Another lava lamp, this one being curiously called a Jack-O-Bats Lava Lamp, was beside the giant lava lamp. The "Jack-O-Bats Lava Lamp" was about seventeen inches tall and about six inches wide; it had resin-molded pumpkin and bat designs on its base and on the topper piece. There was a dark yellow and orange liquid in the lamp's globe. A skull-shaped plasma lamp was beside the Jack-O-Bats Lava lamp; at the moment, the two lamps were off but she could see that they were plugged into the wall socket that was behind the two-shelf bookcase. Bile had purchased the giant lava lamp, the Jack-O-Bats lamp, and the skull-shaped plasma lamp in Amsterdam nine days ago; the lamps that followed them three were the other two lamps that her son had seen and then marked in the catalog that he was given. The lamp that was beside the skull-shaped plasma lamp had a Coyote skull around a bulb; the skull was all lit up at the moment, which she did think was cool. The lamp that was beside the Coyote skull one was one of them LED types; it had two sculpted dragons standing guard over a mood-sensitive crystal ball that was currently a lit-up blue color—she guessed that the color symbolized calmness.

"I don't mind you listening to your music, Bile. Just down the volume some please—with you, Hazaar, and Guyunis all having your music up to high-level volume, it feels like I'm in the middle of a quake." Angel said.

"Okay ma." Bile replied.

She turned and then left her oldest son's room; while closing the room's door, she noticed that the music, that was coming from Guyunis's room, had stopped. Either Guyunis had decided to give his ears a breather or he was in-between switching CDs. While she couldn't hear Guyunis's music anymore, she could hear Hazaar's loud and clear—no lyrics were being heard; it was just a lot of bass and drumming action that she was hearing. It was almost like Hazaar was listening to a band that was all bass and drum with no rhythm or electric guitar or leader singer involved.

After hearing Hazaar's music, Angel went to the door that was across from Guyunis's own—the door had one of them vintage aluminum signs on it that had a _No Trespassing_ slogan on it. There was a very on-guard Doberman Pincher underneath the _No Trespassing_ slogan; underneath the Doberman Pincher, there was another slogan that said _Attack Dog on Premises_. The sign was screwed into the door four days ago; Hazaar had purchased it from one of the small shops in town. She had said not a thing on the sign as she knew that it was just something that her son was using to express his "Tough-Guy" personality—Hazaar wouldn't hurt her or any of his brothers if they decided to go into his bedroom and there was no Doberman Pincher in the house and her son didn't own a Doberman Pincher.

Angel grabbed and then twisted the door knob; when she pushed Hazaar's bedroom door in, she felt the same sensation of having her hair blown back. Due to Hazaar's music being so loud, her ears were whistling and popping. Angel, after rushing into the room that was thirdborn son's, ran straight over to where the mini stereo was. When she got to the stereo, she twisted the volume dial down six levels before turning to look at her startled son.

"Are you trying to make blood come out from your ears, Hazaar?" she asked. The headache, that had started to go away after Bile shut his music off, started to return with a nasty vengeance.

"I... I didn't know it was that loud, momma." Hazaar said weakly.

"Don't give me that—you had this thing turned to fifteen, which is the highest level on this stereo." Angel said.

"Okay, how about I was just really into the music?" Hazaar said. He sat up on the bed that he was lying on. Angel saw that he was reading one of his magazines while listening to his music.

"You keep this thing down," Angel pointed at the mini stereo fiercely. "No more, Hazie! Level seven in the volume is fine—don't damage your ears, or destroy your stereo."

Hazaar was a very different individual than Bile—he liked very different things but that was okay; he and Bile weren't suppose to be or act the same. If they liked all the same things, they'd be near twin-like and she, honestly, was glad that they weren't. Having one Bile was enough for her, the same went for having one Lhaklar, Guyunis, Hazaar, and Lazeer. The bed that her thirdborn son was sitting on was in the center of the room; the bed's frame was completely encased in a faux-brown leather material that was right smooth. Her son had wasted no time in making a check next to the picture that was in the catalog that Mr. Leinart had given him. The multi-blue and black comforter, that was on the bed, had white and yellow lightning bolts on it; the fitted and flat sheet matched the comforter, as did the pillow cases. The two pillows, that were at the head of her son's bed, were rectangular; Hazaar had purchased the comforter set, the pillows, and the dark blue fleece blanket—which he purchased separately; the bed set that he purchased hadn't come with a fleece blanket included—from one of the stores that were in their new town's community center.

The dark brown 'Akita' walnut bedside table, that was beside her son's bed, had a small storage space on it; it didn't have any drawers or doors on it. One of them Himalayan Salt lamps was on the table's surface—Hazaar had told her more than once that he had based his decision on getting the lamp on the description that was the catalog. The description was very detailed; according to him, the photograph, that was beside the description, wasn't a good one. The lamp that was on his side table looked like a crystallized rock; it was lit up a multi-orange, yellow, and red color, which she did think was rather cool. There was a vintage style locomotive model alarm clock beside the lamp; the locomotive-part of the clock was made to look like one of them Steam engines that were used from 1890 to 1910. The clock-part of the clock was on the locomotive's cab. Angel knew well that her thirdborn liked trains so, when she saw the clock in the catalog, she knew that he would ask for it—it had Hazaar's name written all over it.

The simple brown dresser, that had five drawers on it, was against the wall that was to the right of the bed; the 30" flat screen tv, that Stefan Leinart had purchased for her son, was mounted on the wall above it. The tv's remote was on the dresser's top. The dark brown espresso bookcase, that had four shelves on it, was to the left of her son's bed; the movers had placed it between the room's closet and the room's upper left corner. The four-legged corner desk, and its matching chair, was the final furniture items that her son had seen and then marked in the catalog; the corner desk, and its chair, were placed against the room's bottom left corner. Hazaar was one who built a lot of models, specifically of trains and spaceships; she had never seen him do car or boat models and she had never seen him build models of animals—both of the extinct and current-living variety.

"And, much like Bile's bookcase, Hazaar's bookcase is nearly fully dominated by hunting trophies." Angel thought as she started to take in all of what was on her thirdborn son's bookcase.

His room, while not looking like Bile's, had all of his hunting trophies in it; they were either on his bookcase or were scattered around the room in odd places.

Mounted above the bed was a preserved Pronghorn Antelope head; the skull of a bull was beside it—while the skull was found one day when he was walking around one of Colorado's deserted towns, the Pronghorn Antelope head was a trophy from one of his hunts. The Pronghorn Antelope head had once sat on the neck of a bull Antelope; the preserved animal's horns were composed of a slender, laterally flattened blade of bone that had once grown out from the frontal bones of the animal's skull. The pronged horn structure had given the animal its name. Hazaar had asked the taxidermist that he took the animal to if he could keep the animal's hooves; the taxidermist had done just that. All four of the hooves were on the bookcase's top shelf.

There was a stuffed Ruffled Grouse, a bird that was built much like a chicken, but that had multi-gray feathers and scales on their bodies and no spurs on their feet, beside the Pronghorn hooves and, beside the Ruffled Grouse, was the skull of a Giant forest hog piglet. Her son had come across the skull while out on a walk one day in Africa.

The bookcase's second shelf had the mini stereo on it; Hazaar had placed his magazine editions, and his fifteen CDs, on either side of it. There was nothing else on that shelf; the shelf that was under that one was empty while the one that was under that one had one of the most weirdest—yet most unique—trophies on it. There was the preserved Warthog piglet in a jar; Hazaar had found the piglet on the same day that he found the piglet skull. He claimed that it was lying all curled up under a bush; he had decided to self-preserve it and boy was he successful in doing so. Hazaar had thoroughly dried the Warthog piglet before letting it become wet again; he had dried it twice more before finally burying it under a few feet of sand that was near their then-resident cave in Egypt. When the piglet was exhumed a week later, he had found it perfectly preserved. Beside the preserved Warthog piglet was a perfectly preserved head of a Vervet money; the fur that was around the monkey's face was mostly grizzled-gray while the face was all black. There was a tinge of white hair around the face. Hazaar had actually wanted to preserve the entire animal; before he was able to get to it after it fell from the tree that it was on, a group of Chimpanzees had happened on it. He was only able to collect the animal's head. He had a fully preserved Mongoose beside the preserved Vervet monkey head; he nabbed the animal by simply dropping on it. Along with being long and lean, the preserved Mongoose was a tawny-brown color. The eyes, that were in the animal's face, were narrow; there were ovular pupils in the center of both of its eyes. The Mongoose was the last item on the shelf but it wasn't the final hunting trophy that was in her thirdborn son's room.

"That River hog still looks great even after being in storage for nearly a month." she thought after seeing the item that was at the foot of her son's bed.

It was the biggest damn Red river hog that she had ever seen! She was surprised that her son had come out from his battle with the hog unscathed because the hog was huge, and it had some good-sized weapons on it that could well of hurt her son. Hazaar had stalked the animal, and its two sows, for nearly an hour before springing out into the open. According to her son, after his ground spear missed the male animal by "mere inches", all three charged him; after they did that, he threw his fists at the ground then watched as they fell into the hole that he created. After the three animals were in the hole, he went to work in throwing ground spear after ground spear at them. From what he told her, the sows fell fast while the boar took a "little while" to bring down—he actually jumped into the hole to off the hog after the two sows were down. They ate the meat and organs from the two sows while the entire boar was being worked on—Hazaar took it to the same taxidermist that did the work on Bile's Hartebeest head.

The preserved animal, that was mounted on a piece of brown wood, had striking red fur. Its legs were black; there was a tufted white stripe going along its spine. The animal also had tufted ears. The preserved specimen had white markings around its eyes and on its cheeks and jaws; the rest of the animal's face was black. The animal had very recognizable humps on both sides of its snout and it also had two small, but very sharp, tusks. The preserved Red river hog was approximately sixty inches long; it stood about thirty-one inches tall.

Beside the Red river hog was a preserved Klipspringer; Hazaar had captured four of the twenty-two inch animals—which were one of the smallest species of antelope in Africa. The animal that he had gotten preserved, stuffed, and then mounted on a piece of bark wood was of the female gender; she had a thick, speckled "salt and pepper" coat of an almost olive shade. The horns that were on her head were just four inches long.

The preserved animal, that was beside the dresser, was probably her son's favorite. On the last week of their being in Africa, he went out to look for a herd of Impala—instead of finding a herd of Impala, he happened on a lone Brown hyena that had an injury to its back left leg. He threw a ground spear at it then ran off—the Hyena might of been injured but it still had a lot of fight left in it. From what her son had told her, the Hyena had actually jumped on him after chasing him a hundred feet. Hazaar claimed that he had offed the animal by thrusting his hunting knife into its chest. The preserved Brown hyena was fifty-five inches in both head and body length; it had long and shaggy hair that was a combination of brown, dark brown, and gray. The hair that was on the animal's neck and back was twelve inches long.

"Your posters and signs are all up I see." Angel said.

"The big, aluminum one gave me grief when I was putting it up." Hazaar replied. "It kept falling after I put it on the wall. I had to screw it to the wall for it to stay up."

The poster, that was on her son's closet door, had all sorts of spaceships on it that were sent into space thousands of years ago. The poster that was to the left of the closet was similar but, instead of real or historical spaceships, it had fictional spaceships—like the Millennium Falcon, the Tardis, and the Voyager—on it. The poster that she had gotten for him as a late-birthday present was screwed to the back of her son's bedroom door; it was of Eliza Gonzalez, from the tv series From Dusk Til Dawn, which ran from March 2014 to the early part of 2019. Miss. Gonzalez was wearing a right showy brown bikini; the necklace, that was hanging from around her neck, had three circular topaz stones in it. The poster was really a blown-up still from the show—Miss. Gonzalez was covered in blood; her vampire fangs could be seen because her mouth was open in a snarl. Like Bile, Hazaar had taped all of his posters to some poster-cut cardboard pieces so they'd stay straight on the walls that they were put on.

The aluminum sign, that was screwed to the wall, that was to the left of the bedroom door, said _You Are Being Monitored_ ; there were two stick figures running above the saying. The second stick figure had a computer monitor in its arms. The large aluminum sign, that her son had said had given him trouble, was to the right of the bedroom door; it had a cartoon baby on it that had a full diaper. The sign's caption said that _A boss is like a diaper... Always on your ass, and usually full of_ —there was a little arrow behind the word _of_ pointing at the full diaper of the cartoon baby. The aluminum sign, that was beside that one, was made to like a comic; there were three kids sitting on a bench in front of an office that had the word Principal on the glass of the door. All of the kids that were on the sign had gotten into some sort of trouble. The quote, that was above the grumpy, blonde-haired girl character, said _I said the "S-H" word_ while the quote that was above the grumpy, hipster-like boy character said _I said the "F" word_. There was a nervous, skinny kid beside the hipster-like character that had a quote above him saying _I said "Christmas"._

The poster that was tacked to the short-section of wall that was between her son's bookcase and closet had two trains on it; the trains, that were on the poster, were heading for a head-on collision. The last item that Angel took in was the synthetic, charcoal gray-colored shag rug that was on floor beside her son's bed. Hazaar had surprised her by saying that he had found it in one of Boulder, Colorado's dumps. The rug was in very fine shape, and it looked to be worth quite a lot of money; why someone would throw out a perfectly good rug was beyond her.

"I'm surprised that you haven't gone out to buy any models yet, Hazie." Angel said.

"I have two in the closet," Hazaar said. "I can't do them yet... I need to get the brushes, the glue, and the paints before I can."

"You can remember to get beads, feathers, and a metal rod to do your hair with but you can't remember brushes, paints, and model glue?"

"I keep forgetting." Hazaar looked down in shame.

"Well, the next time you head out on the t..." Angel stopped short when she saw the ceramic ashtray, that her son had just slid under his pillows. She only needed to see that ashtray to know that her son was smoking in the house. That just infuriated her. "What did I tell you five nights ago, Hazaar? I said no smoking and I meant it!"

Even if she wasn't a cool mom, or let them do as they wanted to do while being under the shields—smoke their smokes; read their dirty magazines; go out to hunt, or fish; and walk about unsupervised in the towns and cities that were safely behind the shields—, they'd still feel that same love for her. That love that was so scary, and that had no definition to it... That love that made them, in some ways, mama's boys, and that caused them to see their mother in a much better, higher way than the humans saw her—to the humans, she was their heroine while, to them, she was like a Goddess.

Five nights ago, he, Lhaklar, and Guyunis had decided to go cheer up Bile. The fact of his being run out of a store in Amsterdam, and that he was assaulted before being run out of the store, was kept from them by their mother. After finding out what they had, they had decided to go to Bile's room and then help Bile feel better. The idea of their going to Bile's bedroom, to have a private, in-house smoke, was brought up... they did it. He, Lhaklar, and Guyunis—Lazeer was too busy working on his map to go across the hall for an hour or two to cheer Bile up; Guyunis had gladly taken his place—grabbed the black ceramic ashtrays, that they found in one of Boulder, Colorado's dumps, then they made the trek over to see their brother.

Bile had enjoyed the company; they smoked around three cigarettes, and then a joint each, before their mother came upstairs. She only had to smell the air that was on the second level of the house to know that they were smoking; after smelling what she had, she demanded that they all come out from Bile's room, which they had. A twenty-minute lecture on why she didn't want them smoking in the house had happened after they left Bile's room; they were looking at their feet the entire time. Their mother didn't want them to stain the walls in the house with their cigarette smoke and she didn't want them to make anything in the house start smelling of smoke and she didn't want the house to go up in flames because one of them fell asleep while smoking—they could smoke but only outside; smoking was absolutely off-limits inside the house.

Sadly, he had just been caught breaking one of her rules. He had smoked two Marlboro's while listening to some tunes on the killer stereo system that his momma had gotten for him as a late-birthday present then he grabbed his August edition of Playboy; he had just opened the magazine when his mother entered his room. He had tried to hide the ashtray; after she walked into his room, he pulled his legs up to hide it then, when she started to engage him in conversation, he tried to pull a fast one by slyly slipping it under his pillows. His momma, like all mommas, had good eyes and a good nose on her so, even while reaching his hand back to slide the ashtray under the pillows, he knew that she would notice it. There was no way in hell that he'd shoo his momma from his bedroom; not only was that rude, and not only would that make her think that something was up, but that might also hurt her feelings and he didn't want to do that. He loved his momma... She was his whole world.

"Do you want me to say that none of you can smoke? Are you trying to piss me off, young man?" his mother was asking him.

"Uh-uh," Hazaar shook his head. "I f-forgot... I'm sorry, I only smoked two c—"

"It doesn't matter how many you smoke inside. Smoking causes stains in the walls, and in the ceiling, and it will cause problems later on with the AC, and with the electrical appliances. You want that to happen? You want this place to start smelling of smoke?"

"No,"

"This is strike two, one more and not only are you grounded but none of you will be allowed to smoke anymore." his mother gave him that I'm-Serious look; he swallowed, then nodded his head, then mumbled his apology again before getting up to take the ashtray to her.

Angel, after taking the ashtray from her son, left the room; since she heard no music coming from Guyunis's room, she decided to go to her room and then take the nap that she really needed to take. The headache, that had started to subside after Bile turned his music off, and that had started to come back with a vengeance after she went into Hazaar's room, had grown worse. It was really starting to hurt her now; along with her temples throbbing, it felt like her brain wanted to burst right out from her skull!


	9. Chapter 9

_From the Bahamas The Bahama Journal, August 12, 4100 (Page 1)  
_ _Caribbean Bound—Thousands Flee After Shields Removed from the Americas_

 _Is it possible—has the ancient one in the Americas finally gotten his fill of us and of our sleepy, little planet? That is the question on the minds of millions. The reason behind this mass-made question lies in what happened two days ago, when the shields, that our planet's heroine, Angel Irene, put up over two thousand years ago, were dropped by the very man who took control of the North and South American continents over three months ago—thousands of Floridians, Texans, Louisianians, Alabamians, and Mississippians were allowed to race for the beaches and then reach the awaiting boats that were docked in jellyfish, shark, and other ocean-life encrusted waters almost a week prior to the shields' downing. Many of the swimmers that reached the awaiting boats claim that they ran right past Master Vile—the alien being that claims ownership of our sleepy, little planet—and that he didn't do anything to stop them from either reaching the beaches or swimming out to the awaiting boats._

 _"After he downed the shields, he just stood there... doing nothing as we ran for the beaches. Even when we started swimming for the boats, he did nothing—he just stood there and watched us as we escaped him." Corey Taylor, a Florida resident who swam to a boat that was a hundred yards away from shore, said._

 _"He laughed as we ran for the boats, it was sick! The man sickens me... he actually taunted my five-year old daughter—he said for her to hurry up before the sand monsters start nipping at everyone's heels." Sally Mueller, another Florida resident who ran past the evil warlock with her family to the safety of the beaches, and then the open ocean, said._

 _On estimate, over three thousand civilians from Florida, Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, and Mississippi were rescued by the awaiting boats. The first thousand that were rescued were quickly taken to one of the islands that are in the Caribbean; the boats returned to the beaches twice more. When they returned for a fourth rescue, they found that a ring of green energy was around the coastlines. Hundreds of people have been reported as being behind the energy ring, all trying to reach the beaches but all being barred by monsters of lizard or goat-like form. Master Vile was said to not be in the area after the boats returned for a fourth attempt in helping escapees get away from the Americas; after an hour's worth of waiting to see if the green energy ring would be dropped, the captains of the boats had no choice but to turn back and head for home. The question on why Master Vile, the evil warlock and warlord who happened on a way into the shields, that were formerly keeping civilians safe in the Americas, let over three thousand people reach the safety of the Caribbean islands is still not answered. The three thousand, three hundred, and ninety-three people who reached the safety of Cuba and the Bahamas have been helped into modest hotel rooms._

The paper, after being read, was dropped from eye-level and then thrown onto a brown table that had seen better days. It fell on a heap of other newspapers; all coming from either the Caribbean islands or from the American continents. All of the papers had some sort of article in them about the three thousand, three hundred, and ninety-three people who had reached the safety of the island nations of Cuba and the Bahamas; the reader had read through all of them before tossing them onto the table, like he had just done with the paper that he had just gotten through reading. A black coffee cup, that had Gothic designs on its rim, was just inches from the pile of newspapers; it had a brew in it that no one human would dare to drink. A steam rose up from the cup that was a near-dark green color; the cup's contents were putrid, but the being, that was seated before the dilapidated table, acted like the smell was nothing to him. In one swoop of his large hand, the being grabbed the cup from the table by its handle. The being slurped the cup's gooey, nauseating contents noisily before throwing his head back. He drank the rest of what was in the cup in one swallow before placing it back on its matching coaster.

"Is that all the known papers that were published in the last twenty-four hours?" the newspaper reader asked his servant, who was standing behind him.

"Yessir." the servant, a creature who looked like a cross between a Scottish Terrier and a Rat, who had brown fur that was going gray around the edges of his muzzle and around his eyes, replied quickly.

"For the past week I have noticed something odd with the papers," the one who had just finished his nauseating drink made no movement; he simply sat in the chair that was before the table. "Them papers from the last twenty-four hours just gave me the clue to that oddity."

His employer suddenly stood from his chair; his full height of six foot, five inches made his five foot stature look smaller than usual—he, Lynster Purlachi, a Claydo from the very distant planet of Claydoious, looked downright puny in comparison to him. His hands were behind his back; he was wringing the bands of his apron tightly in both fear and nervousness. The past forty-eight hours hadn't been pleasant for him, or for his four co-workers who were also ordered to teleport to the planet after their employer found a way into the shields. Vile Vile, who demanded that all outside of his family call him Master Vile, had happened on this area forty-eight hours ago while out on one of his beach runs. He saw the secluded little bungalow twice while on his run; after that second sighting occurred, he had decided that a change in scenery was needed for him. The bungalow had a For Sale sign in front of it; his employer had ripped it up before going on to look at the building. He had moved in after giving it a once-over.

It was a real dinky shack; Lynster was surprised that his employer would choose such a place to reside in while he continued to work on the government of the two continents that he had control of. He guessed that the bungalow was better than the building that he, his four co-workers, and their employer had resided in for four months—while the building was big, it was very brightly decorated... His employer was constantly complaining about it! He had said that it was too white and bright and cheery—which it was. Lynster thought their new station was a little better; he hated the fact that the sand was so pristine white but the sky above made things a bit better—a gray sheet had greeted the day; there were now a couple of dark gray clouds drifting about in that gray sheet. The ocean, that was a hundred yards away, was very choppy; the spray, that came up onto the beach, was white while the water beyond the waves was blue-gray—he liked that too. He preferred a choppy ocean over one that was both very blue, peaceful, and that had an occasional wave to it.

The bungalow that his employer had moved into was surrounded on three sides by tall palm trees; the black wicker chair, that had a black and cream striped cushion in its seat, and the dilapidated, brown-colored table were placed underneath one of the trees. Those two items had come from his employer's palace, that was back home on Gamma Vile; he had specifically ordered for them to be retrieved and then placed where they were. There was no porch to the building; the sand just rolled up to the front door. The building had no living room or even a bathroom in it. It just had a single, basic kitchen and one bedroom—which took up much of the space in the building. There were four windows on the residence; two in the kitchen, that were open, and two in the one bedroom, which were also open. The large bed, that was already in the residence, had a canopy around it—which his employer had kept up. The small, mahogany-colored dresser, that had three drawers on it, had also come with the building; his employer had thrown all of his clothing in it right after moving into the building. The bungalow's small kitchen had a two-burner hot plate and small refrigerator in it; the kitchen's three cabinets were pretty well-stocked with his employer's favorite eats.

Yesterday, after making the bed, Lynster had wondered why his employer had kept the ugly canopy up. His employer had never really been one for bed canopies and this one particular canopy was of thin material—it was also white. He had not dared to open his mouth to ask his employer why he had kept the canopy; he had just stood before the bungalow after making the bed. Glog Esftu, the chef that his employer had ordered to come to the planet four months ago, had made their employer's breakfast before joining him. While their employer dined in the bungalow in comfort, they took a little walk around the building—the reason for why that canopy was kept up was answered during that walk.

That canopy was no normal canopy—it was a mosquito canopy made for keeping the mosquitoes away when one was sleeping; their employer had kept it up because of the swampy area that was behind the bungalow. Behind the bungalow, nestled in-between all the trees, was quicksand, puddles of multi-green water, and spider webs galore. Lynster was glad that his employer had kept that canopy up now; he was sure that his employer wouldn't be waking up in the best of moods if he found his body riddled with the tell-tale marks of the mosquitoes.

"Those were all the papers you found in the bins?" Lynster snapped-to with his employer's words; he swallowed hard then nodded his head.

Master Vile, Lynster knew, wasn't one who went crazy with newspaper reading—he typically only went crazy with reading newspapers after he completed a planetary or galactic conquest. Boy had the man been reading a lot of Earth-made newspapers in the past four months; he was keeping up with the news, which, Lynster knew, was a very wise thing to do. Conquerors did need to know what was going on—a newspaper gave clues to what could possibly happen later on in the day or week; Master Vile needed to know this information before it happened. He had already taken care of a hundred riots and he had actually flunked and then fined all of the civilians of the American continents when they refused to take his booklet test. Lynster and Glog had actually gone all over the American continents, collecting that morning's newspapers from the bins. They had brought back around a hundred newspapers. Lynster had an idea of what was missing in the papers; he had done a little light reading of the papers the last few weeks and, from what he could tell, they all seemed to not be as thick as they should be—that, alone, was pretty odd.

"There are articles in them papers from Cuba and the Bahamas—island nations that I'm not able to reach or get into because of the shields that are around them—but there is no say from the nations overseas." Master Vile said. "No opinionated articles from Europe, and my daughter didn't show up either. There has been no news even on the screens about Europe in near two weeks—that is very odd, but my daughter not showing up to assist the humans that I allowed to escape to the island nations in the Caribbean is even more odd."

Although Lynster didn't know the process of how an Earth-made newspaper was made, he did know that, all around in the Universe, the papers on different planets were running articles each day on how his employer was doing in his conquest of the Americas. Even if the article was a small one, or one that was recycled, the papers that were put out on each of the planets that were in each of the Universe's known galaxies had an article in them about his employer's conquest and doings on Earth. Why it was just the Caribbean islands and the Americas publishing articles on his employer's doings was beyond him; he did think that it was a bit odd that there was no word or concern coming from Europe. The papers that had circulated around the Universe four months ago had only had half the truth in them about his employer's conquest of the Americas—in reality, his employer had told a big lie on how he had gotten into the shields.

Instead of just "happening" on a way of getting into the shields, he had hired a Goblin straight out of Staffer's Academy—an educational facility that trained specific persons on how to behave or act as one's staff. He had let that Goblin settle into the game of working for him then he had ordered said Goblin to make an opening in the shield that was over North America. The Goblin had done so; he had made a small opening big enough for only Master Vile to enter into. The Goblin had thought that he had done a good job and that he'd be rewarded soon for what he had done... instead, he had found himself being fired right after doing what he did.

The Goblin went straight to his species government. He reported Master Vile then he sat back and waited for some sort of reprimand or compensation for his duties to happen. While a counsel member of the Goblin species had come by to visit his employer, he knew that said counsel member wasn't able do much investigating on the reported claims that were made on him and he wasn't able to sway or do much reprimanding either. Mr. Counsel-Member was sent away screaming and bleeding from the temples, ears, and eyes. The Goblin who made the conquest of the Americas happen had disappeared a few days after that counsel member paid his little visit. There was an article in one of the major Moas newspapers about the guy being missing about ten weeks and three days ago; Lynster had a feeling that his employer was the one responsible for the Goblin being missing. Master Vile was above the law in the M-51 Galaxy. If anyone reported him to the law nothing would happen and the reason for that was because he was the ruler of that galaxy. He could do anything he wanted, he could get anything he wanted for free, and he could also get away with things that a normal, non-ruling civilian couldn't. Lynster knew that his employer had never paid a utility bill since taking over of the M-51 Galaxy—the very galaxy where he was actually born and raised in and the galaxy where all of his family were also born and raised in. Lynster also knew that his employer had actually paid a small fraction of what several of the vehicles he owned cost when he purchased them. No one could do a thing if his employer had anything to do with that Goblin's disappearance.

The articles that were in the Universe's papers had made no mention on his employer receiving any help from a Goblin; they had just said that his employer had seen a truck drive out from a spell-obscured opening that was in the wall of one of the shields that were over the western part of the United States. They had said something about his taking a simple, innocent walk on the planet when he saw the truck come out from the shield.

The articles that were put in the newspapers had included a short interview from his employer. His employer had said that, after he discovered that a spell was done on the area where the truck had come from, he had simply sat and waited until another vehicle came through. He went through the opening before it could close up on him then he walked down a dimly lit tunnel. After exiting the dimly lit tunnel, he had found himself in the shield's interior. The articles went on to say that he "high-tailed it back the way he came then he went home to retrieve his troops; the planet that he was trying to claim as his for the last two thousand-plus years was conquered shortly after his return". The papers all around the Universe had run that story. There were no questions asked; it was just accepted and run. Lynster figured that the Americas being conquered by his employer would be a big thing in the papers and on the news all around and yet, it was only the newspapers from the Americas and, recently, the island nations in the Caribbean that were making note of what was going on in the Americas.

"That light-haired woman ever do what I requested of her to do?"

"Not that I know of, sir." Lynster replied quickly.

"Bring her to me at once!"

Before turning and then going towards the bungalow, Master Vile ran his hand down the front of his robe; though low in his standards, he was content with the building that he was sleeping and taking his meals in for the last two days.

After finding and then entering the large, white building, that the humans called the White House, he had found a staff of seven hiding in one of the back rooms. Of the seven in the bunch, one was a woman—he had had his fun with her from time to time. The woman, after being whisked from her hiding place, and then instructed to tell him who she was, had said that she was both the Secretary of the Press and the only one of the former head of government's high-ranked staff to still be in the building—while he didn't know what a "Secretary of the Press" was, he figured that she had something to do with filing or organizing newspapers. Two days ago, the woman had claimed that she wasn't in control of what went out in the papers outside of the government's administration and she also claimed that she could not—and would not—help him in finding material that was published from the latter part of January to the tenth of August.

He had quickly changed her tone on the could not and would not by dishing out a few slaps and a promise that, if she refused to do as he told her to, she'd be having a good session in one of the building's beds with him. She, after having an episode in shivering and shaking all over, had nodded her head and then ran off; he was sort of glad that she did so—he was getting rather tired of having her underneath him. He didn't much like the idea of cheating; along with being a married man, he had married his own youngest daughter—by force, that was. He felt no feelings towards the woman that he was bedding for the last four months and he would never have any feelings for her.

Instead of opening the bungalow's door and then going in like a normal being would, he went around to where one of the small kitchen's open windows was. Just as Lynster was teleporting out of the area, he lifted one of his long legs up; he swung it over the frame of the open window, the other leg followed suit afterwards. Once in the kitchen, he edged his body around the black stone pedestal table, that was in the room's center, and then stepped over the black wooden chair that was before the table; after going through that small obstacle course, he went to the building's one bedroom. After entering the room, he wasted little time in going to the bed; once at the bed, he knelt down then reached under it.

The gray stone box, that he was taking out from under the bed, had several newspaper articles in it; the one that was on the stack's top was found after he went into the White House's main office four months ago. After the box was in his hand, he stood up then left the room; once seated in the kitchen's one chair, he placed the box on the table then opened it.

Except for the top-lying article, all of the articles that met his eye were from the past six months. None of them were on him and his conquest of the Americas; they were all about his youngest daughter's newest escape from his family's grasp. Angel, and her sons, had lived with his uncle, on Moas, for two months before disappearing again; he remembered the morning of the noted disappearance well.

The darkness of that January 28 morning hadn't even started to lift when his uncle started yelling for everyone to get out of bed; no questions were allowed to be asked, and no none was allowed to be slow—the man had simply said for everyone, from adult to child to staff member, to head down to the dining room and then stay there until he came down. He had only had time to throw a bathrobe around himself, and put a pair of slippers on his feet, before one of his uncle's guards came up to make everyone that was on the level that he was on hurry up in getting down to the dining room.

Everyone was asking and wondering what was going on in that dining room. It was right cramped in that room for all of an hour before his uncle came down; he had a feeling that she was missing but there was a small part of him that hoped that she, or one of her kids, had just fallen ill or something. Sadly, that small part of him had found itself disappointed. His uncle had found Angel and her four sons missing soon after getting up from the toilet. The man, after taking a leak, and then feeling himself as being half-there, had checked all throughout his mansion for Angel and her sons—after finding none of them in their chambers, or in any of the house's other rooms, he had freaked. Everyone who had contact with Angel and her sons the previous evening were interviewed then, after the interviews were given, Uncle Tazir said for nearly everyone to pack up and then leave his house. The only piece of information that his uncle had gotten about Angel was from Shaam, his great-grandfather. Shaam had said that Angel had seemed normal the previous evening; the only abnormal thing that she did was ask him what he'd do if he found that he had an illegitimate child. No signs of their wanting to leave, or that they were getting ready to leave, were disclosed by anyone who was interviewed.

For about a week, none of them had heard a thing from his uncle then, from out of the blue, the papers had started cranking out stories on how the man was turning Moas upside down in his search for Angel and her sons. There were also a few articles on how Cheshire Ubalki, his uncle's stepfather, and one of his sons, Efagti Ubalki, were arrested on Zeta Ren—apparently, the two were trying to duplicate his uncle's actions in turning Zeta Ren upside down; they were looking for Angel and her sons too. The male members of his family had joined the search a day to two days later; he was a participant in the search for a week before dropping out—he had decided to do an attempt in gaining a way into the shields that his daughter had put up over most of Earth.

Instead of going to the planet, then spending unneeded energy in trying to bypass the shields himself, he had decided to hire someone that he'd normally not consider employing. Once the year's graduate class at Staffer's Academy walked the aisle, he approached the first Goblin he saw; a little lie here, a little lie there, a promise of a good salary and benefits, and he had nabbed himself a new, useful, employee—one, of which, could bypass the shields that were over Earth's civilized parts. He had let his new employee settle into the groove of working for him before giving him the simple task of making a portion of the shields drop so he could go in—an added incentive was given to the man; he said that he'd increase his pay, and workplace benefits, if he did what he asked of him to do.

The Goblin had done his task well; why he hadn't thought about employing a Goblin—a species that, along with being able to get into anything, including shields, was very sneaky and powerful—before was beyond him but he had done it. After the Goblin's task was complete, he had fired him.

He had conquered the Americas with no problem afterwards then he had found himself having to deal with an investigation that was fronted by one of the high staff of the Goblin species government. He sent the Goblin investigator running after zapping him twice with a high-powered white beam of energy then he took care of his former employee before heading back to work on the new government of the Americas. No one else had bothered him from the Goblin species government; his family had pretty much left him alone—er, except for his mother and father, that was. His parents were constantly on his ass about his not helping in finding Angel and her sons; they thought he had decided to abandon Angel and his only son by her which wasn't true. Besides the deep, inner feeling that he had that told him that she was on the planet, he was also told by several of his soldiers that she was seen in Colorado.

If what his soldiers had told him was true... if she was on the planet, he had a chance to not only capture her, and Bile, but he also had a chance to off the three sons that she had produced with his uncle. He knew that Angel would, naturally, give him a fight over protecting the three ill-spore sons that she had given birth to but he was sure that, in time, she'd forget all about them. He was quite sure that, after she gave birth to three other children—sired by him, of course—, and after having the bond that she had with Bile severed, she'd change.

At the moment, the task, for him, wasn't only to keep the humans in the Americas under his firm control but to also find where his daughter was.

"Get your hands off me!" the lid of the gray stone box was slowly closed after its owner heard the voice of the woman that he had ordered his servant to retrieve and then bring to him. He had just latched the lock, that was on the box's lid, when the door to the bungalow was opened; a woman, who had blue eyes and light blonde hair, was shoved in. The door was closed right after the woman was in the bungalow.

If she was told four months and three days ago that the United States's administrative government would fall to the monster that was seated in front of her, she would of done more than tell Horace Smith, the former head of the administrative government of the United States, about it. She would of run for her life. She had earned her degree in Political Science after spending four years in Rice University then she had spent a further five years in that same school to earn her master's before looking for work. It was right difficult at first; no one had wanted to run the risk of having someone so new out of college as their second-hand person. After two years of unemployment, she had found Ray Louis Hemingway—the man who would go on to become one of Adam Victor Williams's senior officials. She was the principle deputy press secretary for the man for three and a half years then she found herself being appointed as the new Secretary of the Press after Horace Smith won his bid for the presidency—Ray Lous Hemingway, after George Wallace's term was over, and about two months after Horace A. Smith was in-office, had given Mr. Smith the suggestion of appointing her as his new Secretary of the Press. Mr. Smith was a good man; along with being respectable, responsible, and professionally driven, he had everyone's interests deep within his heart. The man was a very down to Earth type of person who'd practically take and then give the shirt from his back to one who needed it more. She could see why he was picked as her nation's president.

Things were well in the White House; everyone and everything was going according to protocol until the 9th of May... The day when Hell on Earth happened... The day that the evil man, who was seated before her, in a chair that looked much too small for him, had found a way into the shields that protected the civilians of the Americas. The invasion was pretty much a walk-over for him; the military hadn't had a chance to stop his advance and neither had Horace Smith. When Horace Smith heard that the monster was nearing the capital, he had ordered all of his staff to get into the helicopters; Code Red was issued, an order that had never been given during the American government's known existence. Instead of everyone being calm during the evacuation of the White House, there was mass panic and hysteria; Horace Smith, Horace Smith's family, and a majority of his official staff had gotten away but, sadly, there were some folk left behind. While she didn't know what the president was doing, she did know where he was—no amount of torture would get that piece of information from her. The same went with Angel Irene and her sons' whereabouts; if she knew where they were, she'd not tell voluntarily or otherwise.

She and George Davis, the Executive Chef who was responsible for planning, managing, and preparing all of the menus and meals for the First Family, were left behind along with five butlers, two of whom were injured after the order was given to evacuate the White House. She, George Davis, and them five butlers had tried to hide in one of the White House's back rooms after Master Vile entered the building; sadly, the man had found them anyways. After they were found, and then removed from their hiding place, an order was given for them to be taken to a room and then locked in. Master Vile went to the Oval office afterwards.

The Dakota's and the Carolina's were combined first, then the states of West Virginia and Virginia were combined; after seeing the map of the New England states, he combined them into a big state that, as of right now, was unnamed. After them states were combined, all of their toll roads were dismantled—new ones, in the most ridiculous of places, took their place. Once the states were combined, and the toll roads of old were destroyed, and new ones were being built, he set in on changing the government. He was around halfway through with changing the government of North and South America when he decided to combine Canada with the United States and then implement the same toll road changes along both "old Canada's" and Mexico's borders.

More than a dozen Master Vile statues, and museums, were either halfway or nearly done in being built in "the new North America" and a series of age-old buildings were destroyed for favor of the odd, little churches that were slated to be built in all of the known cities and towns—these had only just started construction; it was going to take a while before the odd buildings were done and the ones that they were meant for came in to attend whatever masses that were held in them.

Almost overnight, after Canada was combined with the United States, the order for the communities in South America to be abandoned was given—the man had pretty much let his army have their fill in killing people after word reached him that his order wasn't being complied with. The casualties in the communities that were near the forested parts of South America were high thanks to him turning a blind eye to his army's activities.

All while doing his worst on the western side of the planet, he was terrorizing her, George Davis, and the butlers that were left behind after the order was given for the White House to be evacuated. The two, injured men, who were in the building on the day of the invasion, were removed right after their hiding place was found—where they were, and what they were doing, wasn't known to her; while she hoped that they were fine, something told her that they weren't. She, George, and the remaining three butlers were receiving constant orders from him and they were also being forced to endure his constant, day-in and day-out abuse.

"What?" Caroline Louise Roberts said after being thrown into the bungalow.

"What my ass, I told you to do something two days ago. You do it or did you slack off like you usually do?" Master Vile growled.

"I'm the Secretary of the Press, not a librarian." Caroline Roberts said back.

Wrong answer; Caroline screamed as she spun around after Master Vile shot his hand out at her. His large hand had assaulted the left side of her face, which was already covered in a melody of bruises and cuts from the other abuses that he had given to her. Caroline stood in place against the wall of the bungalow; she shivered slightly as Master Vile stood from the chair that he was sitting in.

She couldn't believe how disturbingly ugly he was! He stood an impossible six foot, five inches and he was between two hundred and fifty and two hundred and seventy-five pounds, with not an ounce of that being fat. His ears were elongated; along with being gold in color, they had black, Tiger-like stripes on them. Each ear had a total of six, gold earrings hanging from them. The man's face was smooth and humanoid in appearance; his lips and nose were thin but his nose pointed down sharply. His eyes were a glowing, golden-yellow color; the pupils, that were in their centers, were small and black. Caroline only had to look at the man's eyes to know that he was smart—them eyes held quite a lot of intelligence and experience in them! The man's brow was thick... it seemed much too thick for the face that it was apart of. The man's entire body was bi-colored, with the left half being a golden-yellow color and the right being a dark blue color.

The man who made her former employer give out the order to evacuate the White House was wearing a long, black robe that had a short cape on the back that was attached to a pair of dark blue shoulder wraps. A pair of snake heads, the left being gold in color while the right being dark blue, were attached to the shoulder wraps; they were under the man's chin—they weren't a simple adornment to the man's outfit... They were alive! They either nudged the man's neck or chin or they nipped at his chin in affection every few seconds. There was a blue scarf around the man's neck; the two kerchiefs, that were under it, were made of a thick fabric. One was dull red while the other was dull gold.

The man wasn't wearing a plain robe over himself; Caroline knew that a pair of black pants were worn on his bottom half and she also knew that he wore a pair of rather heavily polished black shoes on his feet too. Master Vile had a pair of gold colored gloves on his hands that went back to his elbows; his long, dark blue fingernails poked out from the holes that were at the ends of each of the gloves' fingers. Her new, terrible, and terrifying employer had a pair of blue-tinted glasses over his eyes—the man claimed that he only wore them to bring a sense of "coolness" to his image; Caroline personally thought that the blue-tinted glasses were silly. She wished that she could swipe them off the man's face but, she knew that if she did, she'd be getting much worse than a face slap. Caroline Louise Roberts swallowed once then backed up a little. She was now standing with her back pressed tightly against the wall of the kitchen.

"Borshu baktru negrai!" Master Vile spat in a language that Caroline didn't understand. "You humans never do as you're told! I gave you a simple command to find and then bring me any and all newspapers that were put out to the masses from the past six months and you couldn't do that!"

Caroline stayed quiet; she was terrified at the moment and the reason for that was very clear. Master Vile had sliced his left hand down the center of his robe then had thrown his arms back. His robe, the cape, and the shoulder wraps that the cape was attached to fluttered to the floor in almost slow-motion; she didn't really see his thrown clothing fall to the ground—she was staring in shock at what his body looked like! She was raised a Catholic since birth; she had read the stories in the bible, had gone to church every Wednesday and Sunday, and she had also joined groups within the church during her school career. She didn't curse or do parties, she knew what was good and what was bad, and she also knew the basic principles of what a living thing needed to live. Master Vile looked to be lacking in one of them areas.

He had a heart and lungs; three things that any life-form needed to be considered living. He had good muscle mass on him and his bone structure was good but the thing was, the entire right side of his body was skeletal in appearance—there was no flesh at all on the right side of his body! The left side of his body was pretty thick in muscle. He had an impressively large and well-muscled chest; the six-pack, that he had on that side of his body, was very tight and the arm that was also on that side of his body was very thick in muscle. The right side of his body had no muscle on it at all but she knew from experience that it was strong in invisible muscle.

His waist was slender; it tapered down in a V-shape. The leg that was on the left side of his body had good muscle to it while the leg that was on the right side of his body was skeletal and looked to have no muscle on it; he had a humanoid left foot while his right foot was skeletal.

Caroline shivered violently; she'd not know a thing of what she did about the man's physical self if not for his raping her. He had called her a sort of teaser, a getting-ready lady, or a warmer-upper—a type of woman who warmed a man up for the "big" event, which was the bedding of his wife or partner. Caroline crossed her arms over her chest; when her hands landed on her shoulders, she was treated to the mental image of the puncture marks that were on that part of her body—if not for the man before her, she'd not have them on her... The same went for the other marks that she had on herself—on her neck, back, and on her womanly parts. He was a monster in the bed; she could see why Angel Irene didn't want anything to do with him! Beside the man being her father, he was a bruiser in the sack. He bit, and scratched, when he had sex and he also had a way of ramming himself into a woman... hard!

With her knowing what she did about the man, she was for sure not going to help him find the whereabouts of his daughter—she had a feeling that that was why he had ordered her to look for and then bring him the newspapers that had been published in the last six months. Angel Irene may be near alien in genetic make-up but she acted human and she had won the hearts of many by simply protecting everyone from her evil father.

"What is it that you're trying to hide from me?" Master Vile walked over to Caroline; he stood within half an inch of her. "If it's my daughter, I already know she's somewhere on this planet."

"How in blue blazes do you know that!" Caroline hid the gasp; up to that moment, she had thought that he didn't know where his daughter was.

"You think anything that happens out in the battlefield isn't relayed to me? I'm very aware that she fought with several of my troops in Colorado." Master Vile drew himself in closer; Caroline struggled to not gag—while he had bathed himself recently, and while he had a clean smell on him, his breath was horrible!

"It's been four months since she and her sons were last seen," Caroline clamped her mouth shut after spitting that bit of information out.

"Mhmmm, and surely there'd be some sort of newspaper article lying around somewhere that was written on her." Master Vile turned. He walked off a few steps before stopping. "She was missing on this planet from the latter part of November to the twenty-eighth of January; since she is such a high and mighty importance to you humans, I'm very sure that there were articles in the papers about her being missing and I'm also very sure that some sort of articles were written between the twenty-eighth of January and the early part of May about her." Master Vile turned around; he gave Caroline a deep, hard stare before going on. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am. I know she's somewhere on this planet. Them four sons of hers—three of whom are of no real importance to either her or me—are probably also with her. I need to know where they are so I can—"

"You won't learn anything more on her from me." Caroline said strongly, interrupting Master Vile. She stepped away from the wall that she had braced herself against; she made her hands into fists as she spoke the rest of what she had to say to the man who took over her half of the planet. "Even if I did, I wouldn't tell someone so cruel, evil, and heartless as you."

"That so, let's see how you like being ganged up on then." Master Vile said. His face suddenly lit up as an evil smile spread across it; his thin lips opened just enough to expose the fangs that were on his top and lower jaws. "Rourke! Get your ass in here!"

The courage that had filled her body no more entered her before being sucked right back out—Rourke was one of the five members of her new employer's staff that she just plain hated! The goat-man was cruel... maybe not as cruel as Master Vile but he did enjoy hurting others and he also enjoyed showing off the muscle that he had on his body while he hurt the ones that he was given to hurt. Caroline backed up against the wall then she started to crouch down; she had just completed her crouch when the door to the bungalow opened. A tall, muscular, goat-like being, that had gray fur and blue-black eyes, walked into the small kitchen; due to his having a set of spiraling horns, that were thirty-six inches and were either black or near-black in color, he had to bend down some to enter the bungalow. The goat-like being was wearing an imperial red uniform and black shoes. His hands weren't like those that she had—they were cloven, like those found on a goat or sheep. Judging by the way his shoes looked, his feet were human-like. His goat-like ears flicked in her direction once before going still. After he entered the bungalow, he stopped.

"How horny are you, Nygiti, and Galong this evening?" Master Vile asked the goat-man.

"Most honorable, evil Vile," the goat-man said. "we three are holding but only just."

"You three may do as you wish with the human that's in this room." Master Vile said. The goat-man turned to look at Caroline. "I need information from her that she refuses to spill and, since she refuses to relay what she knows to me, she is to be punished. You, Nygiti, and Galong are free to do as you wish with her."

"My master, I, Nygiti, and Galong appreciate this treat." Rourke replied with a bow. Master Vile nodded his head then looked over at Caroline, who was now on her knees, shaking in fear. The corner of his mouth curled up as he turned to leave the room; he began to laugh after he heard Caroline's single scream after Rourke went to grab her up from the floor.


	10. Chapter 10

Master Vile wasn't the only one who read the article that mentioned the three thousand, three hundred, and ninety-three people who reached the safety of Cuba and the Bahamas; with the same article being published in the local Elchesheim-Illingen newspaper, Angel and her sons had read it too. They had read it so many times on the morning of August 12 that it was permanently burned in their memory banks. While Angel was glad that so many had reached the safety of the islands of Cuba and the Bahamas, she was mystified over why her father would allow so many to flee—it seemed like something he wouldn't allow to happen and yet, he had allowed for it to happen. The shields that she put up over the Americas were all down now; the only thing keeping more civilians on them continents from escaping was an electrified green strand—her father had put that up to prevent further escapes. It was doing its job almost too well. There were numerous reports on the news that claimed that over a hundred people in the Americas had been admitted to hospitals for burns that they had received after touching the electrified green strand—either the strand was being touched accidentally or people were touching it in an attempt to escape from her father's rule.

It wasn't by fear of Master Vile finding them that kept them indoors for the four days that followed August 12—it rained pretty heavily on the 13th and 14th then it tapered off to a consistent drizzle on the 15th and for most of the 16th; at 2:35 a.m., the storm system that brought the four-day rainy period moved off. When they woke up on the morning of the 17th of August, it was sunny. The weather forecast claimed that it was going to be a hot and humid day, with no rain in sight. Bile and his brothers ate a hearty breakfast of blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sausage; their excitement over finally being able to leave the house was so great that they could barely sit still at the table. After they finished their breakfast, they did their usual—which was their taking their used dishes to the kitchen sink for a quick-washing before putting them on the side of the sink that was reserved for the dishes that needed to be fully cleaned. After they gave the dishes that they had used a quick cleaning, they went up to their rooms to retrieve their wallets. They had just retrieved their wallets when their mother asked them to go to the living room and wait for her. She had made them their breakfast while wearing a dark purple cotton robe that had a purple cotton nightgown underneath it—she had overslept that morning. As she got dressed, Guyunis, Hazaar, and Lazeer took a seat on the red microfiber sectional couch while Bile sat on the red velvet loveseat. Lhaklar leaned against the gas-powered fireplace.

"What're your plans for today, Bile?" Lhaklar asked.

"Probably go down to the dump. Check things out, and see if there's anything good to bring back." Bile replied.

"What're you going to look for?" Hazaar asked. "Anything specific, or are you just free-looking?"

"Free-looking, this is my first time to the dump so I don't know what I'll find." Bile replied.

"Please reframe from bringing anything back; this place is too nice for dump-junk to be brought into it." Lhaklar said.

"No promises, dad." Bile mumbled. "What are you going to do today, Hazaar?"

"Headed down to the Rhine river," Hazaar replied.

"What are you going-k to do there?" Guyunis asked.

"Look around, maybe find a good tree that's sturdy enough to hold my weight so I can do some pull ups." Hazaar replied.

"Do not bring any animals home!" Lhaklar said sharply. "Look but don't touch."

"Yes dad." Hazaar sniffed.

"The Rhine river is a real crazy river. One thousand, three hundred, and nine years ago, the humans had the banks on both sides fully clear of all foliage. It's now thick in trees and bushes so be careful where you put your feet." Lazeer said. "I near broke my ankle in exploring what I did of the river last week."

"Is there a path on our side of the river?" Bile asked. "Beaten path, or one made by concrete or rocks or—"

"I saw a few faint beaten paths; they're nearly overgrown, though. There's one beaten path that has gray rocks on its sides; it goes right down to the river—I think fishermen use that one." Lazeer replied.

"What's your plan for the day, Lazeer?" Hazaar asked.

"Check out the town," Lazeer replied. "Maybe find a girlfriend, bring her home, then start a family."

"Guyunis, hold Lazeer down so I can take his goggle." Hazaar said. "The last thing we need is little Lazeer's running around the house, bugging me and momma bug-shit and destroying things."

She went upstairs to change into the pair of black pants and the black, long sleeve blouse that she had purchased two days ago, after the manager of the local food mart agreed to hire her as a full-time employee. Her main job was to bag groceries, bring in the carts that the customers had left outside, and stock the shelves that were in the store. She had also been told that, since she had experience in working in a deli, she was also expected to work in the deli section that handled the meats and cheeses—when there wasn't anyone available to be in that part of the store, that was. She would be making minimal wage of €8.62 an hour, which she was perfectly fine with... until Lhaklar pointed out that minimal wage wasn't going to go far with their now having six persons in the family and with their now living in a house. She had come very close to grounding Lhaklar the day before when he started pointing all of this out to her; he was right disrespectful towards her... which was very abnormal as he was usually so well-mannered, respectable, and responsible around her.

Before he started up with saying how pitiful her pay was, and with how far her €66.69 could go, she knew that he'd be bringing up the subject about his going out to get a job so he could help with the family finances. She had said no when the subject of his going out to get a job came up four years ago; she had wanted him to remain being a kid because that was what he was. A kid. He shouldn't be the one going out to get a job, or worrying about what all this paycheck or that paycheck could be spent on or what bill this or that paycheck could cover. He should of been going out; checking out the girls, getting into some mischief, fussing and fighting with his brothers about some odd thing that only male children fought over. She was the parent; she should be the one to worry about what bill a paycheck could be spent on or what one week's paycheck could be spent on—even though she had told this to her son, he had still gone behind her back to get a job. He had become a cashier at Walmart and, although she had tried talking him into quitting his job, she was very proud of him and grateful for his help. He had worked only part-time then, making minimal pay which, when combined with her own, was enough to drop some of the stresses that came with everyday life—such as, what bill needed to be paid, what bill had to be dropped, or what all they couldn't buy when it came time to stock the cabinets and the fridge for the month.

The utility bills at their old apartment were small—he had pointed that out wonderfully, along with the fact that the utility bills for their new home would be a lot more. There was an extra mouth in the family to worry about; €66.69 a week would not be able to take care of the bills or needs of her growing boys. Lhaklar had pointed all of this out when the family was seated, enjoying—or at least trying to—what she had made for supper, which was spaghetti, a meal that her sons all loved and went crazy over. There was a lot of tension between her and her secondborn son and that had made Bile, Guyunis, Hazaar, and Lazeer not want to eat. After fifteen minutes of hearing Lhaklar babble on and on about how pitiful her €66.69 paycheck was, and about how much stress she'd be in when it came to bill time, and about how little there'd be left over from a €66.69 paycheck after all the bills were paid, she had slapped her hand on the table.

She had told Lhaklar to go upstairs, to his room, which he had. She and the rest of her family had eaten supper then she went to do a private chat with her son. Naturally, he had apologized for putting her on the spot when they were eating supper and, naturally, he had begged her for forgiveness. When the question of what he wanted from her was asked, he had responded with asking her permission to go get a job—he had wanted to help her in keeping the family and the bills up. After a few minutes of thinking it over, she had nodded her head. She had given him her consent; he had thanked her. She had given him one rule on this job that he would soon be going out to get: he wasn't allowed to work full-time, like her. He could work part-time, on a three or four day basis. He had nodded his head, and then grumbled a little over being told that he wasn't allowed to have a job that would employ him full-time, then he had shook her hand—and how strange was that for her? Instead of getting a hug from her son, she had shook his hand after his was held out for her to shake.

Angel heard all of the plans that her sons had decided to do that day—they were settling in very nicely into their new environment; she was glad for that. Lhaklar was saying how he was planning on taking Guyunis to Karlsruhe, the right large city that was nearest them, when she walked into the room. Although she was glad to see that her sons had plans for the day, she was afraid that they'd be putting them off for a while. The manager at U-Krop-It, the food mart where she was hired to work at, had specifically asked for her to drive into work instead of teleporting in—the manager didn't want shoppers or other staff to be distracted or spooked by her teleporting in which she had understood. Her Porsche D2 would be gone for eight hours a day; from Monday to Saturday. Her sons would have nothing to drive and, if the person who acted as manager to whatever store Lhaklar decided to try to get a job at told her son that he was also required to drive to work, he'd have no transportation in order to do that. She had asked Guyunis if he could kindly deduct €5,000 from the money that he had; he had done so without questioning her. All of what he deducted from his funds was rolled up in the front left pocket of her pants.

"Ma, you look lovely." Bile said after she walked into the living room.

"Thank you sweetie," Angel said. "I heard all of what you boys said you was going to do today."

"We won't get into any trouble, mom." Lhaklar said.

"Promise," Hazaar said.

"Cross my heart, mama." Lazeer said. He made a crossing motion over the center of his chest with his left hand.

"I know you five will behave yourselves," Angel said. "Think you can put your plans off for a few hours? I need you boys to do a little something for me."

"All of us?" Bile asked.

"What?" Guyunis asked. He tugged nervously at the chain that was loosely wrapped around his neck.

"I want you five to go to Deutsch Autos," Angel said. She pulled the money that was in her pants pocket out then she tossed it over to Lhaklar, who caught and then looked at it. "Find a car that you can all agree on and buy it. This will be your car, boys, not mine. Lhaklar, you and Bile have your licenses on you, right?"

"Y-you want us to work together in buying a car, mom?" Lhaklar asked. He was stunned.

"Won't you be required to be there?" Bile asked. He was just as stunned as Lhaklar was. "Won't you need to be there to sign some papers or something?"

"Act as mature as you can. Be polite and, if you have any trouble, use your communicators to contact me." Angel said. "If I'm required to be there to sign some papers or prove your ages, I want you to leave the store. Go do as you planned to do today or something."

Lazeer, clad in a black mesh shirt, that had a long tear in the chest, and a pair of black jeans, that had a rip in the left knee only, and that had a dark red, velvety material stripe going down the length of the outer legs, didn't wonder silently if his mother was feeling okay like his brothers were. He knew his mother well, as did his brothers, and he knew that two things had happened that morning that were very odd. First off, he had walked into the kitchen to find his mother making breakfast in a gown and robe. His mother was one who liked to get dressed right after waking up; it was only when she wasn't feeling well, or when she had accidentally overslept and hadn't had enough time to throw on some clothes, that she wore a gown and robe when cooking breakfast. His mother giving them money to go buy a car with was the second odd thing that had happened that morning. They were content with being allowed to drive their mother's Buick Lucerne; she had trusted them to drive safe and to stay safe and to not total her car and they had felt a sort of pride over knowing that she trusted them enough to drive that car—she hadn't said a word about getting another car and, up to that morning, she had never said a thing about letting them go out to look and then pick and then buy a car that they would call theirs. Lazeer stood up from his seat on the sectional couch then walked over to his mother; when he got to her, he placed the back of his hand against her forehead. His mother gave him one of them strange, what-are-you-doing looks then took a step back.

"You okay, mom?" he asked.

"Nothing wrong with me, why do you ask?" his mother asked him.

"You tossed Lhaklar some money then you said for us to go out and buy a car with it." Lazeer said. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine and I'm serious on what I said." Angel replied, she then glanced down. "Finally decided to break in the new shoes, Lazie?"

"Yes," he had purchased the shoes that were on his feet ten days ago; they were on display in the shoe store, that was in the local community center. One look was all it took for him to be hooked. Except for the single, red zig-zag, that was on their sides, they were black.

"I want you five to be on your best behavior while looking for the car now," their mother said as she dug into the front right pocket of her pants. She pulled the key, and then the remote, that went to her Porsche D2 out from that pocket then she turned to leave the room. "No fighting; call me if there are any issues."

They piled up in front of the living room windows when she left the house. As always, they felt a sort of sadness fall over them as she walked down the sidewalk and then got into her car and then drove away; the sad feeling was a normal feeling—loving, attentive mother leaves the house to go to work, leaving her five sons, who are very close to her, alone at home. It took them a few minutes to feel normal again, and to back away from the window; Lhaklar did a quick count of the money that he was thrown after backing away from the window before stuffing it into the front left pocket of his cream-colored pants. With the money safely placed on his person, he looked at his brothers; as he gave them a once-over, they thought the same thing which was:

"The fun ends before it even begins—Lhaklar's taken the reins... he's taken it upon himself to take control. He's going to act like he usually does—he's going to be annoying; he's going to act like the big-shot, daddy-man. He's going to be mean and he's going to try to be as controlling as can be."

They all shivered then got ready to leave. Guyunis slapped the only pocket that was on the pair of blue jeans, that were pretty much destroyed from the knees on down, and that had rips and tears in the inner and outer thighs, that he was wearing once—the pack of Gold Flake cigarettes, that was in that pocket, had six cigarettes in it. After Guyunis slapped the only pocket that was on his pants, Lhaklar clapped his hands together; he said for them to drop the drapes, then to double-check the locks on the doors and windows, which they did. When the house was taken care of, he told them to teleport to Deutsch Autos. Which they did... or, at least, that was where they had intended to teleport to. It was either Bile or Lhaklar who decided to change their teleportation destination; when their teleportation was complete, they weren't at Deutsch Autos. They found themselves at a small ice cream parlor that was beside the car dealership that their mother had told them to go to.

"We're suppose to be at the dealership, not at an ice cream parlor." Hazaar said after they appeared at the ice cream parlor. "Why did we come here? It's nearly nine in the morning—it's much too early for ice cream."

"That's something I'd also like to know." a rather annoyed Lhaklar said. "Who changed our intended teleportation location?"

"Me," Bile admitted. "We need to sit and talk it out about what type of car we're looking for."

"I'd appreciate it if you give some sort of warning before you go changing a teleportation location." Lhaklar said. He glared at Bile; Bile simply rolled his eyes at him.

Since the tables that were arranged around the ice cream parlor only allowed for three people to sit at them, they found themselves having to split between two tables. Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar sat at one of the tables while Guyunis and Lazeer sat at the table that was beside theirs. A waitress, a pretty young thing who had black hair and brown eyes, came out to ask if they needed any help in ordering. Lhaklar spoke on all of their behalf's by saying that they were fine, and that they were just there to talk things over about a car. After the waitress left, they got down to talking about what they were looking for in a car. Lhaklar made it clear very quick that they weren't going to buy any trucks or muscle-type cars; he also said that they weren't going to buy a car that was red, orange, light green, or pink. He also said that they wanted a car that got good energy-mileage and that wasn't too expensive; he told them how much their mother had thrown at him then he leaned back in his chair.

"Although I groan at the missed chance at buying a truck, I do agree with Lhaklar that it should be a car that we get." Bile said. He was quiet all while Lhaklar was talking and dominating on what they were and weren't looking for in a vehicle. "Unless two of us want to ride in the back, only two or three of us would fit comfortably in a truck—I sure as hell won't be driving around in a vehicle with one or more of you numbskulls near sitting on my lap."

"Van's are tacky, and they aren't good on saving energy." Hazaar said.

"Has to be a four door," Lazeer said. "Them two-door cars are a headache to get in and out of. Have to wrestle the seats forward just to get into the back—they're right small too."

"One exhaust in the back, two is a hassle and four is ridiculous. One exhaust is enough to worry about." Lhaklar said.

"Should the gearshift be on the side of the wheel or between the front seats?" Hazaar asked.

"I'd prefer for it to be between the front seats," Bile said. "I've heard stories on how the wheel's siding gets messed up after a while. From what I've heard, the thing makes the siding of the wheel come loose."

Jurgen Maurer, a fifty-two year old man who had a bald head, gray-green eyes, and a potbelly from having one too many drinks at the local bars that were in town, knew who they were soon after seeing them sitting at one of the far back tables, that were on the concrete square, that was around the red and blue and yellow striped Uhlala ice cream parlor that was next door to his workplace. He figured that they had just decided to pop in at the ice cream parlor that served all sorts of flavors of ice cream, frozen yogurt, ice cream cakes, and frozen drinks to do a quick talk before heading out to their real destination. They were kids, after all, and they were also newcomers to the town so he figured that they were probably just exploring the town; getting to know the area and its local community. Jurgen went back to work; he had just opened the dealership, so he really didn't have time to worry over what some kids were doing at the shop that was approximately two hundred and thirty-five feet from the place that he worked at. He had to pull the drapes up, he had to turn the power on, and he also had to make sure that all of the building's desks were appropriately set-up.

He was the manager of Deutsch Autos; had been for almost fifteen years. It paid good, and he liked the clientele, and the staff that worked in the building, but what he liked most of all was what the dealership offered in vehicles. Although this was no cheap car dealership by a long-shot, it was one of them car dealerships where one could buy a vehicle without breaking the bank. Most of the vehicles that were out on the tarmac were priced at under six grand; there were two rows of ten to fifteen thousand euro-priced cars out on the lot but most of the vehicles that were on the tarmac were around the €4,000 to €6,000 range.

There were vans, trucks, and normal-looking cars on that black tarmac lot, that was outside the building that he was now walking in; the crazily designed or the crazily painted vehicles cost the most. Those were parked behind the building—most of the time, it was either the college kids or someone who was crazy in the mind or who were thrill-seekers that looked and then purchased them types of cars. Unlike most of them top-dollar or low-end dealerships that checked their client's credit scores before letting a client drive off the lot in one of their cars, Deutsch Autos did no checks on credit. A customer could pay fifteen to twenty percent of what a car on the lot outside the building cost then he or she could drive the vehicle out; that customer would be on a contract to pay a certain amount of money each month for whatever was left in the car's cost and, if the customer couldn't send payment for some odd reason, the dealership would assist by offering to cut the current month's bill in half. He preferred to send his customers away driving a car instead of plain sending them away without having purchased a car that they had expressed an interested in—not every freakin' person in the world was rich, or well-off, or could afford to pay between four thousand and six thousand euros for a new car in one fell swoop.

Jurgen went to the back; to where his own desk sat. His desk wasn't one of them overly crazy ones. It was one of them steel type desks that had a wooden top that had a pull out drawer underneath it. There was an LED desk lamp, a stapler, a blue cordless phone that was transparent, an upright file holder, and a black pen on the surface of his desk; a lone wastebasket was up against the left side of the desk. The chair that he was pulling out from under the desk was one of them black mesh types. The carpet underneath his feet was blue while the walls and the ceiling were a creamish orange color. Only the back of the building had no windows on it; the door that acted as the entrance to the building was half panel/half glass. Jurgen checked the messages that were left on his phone the night before then sat down; it wasn't long before three of his co-workers walked into the building, then started their early morning work routines.

"Seems like we get customers earlier every day we open." Kathe Fischer, a thirty year old woman who had black hair and blue eyes, said.

"The earlier they come in the longer the day will be." Markus Goethe, a darkly tanned man who was wearing a gray business suit, said.

"They will probably not be here for long," Torsten Arndorfer, a red-haired man who had dull green eyes, said. "It's just a bunch of kids checking the cars out, nothing more."

After discussing the specifics on what they wanted in the car that they wanted to buy, Lhaklar had stood up, had stretched his arms back, then had started the trek to the auto dealership without saying so much as a word to any of them. Bile had rolled his eyes then had said for everyone to stand up and follow him, which they did. By the time they reached the dealership, Lhaklar had already started looking for a car. Bile said for them to fan out and start looking; he also said that, if they saw something that looked promising on the lot, they were to not hesitate in calling everyone over. As expected, Lhaklar hadn't given any of the trucks or vans that he walked by a glance; he was more interested in the simple four-door cars that had normal paint-jobs and body frames on them. Hazaar went directly to the station wagon-like cars while Lazeer went over to look at the VW, Beetle-like cars. Bile decided to walk around to the far side of the parking lot to look at the jeeps while Guyunis found himself simply walking along feeling tense.

Except for them, the parking lot was deserted. The early morning traffic hadn't really started up yet, so the road, that was in front of the dealership, was nearly empty. Guyunis didn't know what to do; he knew not a thing about cars so he really didn't know what they were looking for. He felt like a burden; he felt like he shouldn't be here, in the parking lot with all the vehicles surrounding him—this feeling, and the one of how he felt like he was being watched by more than a dozen eyes, made his skin grow taut. He had done no contributing in the talk about what all his bruders wanted in a car; Hazaar and Lazeer had asked him twice what he liked in a car and he had shyly answered that it have four wheels and be able to get from point A to point B. When Bile asked him what color he'd be happy with on the car that they chose, he had simply said black. He had clamped his mouth shut afterwards.

Lazeer called everyone over when he found a dull gold VW Beetle Y12, that was stretched out so it had a back arrangement of seats; the vehicle had one exhaust in the back and a radio antennae sticking up from the hood. Even though it was a good car, Lhaklar said something about how Beetle Y12's were energy guzzlers—they resumed the search afterwards. It wasn't long before his youngest bruder called everyone back over to look at a white, four-door BBC Classic Lux. Lhaklar said he liked the car at first then, after seeing that the doors swung up instead of to the side, he changed his mind. He walked off without saying anything further on the car; they just looked at each other before resuming the search. They got their revenge a few minutes later when Lhaklar called them over to look at a Retro-5 car that was black. The headlights and doors seemed to disappear on the car—they could only be seen after some intense looking—and the exhaust was pitifully short in the back. Bile and his brothers, after seeing the car, walked away from it. They didn't say anything on the car; they just walked down the aisle. Lhaklar glared at them then trudged along after them.

It went on like that for twenty-five minutes; one of them would call everyone over to inspect a car then either Lhaklar would walk away without giving a verbal opinion on it or Bile, Hazaar, Lazeer, and Guyunis would glance at the car that Lhaklar had called them over to look at and then walk on by without giving any opinions on it. Lhaklar and Hazaar got into a verbal fight over a Frankel Double-X car; a car that was nearly all silver except for a fluorescent blue stripe that was on both sides of the vehicle. Hazaar had called everyone over to look at the car; with the exception of Lhaklar, everyone had liked it. Lhaklar had claimed that the windshield was too dark and that none of them would like it for long because of it being a two-door vehicle instead of a four. He claimed that, since the car's two doors stretched back for nearly the entire length of the car, they would take up a lot of space when someone was opening it and that it'd be up for grabs in the damage department. Hazaar was the one who started the fight; he claimed that his brother was being too harsh and controlling and Lhaklar said that, since he was "in charge", he had to be both—which thoroughly pissed Hazaar off. Bile took his brothers away from the fight; he remembered what their mother had said earlier about their behaving and about their not fighting during the search for a car—sadly, they had done nothing but fight and act immature all during the search. Lhaklar was pulling his usual, annoying, big-shot daddy routine, Hazaar and Lhaklar were fighting, and they were all acting in an immature way with all the looking and then pointing out of this little thing or that little thing that wasn't really true about the cars that they were called over to look at. Their mother had said nothing on Lhaklar being in charge during the search; she had only thrown him the money that was to be used on a car.

Bile called Hazaar, Lazeer, and Guyunis over to look at a Symbiosis—a four-door vehicle that's doors were all transparent. The frame was a full, dark blue color; the windshield was slightly dark, as were the windows; it had one exhaust in the back; and the trunk was small. Four persons could easily, and comfortably, fit in it. The car sat up on big tires that had wide rims so the exhaust would be safe from road and speed bump impacts. Most of his brothers liked the car; when Lhaklar walked over to inspect it, he said that he wasn't going to allow them to spend €4,845 on a car that looked like something a giant chewed up and then spat out. Lhaklar walked off after saying that; Bile followed him. When they were out of hearing range, Bile grabbed Lhaklar by the sleeve of his brown and green striped, long sleeve, button down shirt. He twisted his brother around then voiced his annoyance over how he was acting.

"Either you decided to go into jerk-town after ma tossed you that money or you need to grow up." Bile said. Lhaklar blinked his large, oval-shaped, pistachio-colored eyes in shock. "Ma said for us to behave ourselves, to not fight, and—"

"I'm not fighting with anyone. I'm trying to find a car that—"

"You like. That's really all you care about. You're just looking for a car that you and you alone will like." Bile said.

"No, that we all like." Lhaklar said.

"Everyone but you liked the last car that we looked at."

"Did you see that car for what it was or was you just plain looking and then saying you liked it?" Lhaklar asked. "The tires were too big on that car, the rims too wide, and—"

"The tires were big for a reason—you'd not cause damage to the bottom of a car with the tires being that—"

"You sure as hell would! The hydraulics would give out quick; we'd be looking at a four-grand payout for replacement hydraulics."

They split then went off in different directions; they weren't really looking at the cars anymore. They had lost all interest in looking for a car; Lhaklar had sucked most of their interest in finding and then buying a car out of them with his immature acting and, now with Bile and Lhaklar fighting, the rest of that interest was sucked clean out of them. Hazaar and Lazeer plain wanted to be out of the car lot; they wanted to go do as they had planned to do that day while Guyunis wanted to head home.

Guyunis felt drained of energy for some reason; he was depressed and he was angry. He wanted to just go home, pop in some music, and maybe read a magazine or two while lying on his bed. He found himself also wanting his mum—with all that had gone on in the last thirty-eight minutes, he felt like he needed some comfort and who better to give him that than the woman who was his new mutter? Home, some music by Mastodon or Slipknot or Korn, a magazine, a hug from his new mum, and a blanket to throw over himself—that all sounded good to him. All good things to do; all things good enough to get him away from the mess that one of his older bruders was causing with his immaturity. Before the trip to the dealership, he had felt like apart of the family. He had felt connected to all of his bruders but, after Lhaklar started his immature, annoying, daddy-routine in their looking for a car, he now felt like he didn't really belong in the family. That made him feel very sad because he loved each and every one of his bruders and his mum like crazy. He had liked several of the cars that were parked in the parking lot but, due to the antics of his bruders, he had been afraid of ridicule to call everyone over to look at them.

He had liked the BRB Concept—a near-black car that had a single, brown stripe painted down its sides and a series of dark brown stripes going across its back—a lot. The BRB Concept had a ringed back, large tires that had black rims, and black windows; the car had looked fine and cool to him but his fear of Lhaklar saying something negative about it, or about his interest in it, had scared him enough to not call everyone over to look at it. He had liked the Vexel H5—a dull silver vehicle that's top swung up and then over when one was either getting in or out of the car—a lot as well but he hadn't called his bruders over. His fear of Lhaklar turning on him was too great.

He had liked the Wagon 5-Figure Eight a lot too; that was a dark red, station wagon-like car that had a station wagon front and a flatbed back to it—Lhaklar had said no on trucks earlier so he had figured that his bruder would say no on that car solely because of the truck-like flatbed back portion. Guyunis stopped; he ran his hand down the length of chain that was connected to the one that was around his shoulders and chest before looking to his left. Before he could stop himself, he called his brothers over to see the car that he had just seen.

"Guy, what's wrong?" Hazaar asked after running up. Guyunis hesitated for a second before pointing at the car that he had seen. Hazaar took one look at the car then yelled for the rest of their brothers.

Lazeer ran over then Bile came over; Lhaklar walked over with his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his pants—he was the last to see the car that Guyunis had seen. Bile had threatened to use his communicator to call their mother; he had threatened to tell her all of what was going on in the parking lot if he didn't stop being such an annoying, disrespectful brother. He was, in a way, very emotionally hurt. In his opinion, he hadn't been acting disrespectful or annoying. He saw his actions as being normal; since he saw himself as the most mature of his brothers, and since their mother had thrown him the money for the car, he had taken it upon himself to be the one in charge of the task of looking and then buying a car. Bile hadn't seen that; he had given him an ultimatum: if he didn't want their mother to be brought in on the situation, and if he didn't want to be embarrassed, and maybe grounded, he was to either quit acting the way he was or go home.

When he reached the car that Guyunis had called them over to see, he found himself dethroned as the one in charge. Bile had taken over. The car that Guyunis had called everyone over to look at was one of them i8 BMW's—it had see-through sides; the top had a sunroof on it; and the body of the car was low to the ground. The wheels were normal in size; they had normal rims and hubcaps on them. The non-transparent parts of the car were a dark blue color. When Lhaklar walked around to inspect the back of the car, he found that it had one exhaust and that the trunk was decent in size. Lhaklar had only to look at the tank that was on the left side of the car to know that the car was one of them energy-run vehicles. Cars that ran on energy instead of gasoline had started being put out on the market in the late 2000's; it had taken nearly a hundred years before the humans switched over, though. The whole idea behind vehicles that ran on energy instead of fuel was to cut down on the pollutants that a gas-run car put out when driven. Cars that ran on energy didn't put out harmful substances when they were running—the exhausts exiled a non-toxic, non-pollutant plume of near clear smoke that evaporated within seconds. Energy-run cars ran better than ones that ran on gasoline. They lasted longer too.

"Good job, G." Bile said. He started looking for a salesperson who could open one of the car doors so he could take a look at what the inside of the car looked like. Lhaklar, seeing his chance to take over command, ran off to the dealership's office building. He was gone for all of five minutes; when he returned, he had a red-haired man with him.

"This is the one," he said. He pointed at the i8 BMW.

"You being serious, or are you kids playing a prank?" the red-haired man asked. "You old enough to buy a car or—"

"Sir, we're all in our thousands. We're old enough to both drive and buy a car." Lhaklar said. He showed the human his driver's license, which showed his date of birth as March 8, 1999.

"I'm aware of how old you kids are; my question is still the same. You old enough in your people's eyes to—"

"Our people's eyes..." Hazaar repeated the last bit of what the red-haired human had said. He ran them three words over his tongue for a second or two before speaking again. "Let's get out of here, guys. Don't know about you but I'm offended by this idiot's words."

"My older brother and I are old enough; our younger brothers aren't but we're including them in on this as well, just to make and keep things fair." Lhaklar said. Even he was offended by the red-haired man's words.

"I apologize—it's a basic question that needed to be asked." the human replied. He held his hands up when Guyunis took a step towards him. "My name's Torsten Arndorfer, I will be more than happy to open this car up and let you inspect it. If you wish to test drive it, just tell me. I'll get the key."

"Tha-k-t's better." Guyunis said.

Jurgen Maurer was in the can when the secondborn son of Angel Irene came into the building, asking for a salesperson, and Kathe Fischer was on the phone with a client, who was asking all sorts of questions about one of the cars that was in the parking lot. Markus Goethe had disappeared; he didn't know where he was. He was the only one available to help the kid—or be apart of some prank that involved a phony car purchase.

After seeing the kid, he stood up; after the kid explained his reason for being at the dealership, he had asked if he was being serious. The kid had said that he was then he had asked if he could help him with one of the cars that was on the lot. He followed him out to the car lot then he did what he said he would after they reached the car in question that the kid, and his bruders, seemed to be interested in—after inserting the key into the keyslot that was on the car's driver's side door, he twisted it then pulled it out. He stood back afterwards.

The older boy, Bile was his name, looked inside the car first then Lhaklar looked in. Hazaar looked in next then the youngest of Angel Irene's sons, Lazeer was his name, looked in. The black-skinned kid, that he didn't know the name of, only glanced in before stepping back. The five kids walked off to have a private chat after viewing the car's interior—he stayed where he was; which was in front of the car, waiting for the prank's punchline to come rolling towards him. True, he didn't know any of the rules or laws that the "other" species had to their governments, and he didn't know when it was okay for one of the offspring of the "other" species that were out there in the Universe to purchase a car—on his planet, it was normal for the adults to purchase cars; the kids looked and fantasized but they didn't purchase... Only when one of the younger generation, that was between sixteen and eighteen years of age, walked in with a hand-written note from their parents, that said they could buy a car, did a kid purchase a vehicle. It would be bad business if he up and sold one of the dealership's vehicles to a bunch of kids; he could well lose his job, and the dealership's image would drop from what it currently was.

He would of had no problem in showing or selling them a car if the kid had come into the building with a hand-written note from his mummy or datty that said something around the area of their giving their child permission to look at and then purchase a car. All he saw was a driver's license that claimed that one of the kids was born in 1999—which he knew was true; the secondborn son of Angel Irene was born in the early months of that year. He wasn't shown any written notes though, which was why he was reluctant to help his young clients out.

He was one of the younger people working in the dealership; he was just twenty-four years old but that really meant nothing. A person could be in his fifties and not act it; he had to keep on his toes and keep an eye out for the troublemakers that came in looking to brew up some of them good pranks that could either damage the dealership's image or make a salesperson look like a fool. He went to the Karlsruhe Institute of Technology for a mechanic degree; after five years, he graduated. He started looking for work right after he graduated.

Deutsch Autos was the fourth establishment that he had applied for a job at; Jurgen Maurer had looked his application over, then had asked him a few questions, before sending him home. He had received a call a week after he walked into the establishment; Mr. Maurer had asked if he was still looking for work and if he was still interested in working as one of Deutsch Autos's salespeople. He had said yes to both. It had only been two years since he started working at the dealership; he had made some fine friends and he was well respected... he was still considered a rookie, though. He did his best to be as professional as he could, and he did his best to be polite, but there were them customers that just went too far—he had snapped at maybe two or three customers for their rude antics in his career. He really hoped that he wouldn't have to get rude towards Angel Irene's kids. He didn't want any bad attention drawn his way. To make matters seem worse for him, he didn't much like the black-skinned kid that was in the group. The kid that had the glowing yellow, scalene triangular-shaped eyes looked like a troublemaker to him.

"Think we'll skip the test drive—we like this car so much that we're willing to stick our necks out on it." Bile said. "Lhaklar and I have our identifications and our driver's licenses on us; Hazaar and Lazeer have their learning permits, if that's good enough to identify them by."

"Can you take us inside so we can fill the appropriate papers out and then pay for this car, Mr. Arndorfer?" Lhaklar asked. Torsten Arndorfer had said nothing after they asked him if he could lead them into the dealership building. He just stood in place, looking at them.


	11. Chapter 11

"For new car owners, you boys are being awfully quiet about your car." Angel said the morning after her sons purchased the i8 BMW, that Guyunis saw in the parking lot of Deutsch Autos. "Something happen during the purchase that dampened your mood, or did someone do something to make the experience less exciting for you?"

Guyunis, Hazaar, and Lazeer looked up in turn; they shook their heads then went back to eating their breakfast. The weather outside was nice; the forecast for the day claimed that it'd be slightly cloudy and in the mid-seventies. A rain shower was expected for later on that evening. With the weather being decent, and with there now being a car in the driveway that was all theirs, they should of been happy and excited... none of them were feeling happy or excited that morning and they had it all to thank on Lhaklar and on that idiot salesperson that Lhaklar brought over to help them with the car that they were interested in.

Lhaklar's immaturity, and attempts to govern what they were looking for in a car, was bad enough; having a human insult them was far worse. The man that Lhaklar asked to help them with the car was no help at all; he had seen their looking for a car as a joke. It had taken them three tries—three askings—before the man led them to building that was in the center of the parking lot; a fight had happened right after he did so. The man, along with saying that the business wanted nothing of their pranks or jokes, had said that they should be ashamed of themselves for trying to make him look like a fool, which was absurd. They hadn't been at the dealership to play pranks, or make anyone look like a fool, or cause trouble—they were only there to look for and then buy a car. Bile had tried to tell the man this. He had tried to remain calm, and he had tried to talk in a calm, steady voice... with the man being so fired up, and so insulty, Bile had snapped—his demeanor had gone from being calm to downright mean and angry within a half second. They had to grab him to keep him back from the man, who had made an innocent car purchase sound like a crime.

Bile wouldn't of gotten angry, and they wouldn't of had to hold Bile back, if the man hadn't of insulted or threatened them; the worst of Mr. Arndorfer's insults were directed at Guyunis—the man had called Guyunis a troublemaker, which had thoroughly pissed their adoptive brother off. After Mr. Arndorfer went after Guyunis, they had found themselves having to hold both Bile and Guyunis back. The two were right angry. None of the other employees in the building had come forward to gain control of the situation; they were left alone with Mr. Insult. They had just gotten Bile and Guyunis turned to facing to building's front door when the dealership's manager came over to see what was going on.

None of them had jumped to tell the tale of what happened; they had let Mr. Arndorfer speak first. After Mr. Arndorfer's twisted version of what happened was told, Lhaklar started relaying their side of things. The dealership's manager, a fifty-something year old man by the name of Jurgen Maurer, who had gray-green eyes, a bald head, and a potbelly, had listened to both parties before picking the story that he believed the most. After their version of what happened was told, he turned to look at Mr. Arndorfer—the message was pretty clear on the man's face; he hadn't been pleased with his employee.

Instead of firing Mr. Arndorfer on the spot for his rudeness towards them, Mr. Maurer told him to go to his desk. They were asked to follow him to the far back of the building afterwards.

After following him to the building's back, Bile and Lhaklar had stood before a big, steel-type desk that had all the basic equipment—an LED desk lamp, a stapler, a transparent blue cordless phone, an upright file holder, and a black pen—on it. They had stood before that desk for all of a minute before taking up the two chairs that were before it; Mr. Maurer had taken a seat in the black mesh chair that was behind the desk.

"I apologize for my employee's actions towards you. We do our best at Deutsch Autos to employ people who are kind and sincere, and we also try to hire people who will show our customers the respect that they deserve." Mr. Maurer had said. They knew right off the bat that he was trying to make sure that they understood that the company wasn't responsible for Torsten Arndorfer's actions towards them. They had just stared at the man; not a word from them was spoken for nearly two minutes. After two minutes and forty-six seconds of silenced happened between them and the man, the man started tapping his fingers on the surface of his desk. "Now then, how may I help you five?"

After thinking things over for a few minutes, Lhaklar said that they had an interest in buying a car—the one that Guyunis had seen. Most of what happened next was sort of boring for them. The man had taken all sorts of forms, and a mini-booklet, that was full of paperwork that Bile and Lhaklar had to read and then sign, out from his desk.

Naturally, they already knew that there'd be some paperwork that they'd have to read over and then sign; they had underestimated how much one had to do before the actual car purchase was done. Bile and Lhaklar had to read and then sign ten separate forms before going through the mini-booklet, which had around ten or fifteen pieces of paper in it. All of the pages in that booklet were required to be read, and the final page had to be signed—Mr. Maurer started the car purchase after this was done.

By the time the car purchase was underway, they were bored; there was a lot of yawning going on between Hazaar, Lazeer, and Guyunis. Bile and Lhaklar were struggling to keep from yawning themselves.

"Alright, I'll do the rest of the paperwork for you boys. Give you a break—you've read and signed a lot today." Mr. Maurer said after the mini-booklets were read, signed, and then returned to him. "I need two forms of identification—a driver's license and an identification card. Do you five have those?"

Bile and Lhaklar had pretty much gone pale—or, at least Lhaklar had; Bile had looked about ready to drop a load in his boxer shorts—when that question was asked. While they had real driver's licenses they had fake identification cards that, up to that moment in time, no one had ever paid much mind to. Lhaklar had swallowed once before standing up; he gave the man his two forms of identification. Bile followed in his example a few seconds later. The man had dug a five-page booklet from one of the files, that were behind his desk, then he set down to doing the rest of the paperwork. The man had put the required information in the five-page booklet: the name or name's of the car purchaser or purchasers; the name of the salesperson that helped the car purchaser or purchasers out with their purchase; the time and date of the purchase; and, of course, the name of the company where the car purchase was made.

Lhaklar was quick in providing an "explanation" on why his and Bile's identification forms were different after their photo I.D.'s and driver's licenses were handed over. With the exception of one, small, but very noticeable, detail, the two's I.D.'s looked almost identical to their driver's licenses—while Bile's driver's license had his actual birth-date of March 3, 1998 on it, his I.D. claimed that he was born on March 3, 4077 and, while Lhaklar's driver's license had his actual birth-date of March 8, 1999 on it, his I.D. claimed that he was born on March 8, 4078. Lhaklar had spun a lie, saying that the lady who made both his and Bile's cards for them had insisted on their cards having 4077 and 4078 on them instead of 1998 and 1999.

"She said that we'd be thrown in jail for having fake I.D.'s on our person if we went around with cards that have our actual birth years on them—she insisted on the cards being made out that way, sir."

"Isn't it well-known that you kids were born quite a long time ago?" Mr. Maurer asked. "I wouldn't think anyone would dispute birth year facts when a birth year is known."

"Not everyone knows or believes that. There are some out there that... you know, don't believe that we were born in 1998, 1999, 2399, and 2499." Lhaklar replied quickly.

"As far as I know, there's nothing in them history books that were written on our mother about our births." Bile said. "They just list us as being her sons."

"That so?" Mr. Maurer said before holding the two driver's licenses up. "Why do your identification cards have false birth years on them when these have your actual birth years on them?"

"A different lady did those," Lhaklar answered quickly. "Our father abducted us and our family before we could get them changed so they'd match with our I.D. cards."

Mr. Maurer gave Bile and Lhaklar a long look before sighing; he had said alright before going on to filling out the papers that he needed to do. Since Lhaklar had already explained the reason to why his and Bile's identification cards and driver's licenses had different D.O.B's on them, the man hadn't asked Hazaar or Lazeer the same question after asking them for their dual-forms of identifications and then receiving their learner's permits, which had their actual D.O.B's on them. The title for the car was made after all of the paperwork was done, and after Lhaklar paid for the car; even though the car was owned by all of them, only Bile and Lhaklar's names were on the title—Mr. Maurer had said that, until Hazaar and Lazeer got another form of identification, they couldn't be put on the title of ownership. That went double for Guyunis, who had no I.D. at all on his person.

After the paperwork was done, and after Lhaklar paid for the car—in full, so they'd not have to do a monthly payment plan for it—, Mr. Maurer gave them the title and then the keys to the car. After shaking the man's hand, then filing out of the building, they went to the car that they had just gotten through purchasing and then got in—Lhaklar was the first of them to drive it; he started driving it smoothly, and slowly, then, after they were a mile from the dealership, he floored it. None of their plans for the day were done; too much had happened... too much shock, and nervousness, had happened for their plans to be done. They were tired too. The i8 BMW had just been driven home and then parked under the carport; none of them had given it so much as a second glance after getting home.

"Give us a few more hours, ma. We're still in shock over you telling us to go buy a car." Bile said.

"Still dog-tired after doing that mountain of paperwork is more like it!" Lhaklar said.

"Man! That was boring just standing there, looking over you two's shoulders as you read and then signed that big pile of papers that that man gave you." Hazaar said.

"That bad, boys?" Angel asked.

"I thought I was going to nod off after Bile and Lhaklar started reading the booklet that they were given." Lazeer said. "Was that normal, mom? We didn't have to do but so much paperwork on our first day at Pronghorn and UT—" Lazeer looked across the table, at Guyunis, who merely glanced at him before going back to his breakfast of fried ham and eggs. "—and Goboshu's. Was that man treating us fairly or were we given more than our fair share of paperwork to read over and sign?"

"Sounds like you boys got a good lesson on life and paperwork yesterday. The paperwork that a student has to do on the first day of school is very little compared to what someone has to do when buying a house or a car." Angel replied. "Sounds like you handled it well. Did the dealership do the plates for the car, or did they just leave you with a filled-out piece of paper that acts as a temporary plate?"

"Uh-uh," Bile shook his head vigorously. "One of us will need to take the car down to the Road Safety Authority to get it registered and then get the plates made."

"Which one of you five is going to do that?" Angel asked.

That was a question that none of them wanted to deal with on that day or on the next or the next. After doing all that paperwork—or in Hazaar's, Guyunis's, and Lazeer's case, watching their older brothers do all the paperwork—, none of them wanted to be in any building, doing anything that required the use of a pen or pencil or a piece of paper. They had decided to go and do what they had planned to do the day before. Bile's plans were still the same; the dump in Au am Rhein was to have him as a guest right after breakfast was over. Lhaklar's plan in taking Guyunis to Karlsruhe was a little different—Guyunis had surprised everyone by saying that he was going to explore some of Elchesheim-Illingen. Lazeer had said that he'd be seeing him around Elchesheim-Illingen later on that day—he was hoping to explore the town too. Hazaar's plans for the day were pretty much the same as yesterday's—he was to try his damnedest to spend most of his time in the forest that was on their side of the Rhine river. Since Guyunis had decided to go off on his own that day, Lhaklar had announced his plan for starting his search for a job. Their mother had re-asserted her ground rules on his going out to find a job right after hearing what he was planning to do that day.

Lhaklar was only allowed to work part-time, and during the day, and he was also expected to be home before curfew on the days that he was suppose to be at work—the curfew was the same; seven o'clock sharp. If any of them came home later than that, there would be consequences. Lhaklar had nodded his head after their mother's ground rules were re-asserted; after saying that he understood her words, he went back to eating his breakfast.

"Guess I'm the fool stuck with taking the car to the Road Safety Authority." Bile said after no one volunteered to take the car to where it needed to go to be registered and then get the plates made so it'd be street-legal. "Since the tank's nearly on E, I'll take it to one of them energy refueling stations first."

"You'll have plenty of time to do what you said you wanted to do today, Biley." Angel said. "It's only a few pieces of paper that you'll need to fill out and then sign. You'll need to show who owns the car so make sure to take the title and all the information that... who was it that helped you with the paperwork for the car again?"

"Mr. Jurgen Maurer." Bile answered.

"Take everything that Mr. Maurer gave you yesterday with you. If you have to show a form of identification, you know what to do." Angel said. Bile nodded his head then went back to his breakfast.

They were quiet while finishing their breakfast; when they were done, they got up then went to do their usual in quick-washing their dishes and silverware and then setting them in the side of the sink that was for the dirty dishes. Once the dishes were squared away, they got ready to leave the house.

Angel was dressed in her work clothes—along with it being Tuesday, it was a workday; she was ready for work. She hugged each of her sons, then told them to be good, then left the house. While going past the house, she honked the horn of her car—all of her sons were standing before the living room windows. All of her biological sons had started doing the habit of watching her as she left for work at a very early age; she was proud to note that Guyunis seemed to have the habit wired into him. After she was down the road, her sons started going around, checking the house to see if it was locked up tight and checking to see if their things were on them.

Bile grabbed the paperwork that Mr. Maurer gave him and his brothers the day before then he grabbed the keys to the i8; before leaving the house, he glanced at his brothers—his glance said it all for them. He didn't need to tell any of them how he felt about having to do more paperwork on the car. Once Bile backed the i8 BMW down the driveway, Hazaar and Lazeer left the house then teleported; Lhaklar and Guyunis followed on their heels a short minute and a half later.

"They sure don't stay home much." Petra said after seeing Bile driving off in a car that, to her, looked newly purchased. "They leave sometime after eight in the morning—Miss. Irene stays away until three in the afternoon and her sons return home at around six."

"Sounds like a typical family to me." Kurt said. "The parent goes off to work in the morning, does her usual eight hours, then goes home and the kids stay out during the peak-sunlight hours."

"Where'd the money come from for that car, though?" Petra asked. "It looks brand new, and Miss. Irene just drove off in one of them new Porsche's. They have two cars now, did you notice, dat?"

"Sure did. None of my business to comment on it though." Kurt said as he raised his black and white striped mug to his lips. He took a sip of his coffee before returning the cup to the table.

"They probably got some sort of government assistance or something." Mitzi Klied said. "Mr. Leinart might of given them some money to help them get on their feet."

"Wouldn't a new car be taking that monetary help too far, mum?" Petra asked.

"The money is theirs to use on whatever they wish to use it on." Kurt was quick to say. "From what I've seen, they've made good of what they've been given in help from either Mr. Leinart or the government. The house looks good, everyone looks happy, and healthy, and everything looks as it should over there."

"But the car—"

"Drop it, Petra." Kurt said sternly. "If they didn't use what was left of whatever help they were given on purchasing the new car then they must of had some money that wasn't governmentally or presidentially given to them. Miss. Irene, or one of her kids, might of had some money of their own on their persons, or put away somewhere—it's really none of our business on where they got the funds for a new car, or for any other big purchases that they make."

"Miss. Irene, and her sons, aren't doing anything wrong, Petti. I can say that with confidence—they've been here for almost a month and no trouble's happened because of them. They're acting like a normal family—the kids go off after the parent leaves for work and they stay away until the late-afternoon hours." Mitzi said.

Like the Irene's, as they called the family that moved into the old Kaufer house, her family had just finished breakfast. Sarah had gone upstairs to freshen herself up before leaving the house—while at the table, she had said that she was headed to town for a browse-session in the community center with some of her girl-friends. Petra's plans for the day were far different than her sister's; she had said that she was going to stay around home that day, which was strange. Petra wasn't a homebody or a loner, nor was she a social outcast—she had plenty of friends. Mitzi knew that her oldest daughter had friends of both the male and female gender and she also knew that she was one of the social elite—a group of people who preferred to be out of the house during the daytime hours. Whenever Petra was at home—either after the sun had set for the day, or when she wasn't feeling well—, she was on the phone, talking with one of her friends.

It was very odd that her oldest daughter was sticking around home so much; Petra was paying extra attention to the Kaufer house lately and she and her husband were starting to get concerned about it. Petra was starting to get nosey towards their new neighbors, which could well make trouble—one of the Irene-boys coulds get offended by her constant attention-giving to the house that they lived in or Miss. Irene might get offended, concerned, or worse, angered over the unconscious threat that their daughter was sending out. Petra was unconsciously stalking the family; her daughter was sending out a message and a bad one at that by her constantly looking out a window at the family, or house, or by her constantly looking over at their house or at them when she was outside. She was telling them that she was watching them.

Sarah wasn't doing that; she was being a very pleasant and respectful neighbor while her older sister wasn't. Mitzi had done the quick-glancing thing during the first week of the Irene family's residence in the house then she had stopped. Her husband had done the same thing. They had noticed the boys coming home with one or two shopping bags from time to time—nothing criminal about that; boy children liked doing their browse and shop activities too. She and her husband had seen the car—a nice i8 BMW that looked very new—yesterday but they had said nothing about it. Like her husband had just said to their oldest child, it was none of their business on what their neighbors bought, parked in the driveway, or brought home.

Lots of people had two cars. She and Kurt had two cars; the Carver's, who lived on their left, had two cars; the Abbings had two cars and a motorcycle... she also knew a few people who owned three cars. The multiple car owning was done for a reason—some people just liked to have a back-up vehicle while others wanted to have two cars to save on the hassle of either car-pooling to work or school. There were some families out there that bought a second or third car for their kids' use; say the parents were out, either at work, or doing grocery shopping, and they took the car or cars with them. There was another car in the driveway for their kids to use if they decided to go out on the town or something. Mitzi believed that Miss. Irene used the Porsche D2 as her work-vehicle—the vehicle that got her to and then from work. Miss. Irene had left before her oldest son had; she had looked appropriately attired for a job—maybe Miss. Irene had decided to get a second car for her boys to use. For all Mitzi knew, all five of Miss. Irene's sons had driver's licenses or learner's permits... one of the older boys might even have a job or a girlfriend or something that would require the need of a car.

"Will you leave the Irene's be, Petra?" Mitzi said. She finished the dishes then moved away from the sink. "Nothing is off or wrong about our new neighbors. They're a normal functioning family that's just trying to live peacefully, and happily, in our neighborhood. There's no need for you to stay here today, or for you to watch them or their house. I want you to leave the house today. Go spend some time with your friends."

"Normal functioning family that brings home a car no more than two weeks and four days after they move into a new house?" Petra asked. "That don't sound normal to me."

"It's normal," Kurt said as he stood up. He stretched then started to leave the kitchen. "Leave the family be. Stop being a peeper and just leave the family be will you."

Petra watched as her father left the kitchen; when he was gone, she turned to look at her mother, who was giving her one of them stern, no-nonsense, type of looks. How could she explain it to them—that she was only watching the house that was beside her own to get a fleeting look or glance at the dark-skinned kid who had so intrigued her on the first of the month? She had yet to see what he looked like under that hoodie; them glowing yellow, scalane triangular-shaped eyes were the only things that she was able to see of his face. His upper body she could see; he didn't hide that under any sort of loose garment. His face, though, she wasn't allowed to see. That sort of troubled her. Was he hiding something or was he just being shy? A few days ago, she said hi to one of the older alien boys—Lhaklar was his name—and he had responded. She had also said hello to the older of Miss. Irene's sons and to one of the younger of the alien boys. They had all responded; the black-skinned kid, and the dark blue-skinned alien boy, were the only ones that she wasn't able to speak with or to—in a way, she was sort of glad on the latter kid; at the moment, he gave her the creeps.

How rude was that? She bet her mutter would have a lot to say on that, and on how she felt about the other Irene boys, if she ever found out what she thought about them. You think that the older of the "alien-looking" boys is very mature and respectful while you think that the older of Miss. Irene's sons is less mature yet maturer than his youngest bruder and you think that the youngest of the "alien-looking" boys is cute but somewhat strange while you have no opinion other than you're intrigued by the black-skinned kid and you think that Miss. Irene's second youngest son is creepy? Petra Klied, you know better than to judge people that quickly! All them kids are nice kids; they seem to be staying out of trouble and they seem to be very respectful of others. That was what her mum would say if she ever found out what she thought of them kids; she was trying her best to keep her true feelings to herself just to avoid her mutter's chiding.

Petra couldn't help these early feelings. They had just started up. She had no way of controlling them. She was curious, nervous, and scared of all of the sons that her new neighbor had. She knew that she should get to know Miss. Irene's sons before doing the judging thing but she just could do that right now. Mitzi Klied left the kitchen soon after her husband did; Petra went over to the phone once the room was empty of her parental units. While she did want to stay home, she didn't want to make her mother mad—she called her friend, Kirstin Abbing, quickly. When her friend answered the phone, she asked if she was doing anything that was away from their neighborhood. Kirstin Abbing said that she and several of their other friends were going out on the town; she also said that they'd be delighted if she joined them. Petra said that she was joining them on their planned excusion then left to get ready; she left the house that she and her family lived in five minutes later. Kirstin, and some of their friends, were waiting for her.

"Oh come on!" Bile said in a low voice. He had just driven the i8 BMW into the lot that was around the Energy Star One building; all of the energy pumps were occupied. Either the ones who owned the cars had parked their cars and then gone into the building or they were busy with the refueling of their car's tanks.

After leaving the house, he did exactly as he said he would—after driving the i8 BMW a mile, he teleported to one of the energy stations that he thought was close to the Road Safety Authority building. He appeared about a half-mile from Energy Star One; after driving the short distance to the store, he pulled in. He had hoped that there'd be a pump or two open as he didn't want to be sitting in-wait for one of the pumps to be made available... he didn't want to attract attention either. By the way things looked, it seemed that his luck was just out; not only had he found himself as being the one to take the car to the Road Safety Authority building but he was also finding himself as having to wait for one of the energy pumps to be made available to him. After applying gentle pressure to the gas pedal, he drove to where a rather rusty, beat-up looking truck was. He put the car in park afterwards.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited; the thought of taking the joint out from under the seat crossed his mind once or twice but he didn't dare reach down for it—doing that was asking for not only attention but trouble. He had just started to hum an impatient tune when a fat and rather sloppy and unintelligent-looking man walked out from the Energy Star One building. The man came towards the truck that was before the BMW slowly; when he reached it, he was equally slow in grabbing the energy tube from the pump's hook. It was a miserable five minute wait—the man unscrewed the cap from his truck's gas tank, then he screwed the end of the energy tube to the tank, then he stood back. After the man's tank was full, he repeated the same, slow process of unscrewing the tube and then putting the tank's cap back on. After putting the energy tube on the hook, he got into his truck then drove away. Bile took the man's place at the pump quickly.

It was as easy as one-two-three. He got out of the i8 BMW; he went into the little store, that was under the slanted roof that the energy pumps were under; then he paid for what the car needed. Once the bill was paid, he went back to the car. After flipping the lid to the car's tank up, he unscrewed the cap that was on the tank; once the cap was off, he reached back for the tube that was on the pump's hook. When the tube was screwed onto the tank, he pressed the orange button then waited.

When the pump made a beeping sound, he removed the tube from the tank. He placed the tube back on its hook then he screwed the tank's cap back on. He got back in the car then drove away afterwards. After a few minutes of driving, he teleported to the area where he thought the Road Safety Authority building was.

"You have to be shitting me!" he exclaimed. He was at the far eastern side of Elchesheim-Illingen now; there was a complex of buildings on either side of him and there was a huge building in front of him.

On instinct, he drove towards the bigger building. He parked the i8 in the parking lot then he gathered the information that he and Lhaklar were given yesterday. The building was more than huge—it was mammoth-sized! It was a three or four story, steel-type building that had big, blue windows running along its front, sides, and, he presumed, back. There looked to be many entrances and exits on the building; a glass tube ran out from its left side. There was no sign in front of the building so he didn't know if this was the Road Safety Authority or not; before getting out of the car, he checked to see if he still had his wallet on his person. When he found that it was still on him, he opened the driver's side door then got out.

Red and yellow flowers decorated the flowerbeds that went around the building; the walkway, that led up to the building, was flanked on both sides by yellow flowering hedges. As expected, the cement walkway was very clean and crack-free. He had to pinch himself after he reached one of the building's entrances—after stepping on the mat, that was before the glass doors, he found that they didn't slide to the side. They blinked out of sight. Once there, he saw his reflection for only a second then—blink—the doors were gone. He stood where he was for a minute or two then he stepped into the building; he turned around after he was in it—the glass doors had blinked back into place. Up to that moment in time, he had never seen doors that blinked away after someone walked up to them. He had seen glass doors that slid to the side, and that pulled up, but he had never seen glass doors that blinked out of view before. After getting over his shock over how the glass doors had reacted to his presence, he walked on.

"Pardon... pardon, sir? This is the Road Safety Authority building right?" he asked the nearest human that he came upon.

"Huh?" the human replied. Bile asked his question again slowly. "Ich weiß nicht, Englisch."

"Ist dies der Verkehrssicherheit behörde gebäude?" Bile said in German.

"Ja, ja." the man replied.

"Danke,"

Of the five minutes that he spent in the lobby, he found nothing but German-speaking folk—he was glad that he was as fluent in German as he was because he found himself asking the humans around him where he should go to get a car registered and then get the plates made for a car. He also asked where he should go to get a identification card made—he thought that, since he was there, he might as well get himself a real identification card. He was told that, for the car to be registered, he'd need to go to the second level; the room that he was looking for was six doors down on the hallway. He would have to go to the building's third level to get the plate's made. The room that identification cards and driver's licenses were made in was on the building's first floor—seeing as he was so close to that room, he decided to postpone getting the car registered and then getting the license plates made for a few minutes.

After going to the level's seventh room, he went straight up to the desk, which was in the room's far back corner. After signing himself in, he went to where one of the blue chairs was; he did the forms that he was given to do quickly then he returned them to the receptionist, who was an elderly lady with short, gray hair and blue eyes wearing a purple flowered dress and purple heels. The receptionist told him that it'd take two minutes before someone came in to call him to get his picture taken for the license—he figured that he'd simply stand by the wall and wait. He was miffed over how long it took before he was called in; instead of it being a two minute wait, like the lady had said it'd be, it was a long, fifteen minute wait.

"Sit zere sir," the man who called him was more than a little ugly. He was led into a white room that had a brown desk in it. One of them laser computers, that a laser-projected keyboard was connected to, was on the desk. The computer had a touch-type monitor to it; a camera was hooked up to it. He went towards the simple, blue chair, that was by the room's far back wall. Once seated, he placed the paperwork that he had on him on the floor, under the chair. "Smile, mister Bile."

He was glad to be out of the room and away from the man who wanted to be lightning-fast with things—getting away from the elderly woman, who told people that it'd be a two minute wait when it was really a fifteen minute wait, was a fine bonus. His new identification card was made; he paid the €5 that the lady at the desk said he needed to pay for it then he took the card and left the room. He stuck the new card in his wallet, right in front of his fake I.D.—which he was planning on keeping—, then he walked over to where he thought the stairs were.

He received a shock when he found that there were no stairs in the building; after asking around, he found that, if he wanted to get to the building's other levels, he'd have to take an elevator. After finding the elevator, then getting in, he pushed the button that had a 2 on it—he found himself bracing his body against the car's corner afterwards.

Along with making a loud-ass hissing sound, the elevator bucked twice. The idea of his puking his breakfast all over the car was thought, as was the one of his begging for someone to stop the machine that he had blindly stepped into—when the doors to the elevator opened a few seconds later, he wasted no time in getting out. After leaving the machine, he turned to look at it; after taking two steps back, then calming himself down, he turned around then went down the hallway. He went into the sixth room that was on the level a minute and a half later.

"You're him aren't you?" a woman who had long, brown hair and hazel-colored eyes asked him after he did the forms that the receptionist gave him after he explained his reason for being in the room. The woman was standing; it looked like she had just come into the room.

"Him who?" Bile asked in a playful way. He was quite use to this type of question. Like with his encountering some humans who ignorant or stubborn in thinking that he was evil, or that he was going to turn into being what his father was, the question of _you're him aren't you_ was a question that he was asked a lot.

"Bile Vile, the elder son of Angel Irene." the woman said. Bile noticed that she left out his father's name, which he appreciated.

"Yes,"

"Thought so." the woman sat in the chair that was beside his.

While he waited for what seemed like forever to be called, he spoke to the woman beside him. He learned that her name was Dorothea Pawlitzki; along with being in her late-twenties, she had a five-year old daughter. She was working on getting a divorce from what she called a "dead-beat of a husband". She had two things to take care of in the building—her driver's license had lapsed on her a week ago and so had the registration for her car. After hearing the woman out, and after learning what he did about her, he told her some of his current life.

He said that he and his family were living in Germany now and he also said that they were happy and settling in. After saying this, he spoke about Guyunis—it did not seem like it was six months, two weeks, and two days since Guyunis was adopted into his family! Dorothea commended his mother; she asked him a few questions about his adoptive brother, then about his other brothers, then she and he spoke no more. After they went "cold" on one another, Dorothea took the newspaper, that she had on her, out from her purse then started reading it.

On the paper's front page was an article on his father; since he had already read the morning paper, he didn't need to ask what the article was about.

Dark Dad was spotted as making his rounds of Europe and Eurasia yesterday—he, and three of his staff, were seen as walking the shield's other side. They were doing nothing but peering in, looking at the ones who walked the shield's interior. It was noted that his father's companions had notepads and either pens or pencils on them—it was believed that they were doing a simple "inventory" of what the population was in Europe and Eurasia. Dark Dad was also spotted near Elchesheim-Illingen; due to his being on the west side of the Rhine river, he wasn't able to see much—that side of the river was just as heavily overgrown as the east side of the river was.

His mother had read the paper before putting breakfast on the table; since Lhaklar was so interested in it, she gave it to him next. Their mother wasn't very concerned about how close his father was to them—she said that, since nothing happened after the man was seen, they were still safe. Mr. Leinart, as if on cue, had called a few minutes before she went off to work to reassure her that they were safe.

Mr. Leinart was a constant caller of theirs now; he called their number once or twice a day just to chat. Their mother, when they asked why the man was calling so much, claimed that he was just being friendly and that he was being a friend to them. Their mother had gotten a new cellular yesterday, sometime after getting off work—that morning, before saying that she needed to go or else, she'd be late for work, she gave its number to Mr. Leinart. He and his brothers had gotten the number too—after getting home, then getting unwound from her day, their mother gave it to them; with this being done, they knew that it was still them that was heavy in her mind and heart. She always gave them her cellular number before anyone else was given the privilege of having it. There were no questions asked on why she gave Mr. Leinart her cellular number; with his being said to be a friend of theirs, they had accepted that he would get it.

Bile did something that he hadn't done in a long time after he and Dorothea concluded their conversation—he slid his body down in the chair that he was sitting in. His new, slouched position was both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. The way he was sitting said it all for the people around him—he was bored with having to wait again. The room's clock said that it was 9:45 a.m.—he felt like he had been in the building for more than forty minutes.

Bile yawned unconsciously into the crook of his arm then sat upright in the chair. He started to wish that he had brought something to read before leaving the house—while there were a few magazines beside him, he wasn't interested in sifting through or picking one up to read. They were all female-related; their topics ranged in either pregnancy or gardening or women's health—all things that he had no interest in.

As he saw it, it was either he sit and wait it out until he was called or pick up and read one of the magazines that were near him. He decided to man up and do the former rather than the latter.

"Hey sexy," a blonde-haired woman, who was wearing fishnet stockings, black heels, and a low-cut, seamless side sash mini dress, that had red sequins on it, said to Lhaklar as he walked by. Her companion, a black-haired woman who looked to be in her forties, who was wearing one of them school-girl outfits, non-shyly grabbed Lhaklar's rear. She gave Guyunis's rear a nice slap a second later.

"You're best to ignore humans like them," Lhaklar said after turning to grab Guyunis by the arm. Guyunis had turned to look at the woman who slapped him; he had to grab and then pull him away from the two women. "They're cute and all but it's a good bet that they carry all sorts of diseases—from Gonorrhea to HIV to the warts."

"Why are we in this part of the ci-k-ty again?" Guyunis asked. Having his ass slapped by a woman had unnerved him a little.

"Nothing really. Just walking around, taking in the sights, and getting an idea of what the city looks like." Lhaklar replied.

The city that they were in was founded by Charles III William, who had been the Margrave of Baden-Durlach in the 1770's, on June 17, 1715; it was founded after a dispute occurred between the citizens of his capital, Durlach. The city was founded very similiarly to the construction of the Karlsruhe Palace; a palace tower was constructed at its center with thirty-two streets radiating out from it like the spokes of a wheel—or like the ribs of a folding fan.

Lhaklar had read somewhere in a book once that, because of the city's layout, travel was only possible along the radial streets and along the circular avenues that were around the center of the city. The same book had also said that the city's center was the oldest part of town—it lay south of the palace in the quadrant defined by nine of the radial streets. The central part of the palace ran east-west, with two wings, each at forty-five degree angles, directed southeast and southwest or parallel with the streets making the boundaries of the quadrant defining the city's center. The market square, which was where they had started out in after teleporting to the city, was on the street that ran south from the palace to Ettlingen. The town hall, or Rathaus, was to the west of the market square; the main Lutheran church, or Evangelische Stadtkirche, was to the east of the square; and the pyramid-style tomb of Margrave Charles III William was in the center of the square. Karlsruhe was considered one of three of Germany's neoclassically styled cities because of the placement of the town hall, the church, and the tomb.

The area north of the palace was park and forest. The Karlsruhe Institute of Technology, founded in 1825, Wildparkstadion, and many residential areas covered the area east of the palace, where gardens and forests had once been at one time in the past. From what Lhaklar could see, most of the streets that were built in 1715 were still around.

There was an oil refinery to the south; a zoo was in the east. The city had several museums, parks, and libraries in it. Lhaklar wasn't interested in the museums, parks, or libraries though; it was the city's shopping areas that held his interest. There were four shopping areas in the city before World War III; now, there were just two, but they were both impressive in both size and in what they offered to the tourists that were either traveling through or visiting the city.

There was nothing but three miles of shopping stores right in the center of the city—the one that was on the eastern side of the center of the city was called the Kaiserstrasse while the one that was on the western side of the center of the city was called the Ettlinger Tor Shopping Center. The Kaiserstrasse was probably the one that was more visited by the tourists that decided to come to the city; it was the main shopping spot for tourists for a very good reason—it was packed with retail outlets, shops, cafes and snack bars, and restaurants. Part of Kaiserstrasse was the old Post Galerie Shopping Center—the Post Galerie Shopping Center was found to be in very bad need of repair after WWIII and, since funds for rebuilding the area were low, it was decided to combine it with Kaiserstrasse. The mall was rebuilt sometime after WWIII thanks to the combining of the two shopping areas; it was still going strong to that day, as were the other shopping venues.

Lhaklar and his adoptive brother had appeared right in the center of Karlsruhe; between Kaiserstrasse and its sister-shopping area, the Ettlinger Tor Shopping Center. After appearing in the city, they walked off towards the Ettlinger Tor Shopping Center; so far, they only had to deal with a handful of grabby female humans that were wearing revealing or skin-tight clothing. While the Ettlinger Tor Shopping Center wasn't a bad place to be in, it wasn't what one would call a "family friendly" type of tourist shopping area either. The Ettlinger Tor Shopping Center was a mile and a half stretch that had nothing but shops featuring items like handcrafts, furniture, designer products, bike gear, sailing and outdoor equipment, clothing, jewelry shops, and cafes and restaurants; the Ettlinger Tor Mall was situated near the start of the shopping area. What made the Ettlinger Tor Shopping Center not like the Kaiserstrasse was the fact that there was a section of nothing but bars and strip joints, all located right in the center of the shopping center and all boasting a questionable clientele. Like the Kaiserstrasse and the Post Galerie Shopping Center, the Ettlinger Tor Shopping Center was also combined with another shopping center—the Südliche Waldstraße—after World War III. The combining of the two shopping areas wasn't based on saving money on repairs—the humans that controlled the country at the time had figured that it'd be a good idea to do in saving space and resources and, yes, saving money in building and street repairs.

Karlsruhe was a right big city; it was technically the second biggest city in the state of Baden-Württemberg—they were close to disputing that claim and the reason for that was because it had two, big malls, several gardens, museums, a forest and several parks, and two shopping centers in it. After teleporting to the city, they had found themselves as having to stop and then gawk at what they were seeing. Neither of them had seen a sight so big or so antique in their lives!

"And I thought the old downtown area of Green River, Wyoming was crazy!" Lhaklar said after he wrestled his way through five scantily clad women. "Broads all over the pl—"

"Give me that!" Lhaklar stopped then turned around; he walked over to his brother after he saw him snatching something from a red-haired woman's hand. Guyunis grabbed Lhaklar after retrieving the unknown object from the woman that his older brother had just walked by then he twisted him around to facing forward. Lhaklar walked forward after being pushed from behind.

"Guyunis, what in the worl—"

"You should really keep an eye on your back-side, bro." Guyunis said as he pushed the wallet, that he saw the red-haired woman take from Lhaklar's back pocket, into his brother's hand. "She took tha-k-t from you while you was walking-k by her."

"Damn!" Lhaklar cursed. He stuffed his wallet into the front pocket of his green and brown striped formal pants then walked on. "Lesson learned—that happened with both me and Bile in Green River once, too. Thanks for catching that one, G."

"No problem." Guyunis said. "Humans are natural thieves, i-k-t seems. Can't keep their hands to themselves."

"True, but I think that goes double for any species in the Universe as well." Lhaklar said.

They walked on; passing several small restaurants and cafes, and then one clothing store, before coming to the bars and strip clubs. There were about five bars in the center of the Ettlinger Tor Shopping Center; one of them was an upstairs/downstairs bar while the others were all single-level bars. All of the bars had someone standing just barely out of view on the inside of the door; they also had large, front windows on them. Lhaklar walked by all of the bars that he and his brother came upon. The urge to go into one of them, to check what they looked like on the inside, was strong but he had business to tend to before he could consider letting himself do a little exploring of the city. His whole reason for coming to the city of Karlsruhe was to check out the strip clubs; since his mother had given him permission to get a job, he figured that he'd best look for one that he had experience in and, since he had four years of being a male stripper—or dancer, as he called the it—under his belt, he figured that checking out the strip clubs was the best thing to do in looking for a job.

He had told his mother that he was going to look for a job in a mall, a place where money was sure to be spent and where the pay was expected to be better than decent. She had said for him to be careful then she had wished him luck; if she knew that he was actually looking for a job at one of the strip clubs that were in Karlsruhe she would of flipped and he might well be running for his life. She'd either chase after him with a dish towel or she'd have something else on her that'd not only leave marks on his body but also traumatize him emotionally and probably mentally. He loved his mother way beyond any words—his love for her had no definition—and he hated lying to her about his doings but, when it came to working for a living, he didn't want to have any old job where the pay was questionable and where he wouldn't be happy in what he was doing. The pay in being a stripper was very good; a stripper—or dancer—could make well over three hundred a day, or night. If he was employed as a male dancer at one of the clubs that were in the center of the Ettlinger Tor Shopping Center of the market square in Karlsruhe, he might well be bringing home anywhere between €300 to €600. He was going to try his best to adhere to his mother's rule of working part-time, and he was going to try to keep the Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday workday schedule that he had when living in Green River, Wyoming, and he was also going to do his damnedest to keep the daytime working hours as well.

Last night, while his mother was at the stove, making the evening meal, he made some calls; with Guyunis being with her, learning the basics on how to cook, and with Bile, Hazaar, and Lazeer all being in the dining room, he had decided to grab the phone and then lock himself in his room. He had figured that that was the best time to sneak off to use it—his intended calls were dangerous ones, after all. There were six strip clubs in the section of Karlsruhe that he and Guyunis were in; he had called all of them last night to ask some basic questions like, if the owner had any spots open on the establishment's stages, and if the owner employed male dancers, and what the fee for the use of one of the establishment's stages was.

Of his six calls—out of nearly forty-five minutes of worrying that his mother would find the phone missing and then start her rounds in asking who had it or where it was—, he only had two places of hopeful possibility. One of the strip clubs that was possible job number one was called Die Gute Wendung—in translation, that was The Good Twist. The man who owned the business said that he employed both men and women and that there were five places open at the time of his calling. The fee for the club's stage was quoted as €30. The business was open from early morning to early evening—from 5:30 a.m. to 9 p.m. He was about to decide on that strip club as his new place of work when the owner said that the men could watch the male dancers whenever they wanted; they could travel to the side of the building where the men did their dancing and they also had right in asking the male dancers for a little private session if they wished it. Being that he was straight, and being that he didn't much like the idea of having men watch him as he danced, he had decided that the Die Gute Wendung wasn't the best of places for him to work at. He had decided to make one more call and that was to the Die Heiß und Hastig—translation, The Hot and Hasty.

The owner of the Die Heiß und Hastig had told him that there were always two or three slots open for part-time dancers and that the place was clean and well-organized—which he liked. There were multiple stages, or stands, that had poles on them, or that were just bare, and there were also a few crib-like areas in the center of the establishment that were for the experienced dancers who wished to gain a few more bucks for their shakes. Unlike the other strip joints in the Ettlinger Tor Shopping Center, the Die Heiß und Hastig had several bouncers watching the front and back and there was a bouncer always stationed outside the front door who asked for any and all weaponry—like knives or guns or anything else that could penetrate the skin or hurt someone inside the building—to be shown and then handed over and, naturally, one was required to show an I.D. before being allowed in the building

The back section of the joint was dedicated to the bar—which was always stocked, the owner had said—and there were tables and chairs all over the floor for patrons to sit at. The owner had said that her office was situated in the far corner of the building; the door was always open so, if any of her employees wanted to come in to speak with her, they could without knocking. The owner, a woman named Janina Duerr, claimed that her establishment was only for female customers and that she employed only male dancers and that the bouncers were on orders to let only women into the establishment. Miss. Duerr had sort of sealed his desire in wanting to work at the Die Heiß und Hastig with that line—no men to watch him dance, no male customers to make him feel nervous or embarrassed, and no males to ask him for some alone time. While he was perfectly fine with people who preferred their own gender as a partner, he had no wish in having a man's eyes gaze at him lustfully or in having a man ask him for a private session in one of the back rooms.

"Uuuuhhh... think I'll leave you here, bro." Guyunis said after Lhaklar stopped before a blue building, that had light blue paned windows, that had the words Die Heiß und Hastig on them.

"You sure? I'll only be a few minutes." Lhaklar said. The carpet, that was under his feet, was long and medium-blue in color. The carpet was under a round, blue-colored marquee awning; it ran right up to the building's front door. A big, African man, wearing a blue shirt, black pants, and black shoes, was standing in front of the building's front door; Guyunis nodded his head when he saw the man. "Well... alright then. I'll see you later. Take care of yourself, stay out of trouble."

Guyunis watched as Lhaklar went down the medium-blue carpet; when his older bruder stopped, he was in front of the African man. Lhaklar took his wallet out from the pocket that it was in; after opening it, he took something from it. Guyunis saw Lhaklar hand the man a square of plastic that didn't only some words on it but that also a photograph on its left side; the man took it, looked at it, then nodded his head. Lhaklar went into the building after the plastic square was returned to him. Guyunis shuddered; his promise to keep all of what his bruders did when they were out of the house and away from mum haunted him for a few seconds—while he intended to keep that promise, it seemed so strange that one of his older bruders was a stripper.

The big, African man said something to someone that Guyunis couldn't see then he walked down the carpet; Guyunis started to walk down the street just as the man reached the end of the carpet. He wanted no trouble from any of the humans that were in the area. He had just been standing in front of the building that his brother had just gone into. The Africa man smiled a slight smile, nodded his head, then turned and went back to his post; Guyunis continued walking down the street.

The unseen, blue eyes that followed him as he went down the street were wide with surprise; the eyes had seen Lhaklar enter the strip joint—the pair of hands, that were attached to the unseen being's arms, had made sure to document that piece of information. The black box, that had a glass lens on its side, that the being was holding, had been used a lot in the last two minutes; the being had practically kept his finger stationary over the box's trigger button after seeing Lhaklar and Guyunis. Guyunis couldn't see the blue-eyed being that was currently following him—the blue-eyed being could see him well but, thanks to a series of trash cans, that were arranged in front of the shield's backwall, he couldn't see him. The shield that was around the city of Karlsruhe was very close to where he was; there was just a small foot of space between the buildings that were to his right and the backwall of the shield. This closeness had allowed the still-unknown and unseen, blue-eyed being to document everything that was going on in the city—the blue-eyed fellow had taken advantage of this closeness; his decision to do that was paying off rather handsomely for him.

The blue-eyed being that had the box that had the glass lens on its front snapped several photographs of Guyunis then, after Guyunis teleported out of the area, he lowered the box. Just as Lhaklar was walking into Janina Duerr's office, the being that took advantage of how close the shield was to the center of the city teleported. He appeared on a dark and nearly deserted beach, that was located in Florida. Once he was on the beach, he started walking towards a small bungalow that was surrounded on three sides by tall palm trees.


	12. Chapter 12

Thunder cracked ominously as the dark sky was split by bright-flashing, yellow and red lightning. The ever-changing winds made the beach's pristine white sand fly all over the place while the angry-looking waves, that were blowing in from the sea, were causing a whitish-gray foam to appear whenever they crashed into the shore. Due to the ever-changing wind gusts, the foam was mixing in with the beach's wind-evicted sand.

The energy, that the storm was giving off, made him smile; thanks to this energy, and to the sense of doom that the storm was giving off, he felt happy and excited. Even though the storm that was coming in was small in comparison to the ones that happened on his birth planet, he was looking forward to experiencing it. This was to be his first real experience in experiencing a storm that happened on the planet that he had claimed as his over two thousand years ago and he was hoping to enjoy it from its start to finish.

The clouds above were numerous, and nearly as dark as the sky itself, and were heavy... They were pregnant with rainwater that was soon to be dropped over the beach that was neatly sandwiched between Florida's Miami Beach and Key Largo.

When a bright bolt of lightning made the sky turn a brilliant crimson color, he had to stop to take in the sights that were around him. The foam and swirling sand; the palm fronds, that had come detached from the trees that lined the beach; the sound of the waves crashing against the shore; and that temporary, crimson-red sky made his inner evil bubble and churn. While he was no storm fanatic by any means, he did like to experience one or two storm systems on his conquered realms; from what he could tell, he had a feeling that he was going to like the one that coming in.

He continued on his way after taking in the sights that were going on around him; when he reached the sand-beaten bungalow, that he had been residing in for a little over two weeks, he wasted no time in grabbing the knob that was on the door. He twisted the knob then he pushed the door in; thanks to the ever-changing wind, the door banged loudly against the inside wall of the bungalow's kitchen. Since the bungalow wasn't his property, and since he could give two hoots of a damn for the structure, he didn't bother worrying about the hole that the door's knob had made in the wall.

"So, I see that you've gone from living a life of extravagance and pride to cramped and dull."

He stopped dead in his tracks. The door to the bungalow swung back and forth on its hinges before banging against the kitchen wall again. The wind from the incoming storm blew the beach's sand into the small building; the air, that was in the building, had a very electric feeling to it. As he stood there, looking into the building's near pitch-black darkness, the building's air grew thick and tense and even more electrified. His body grew taut. He felt his muscles go tense and he felt his senses go on high-alert.

He had a rule when it came to visitors—an important one that he learned from his parents when he was a right young child. All of his visitors were to either call or send in a letter that included a warning that they were coming over; he typically either turned all unexpected visitors away when they came up on his doorstep or he gave the order that the door not be opened or for the visitor to not be addressed after they were noticed. He couldn't do that with this visitor... this unexpected visitor had already let herself into his temporary residence; he couldn't turn her away and he couldn't ignore her either. When a crack of lightning happened outside, he was able to see her; she was seated in the small kitchen, on the chair that he used when he consumed his meals. She looked to of made herself at home, which pissed him off.

Master Vile grumbled; he moved the green folder, that he had in his left hand, over to his right before turning to close the door. The floor, that was in the bungalow's kitchen, had a good layer of sand on it now; he'd be giving either Lynster or Galong the order to sweep it all out after he saw to his unexpected visitor. With the door closed, Master Vile turned back to face his visitor; due to the storm, the bungalow's interior was very dark. While he knew his visitor was a female, and while he knew where she was in the building, he had yet to identify her. There was an oil lamp on the table; it had oil in it but it wasn't lit, which surprised him. The storm was coming in for nearly two hours now; it was growing darker by the minute outside so his little unexpected visitor had been sitting in the growing dark for, what he believed, a while. He found it quite odd that his visitor hadn't had the common sense to turn the lamp on. He was also unnerved by how his visitor had remained in the dark.

It was the voice that told him that his visitor was a female; when his visitor spoke, she had a feminine, soft, and comforting voice that had a touch of sternness added in for flavor. He walked forward after seeing the visitor's silhouette; he placed the green folder on the table then he reached his hand forward. He turned the oil lamp's dial once then he found himself snickering. His visitor was none other than his uncle's mother—Ashaklar Zoopray who, sometime after divorcing his grandfather, had gone and married a farmer and miner named Cheshire Ubalki.

"What is your purpose for trespassing on my planet, Woman?" he demanded in a very foreboding voice.

"You don't scare me one bit, Vile." Ashaklar Ubalki, née Zoopray, replied.

"What are you doing here?" Master Vile demanded again. "You have no purpose here. You have received no permission from me to be on this planet. Why are you here?"

How his grandfather, DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit, had managed to be attracted to or was able to stomach the idea of mating with the woman that was seated in front of him was beyond him; she looked nothing special and she didn't look promising in the bed or child-bearing department either. The woman, Ashaklar Ubalki, was of the Zetakin race; she was a tall woman who had dark blue skin and a nice, trim, petite body that had medium-sized breasts that made her appearance look slightly off-balanced. Her upside down, teardrop-shaped head had two large oval-shaped eyes in it that were a shiny, silver color. There were two holes were a nose would normally be under them eyes; the mouth, that was under them two holes, was O-shaped. The woman's long arms ended in hands that had suction cups on the tips of each finger.

Ashaklar Ubalki, the mother of his uncle, TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, and his aunt, QeetaVile Tintissi Surfeit, was wearing a long, blue dress that was slightly open on the front. She had blue heels on her feet. There was a blue sapphire and diamond necklace hanging from around her neck. Master Vile saw the woman in front of him as delicate; not worth any real man's time and not really deserving of the title of Conqueror's Mother. Her whole physique looked so delicate and fragile to him; he bet her arm would snap or splinter if he grabbed it. Ashaklar Ubalki, who had acquired and then lost the name of Surfeit after marrying and then divorcing his grandfather, remained quiet for a short while. She simply stared at him with them expressionless, oval-shaped, silvery eyes of hers; it was only when he was about to repeat his question of why she was in the bungalow that she spoke.

"To see what you're up to and why you haven't been helping us look for Angel or her sons." Ashaklar said in a cool, calm way.

"You have no business in asking or wondering of my activities." Master Vile snarled.

"No, but I do have business in wondering where Angel and her four boys are." Ashaklar replied.

"You have no business in wondering or asking about my daughter-mate either."

"She is my son's wife... His Universally chosen mate, and the mother of his children." Ashaklar said. "That makes her my daughter-in-law, Vile. A member of my family. I have plenty of right in asking, and wondering, about her."

"She is no member of your family; never has been and never will be." Master Vile said.

"She's married to my s—"

"She is not married to Tazir!" Master Vile bellowed right when a crack of thunder was heard. He slammed his hands down on the table then leaned forward. Ashaklar moved not an inch; she seemed totally unfazed by his threatening stance, which caused him to feel more anger.

"You don't scare me one bit, Vile." Ashaklar said, again in that calm and cool way. "What's in that folder you came in with? Important conqueror stuff or—"

He swung his hand at her; the fear, that he wanted to see, flashed in the woman's eyes as she went sailing back. She flew from the chair to the floor; as he rounded the table, she brought her hand up to the cheek that his hand had struck. Her large, oval-shaped, silver-colored eyes went wide with terror as she watched his progress; she tried to get to her feet after he finished his walk around the table—her attempt was made much too late. She was on her feet one second then she was shoved back down to the floor the next; a laugh escaped his lips after he gave her a firm shove, then a wicked smile spread across his face as he lunged to grab her arm. Ashaklar Ubalki, who had once been his grandfather's wife, and who had given his grandfather two children, made a noise then swung her arm up. He saw a flash of silver then he found himself taking a half dozen steps back. He brought his hand up to his cheek—it felt warm and wet; when he took his hand down, he saw that there was blood on his palm and fingers.

The little bitch had assaulted him! The bitch, who had dared to come to his planet uninvited, had had the nerve to swing a silver wand at him—had dared to strike at and then draw blood from him! Master Vile roared as he jumped at the woman; he had just wrapped his hands around her thin and delicate neck when, from the corner of his eye, he saw movement. He had no more released his hold of the woman when a burst of yellow energy struck him; he howled more in shock than in pain or fear as he was flung across the small kitchen by the energy beam that struck his body. As he shook his head, a Goblin—yet another uninvited guest to his planet—walked out from the bungalow's one bedroom. While he was annoyed over Ashaklar's presence on his planet, he viewed the Goblin as a threat—the Goblin was lying in wait just a few feet from him... He could well of been killed by the little fucker!

"Should I zap him again, Mrs. Ubalki?" the Goblin asked fiercely.

"No—only zap him if it's necessary." Ashaklar said as she stood up.

"You two leave my planet at once!" Master Vile bellowed. "Leave it and don't come back! You do not have my permission to be here and—"

"If my daughter-in-law is on the planet, we are allowed to be here." Ashaklar said as she snatched the folder up from the table. "Let my peepers see what you have hidden in here."

She let the Goblin, who her son had asked to accompany her, take care of the man who had harmed her as she opened the folder. She and her family, for the last seven months, had searched relentlessly for Angel and her sons while the man that she had decided to pay a little visit to had done nothing but continue his life—her family was extremely angry at the man, as was her oldest son and his family. Ashaklar took a few steps back after opening the folder—she had anticipated Master Vile's lunge, and she had pre-guessed the fist that he would try to swing at her. The Goblin reacted quickly in sending the vile soul away from her. The Goblin swung his fist at Master Vile; a blue band of energy struck the man in the chest then sent him nearly flying through one of the bungalow's kitchen windows.

Ashaklar struggled to retain the laugh that threatened to come out; to her, the idea of seeing Master Vile, the man who had fathered her daughter-in-law, and her daughter-in-law's oldest child, flying out of any open window was hilarious. The Goblin, her son's Most Trusted employee, was given specific instructions by her son. He was to be as persistent, mean, and nasty as could be in both protecting her and in putting the man who was her oldest son's nephew in his place.

What had the man done to deserve such treatment from her tag-along and from her? Well, besides possibly saying something that caused her daughter-in-law to collect her sons and then flee from them again, he had hurt her in the past. Most of the marks that were on Angel Irene's body had come from him—not to mention, he had tried to claim her life once and he had also tried to kill her two older sons too. A day never went by without her getting down on her knees, thanking the Universal Gods for their not allowing Master Vile to kill Bile and Lhaklar and for their reversing the murder of Angel. She loved Bile just as much as she loved Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer—even though Bile wasn't her grandson by blood, she accepted him like one and she treated him like one and she loved him like one. If Angel ran off because of something that her father had said to her, everyone on both sides of the family, from hers to her son's, would understand. Ashaklar's throat tightened slightly at the memory of how her son was after he discovered that his wife and sons had disappeared from his home on the early morning of January 28. Her oldest child and only son from her first marriage had been a mess; her son, who was usually so calm, cool, collected, and calculating, had turned into an emotional mess.

He had done the interviews on his family and staff as well as he could without letting his emotions get the better of him then, after telling nearly everyone in his house, who had come over for their extended stays, to pack their things up and then leave, he had lost it. He had started crying right after sitting in his office. All of the stress that he felt over the two months that his wife and sons were returned to him was expressed. He had wept over the fact that his wife and sons had disappeared from his residence again for all of two hours before calming down. She, as his mother, was concerned but she had let him be. She had thought that he'd be okay after all of them stresses were wept out of his system but, surprisingly, that hadn't happened. What happened next was a shock.

He had come close to firing ten of his staff—one including Eldass Zultoa, his second Most Trusted employee and the oldest Goblin in his service—and he had come very close to asking her and her family to both leave his residence and to take Eshal with them. Eshal, her oldest grandchild, was an emotional wreck as well but she wasn't as emotional as her father, who had very nearly lost control of his sanity. The day after Angel and her sons disappeared, word had reached her son that the riots on Axalwen had escalated; the leaders had started taking people that were loyal to her son captive. They had also started their campaign to seize control of the planet.

Her son had reacted in a very violent fashion—a thousand of his Goblin troops were ordered to the planet; he had joined them shortly after that order was made. A mini-battle had happened; he had let all of the rest of his emotional, and all of his mental, stresses out during that rather spectacular battle. All of the leaders of the riots were captured within four days after that battle occurred; her son had used his sword to behead them then, after their beheading, he had ushered out the order for everyone who had participated in the riots to be captured and then thrown over a cliff into an ocean. His troops had done as he had told them to; she couldn't remember how many were thrown over a cliff—a thousand, maybe two thousand. The ocean, that was at the base of the chosen cliff, had swept all of the bodies out to sea so none of the bodies were recovered. After taking care of the riots, he set himself down to getting the government on that planet reinstated. New officials were appointed, and a set of new laws were made, before he came home. After a three-day rest, he started looking for his wife and sons.

The papers all said that her son had turned Moas upside down in looking for his wife and their sons and that was true—he had given an order to his staff, and to five hundred of his troops, to search the planet for Angel, Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer; they had done so. Not an inch of the planet was forgotten. He had searched the moons that orbited the planet while she and her family started looking for Angel and her sons in the Zeta Reticuli system. Her son was very aggressive in asking people if they had seen his wife and sons and her husband and Efagti, her and her husband's oldest son, had done the same while she and the rest of her family had searched and asked questions in a calm and polite manner. Cheshire, her husband, and Efagti were arrested for their aggressiveness; they had spent all of four days in jail before Tazir bailed them out. The male members of the Surfeit family had joined the search for Angel and her sons soon after Moas, the moons that orbited Moas, and the Zeta Reticuli system were searched; Master Vile had also joined it... for a week, then he dropped out to go "conquer campaigning" on Earth.

She, her family, Tazir, and the rest of the Surfeit clan had found that to be very odd. Though not much help back then, Master Vile had searched for Angel and her sons for two hundred years after their first disappearance occurred—which happened sixteen hundred years ago. With this new search, he hadn't helped much. An hour's worth of fliers were handed out, a few questions were asked, then he went home for the rest of the day; while they went from planet to planet, and lost sleep, and were putting out radio and television broadcasts asking for assistance in finding their missing family, he was resting comfortably at his place on Gamma Vile. When news reached them about how he had "happened on a way of getting into the shields that were on Earth", and about how he had started a campaign in taking the planet under his full control, the thought of his having Angel and her sons in his possession, and that he was using Angel as a means to get into the shields that were keeping the people of Earth and their civilizations safe, had crossed their minds. How could he of just "happened" on a way of getting into the shields when there was no way into them? Unless you was an evolved, sentient species, that could withstand the pressure and resistance of a shield, you couldn't penetrate the shields. Vile's parents were the only ones keeping up-to-date on their son—it was through them that they knew of the man's activities.

"I can do this all day and not grow a bit tired," Homsi Modulavich, a four foot, six inch tall Goblin who had brown skin and large, expressive, blue eyes, that were set in a very serious face, said. He dodged the sphere of blue energy, that Master Vile had thrown at him, then he threw a sphere of purple energy, that equaled the one that had just been thrown at him, at the man. Master Vile howled after the purple energy sphere struck him in the thigh; the man dropped to his left knee for only a second before finding himself flying through the open window of the bungalow.

"Teach him good, Homsi." Ashaklar said.

At first, the folder contained nothing of interest to her. The documents, that were in it, were done in a very heavily overdone statistical style that she hadn't seen in thousands of years. There were about ten pages that documented the human population that resided on the North American continent; the records, that were made on the humans that resided in Central and South America, were small in regards to the North American population. The folder had just two pages of printed material, that documented the population that resided in Central and South America, in it. A paperclip kept all of them pieces of paper together; the printed material was on the folder's left side. The folder's other side had a lot of hand-written material on it.

Nine pages of hand-written records, that detailed the thought-to-be populations of Europe and Eurasia, met her eyes; the population that lived on the island nations was very slim in comparison to that of what was believed to live in Europe and Eurasia. Behind the hand-written documents were several satellite images of Europe, Eurasia, and the island nations; there were more photographs behind the satellite images.

Ashaklar was about to sigh in defeat when she saw a flash of green in one of the photographs that was behind the satellite images. She was just sliding the photograph, that had caught her attention, out from the folder when Homsi leaped between her and Master Vile. The Goblin grabbed the orange stream of energy, that Master Vile had sent in her direction; he managed a fast-twist maneuver then he shot it back to its sender. Master Vile ducked to avoid his returned attack then he sent a wave of purple energy towards the Goblin. Homsi's reaction time was more than perfect—he stomped his foot down then he swung his arms up; the roof of the bungalow was blown completely off the building after he redirected the energy wave that Master Vile had sent his way.

"How long have you had this?" Ashaklar stepped out from behind Homsi, who looked at her quickly before turning his attention back towards Master Vile. "This is a photo of my oldest grandson... How long have you k—"

"I haven't had a chance to look through anything that's in that folder so I can't answer that question." Master Vile said as his chest heaved up and down; besides being caught off guard by the Goblin, he hadn't been able to keep his balance very well when he and the Goblin were fighting.

"Who took this photo?" Ashaklar demanded to know; she held the photograph, that she removed from the folder, out so Master Vile could see it. "Who, Vile?"

Oh how he loved them days that turned sour in the snap of a finger. The days that started out good only to turn to piss were his least favorite days; he wished that he could wipe them out of existence. What had he done before deciding to head to the bungalow for the rest of the evening? Well, after waking at dawn, then eating a hearty breakfast, then going home to take a shower, he went to the White House to deal with the day's business. He was required to be hard on several of his staff, and he actually had to slap the Secretary of the Press lady twice for her continued disobedience and disrespect towards him, but, all in all, the day was going well. Before going to the Oval office, to get busy with the day's paperwork, he had read numerous newspapers and had done a little watching of the news that told of what was going on on the side of the planet that he had control of.

After going to the bungalow, then eating lunch when that hour came around—his two, unexpected and uninvited visitors hadn't been there so he was able to enjoy that meal in peace—, he decided to do a little walking in the cities and towns of Florida and Georgia. Along with getting a lot of stares from the humans that lived in the areas that he walked through, he encountered several who lunged at him and some who tried to punch him—he took care of these by giving them a good left hook. After he finished his walks, he received word from Lynster—the Claydo had just returned from Gamma Vile after developing what he had taken with his camera yesterday.

"Sir, do you think today's appropriate for all that I've acquired from my ten-day visit of Europe to be handed over?" he remembered the man asking him after he returned to the White House.

Seeing as he couldn't get into the shields that were over the planet's eastern hemisphere, he had instructed all but two of his staff to remain in Europe, Eurasia, and the island nations. While Lynster was given the order to stay in Europe and scope certain parts of it out, Galong Exadhoo had received the order to scope certain parts of Eurasia out—the man claimed that, while he saw many humans, he saw no hint of his daughter or her sons. Curiously, Rourke Ibmhun had also seen nothing of interest—he was ordered to scope out certain parts of the island nations right after the order for Lynster and Galong to scope out parts of Europe and Eurasia was given. The only two of his five-man staff to not receive an order to scope out a specific area in Europe or Eurasia or the island nations were Nygiti Meltin and Glog Esftu—the latter of whom had it easy; Glog's only job was to prepare and cook his meals.

Due to his heavy schedule, and to his being very busy the last ten days, he had told Lynster to just take notes and photographs of what he saw in Europe. He had told his employee that, when the time was right, he'd ask for everything that he had compiled.

Since that day was so decent for him, he had acknowledged his interest in wanting to have all of what the Claydo had acquired for him.

Unlike the rest of his staff, Lynster and he went back a long ways; the man was a member of his father's staff when he was growing up. From around the age of seventy-nine or so to three hundred and forty, Lynster was his nanny—while his parents were away, attending important meetings and/or dinners with the people who ran the lower forms of the governments that were on the planets that were in his father's conquered galaxies, the man took care of him. His mother took over his care after he hit three hundred and forty—even though Lynster was demoted to being a simple employee, they had remained close throughout his childhood and teenage years. When he was disowned by his father after he conquered Gamma Vile, he remembered the Claydo.

He remembered it very well—the day that he approached Lynster, to see if he'd drop his father in favor of working for him, was a fine, but bitterly cold, one. He was as cool as could be on that day; no hint of what he wanted was shown in his movements. Upon his approach, he had asked the man how happy he was with working for his father. After he discovered that the Claydo wasn't feeling as appreciated or as happy with working for his father as he use to be, he had asked him if he'd consider dumping his employeeship with his father and work for him instead. The Claydo had said that he would; he had quit working for his father then he had started working for him the day after their talk occurred. The rest was ancient history.

Despite their history, and the rich trust that he had in the man, he didn't trust the man as much as, say, his uncle did his own employees. He wasn't and he did not want to be like his uncle, who appointed the employees that he trusted to ridiculous positions within his house and who told the employees that he trusted all his secrets and who treated his employees more as friends than as the people who worked for him. The trust that he had in Lynster was only on a professional employer-employee level.

The folder was given to him about an hour ago; Lynster claimed that all of the photographs, that he had gotten developed over the last ten days, were behind the population statistics, which were on the folder's right side. Most of what was in the folder was the population statistics on the American continents—according to Lynster, there were about ten or fifteen photographs in it. The folder also had some hand-written guesstimates of Europe's, Eurasia's, and the island nations' populations in it.

"My servant," Master Vile replied. He tried to snatch the photograph, that was being shown to him, from Ashaklar's hand; she stepped back just in time to avoid it being taken from her.

"You've known all this time that they were on this planet!" Ashaklar exclaimed. She turned then went into the bungalow's one bedroom. Master Vile watched as she dumped everything that was in the folder out onto the bed that he slept in, and that he used when he raped and then tortured Caroline Louise Roberts six days ago.

The storm had grown worse in the five minutes that he was tending his unexpected and uninvited guests; it was blowing in fast, and there was no mistaking that dangerous feeling that was in the air.

The wind was howling against the bungalow's outside and inside walls; sand was blowing all over the place; thunder was sounding off in loud booms; and the lightning was coming out from the sky at every ten to fifteen second intervals. When it started to rain, Homsi backed into the room that Ashaklar was in. He pulled a long stick, that had a curved end on it, out from the instead of his brown tuxedo jacket then held it to the side. Master Vile watched as the light gray umbrella fabric opened; when the umbrella was open, Homsi held it over Ashaklar, who was busily looking over the photographs that were spread across the bed. Master Vile took a step into the room then stopped—Homsi had taken a wand out from his tuxedo jacket. He was holding it at the ready just in case he had to use it. After the Goblin removed his wand from the inside pocket of his jacket, he and the man stared at one another. Master Vile glanced down at the heap of photographs, that Ashaklar was sifting through, after the staring session went on for three minutes—Lynster had made the backgrounds of most of the photographs appear in black and white; the people of interest, that were in them, were in color, which he liked.

Ashaklar's stance of being bent over the bed brought the memory of what he did to the so-called Secretary of the Press lady back—he had decided to do a little shaping-up session on the woman on the morning of August 22. The order was issued for Nygiti to bring the woman to the bungalow and then lock the door afterwards; Nygiti was fast in doing that. After wandering the bungalow's small kitchen for ten minutes, Mrs. Roberts came into the one bedroom, where he was waiting for her. He was naked, and already pumped for the act to come, so all he had to do was grab and then throw her to the bed after seeing her. All of what she was wearing was ripped from her body; she had screamed plenty but no conversation was held between the two of them. After her clothes were removed from her body, he had sinked his root into her... hard! He had raped her for four long hours—blood was drawn with his fangs; he dug his nails into her flesh; bruises were made all over her body—before deciding to remove himself.

Before the chance to roll off the bed could be done, she was grabbed and then tied by the wrists to the bed posts; with her being securely bound to the bed, he had stepped away from her.

Mrs. Caroline Louise Roberts was punished for a number of reasons—for not doing as he told her to do, for being disobedient, and, of course, for not finding the material that he had told her to find that had mentions of his daughter-mate in it. She had made all sorts of excuses... Had made up lies, or had just plain told him that she wouldn't do anything that he told her to do. That had pissed him off—the torturing hadn't only been done as a way to shape-up her attitude towards him; he had also tortured her to gain some information about his daughter-mate. He had done her up good after tying her to the bed; just the memory of what he did to the woman made him grow thick between the legs.

He went home on the night of August 21 for his special black bag, that contained all of his torturing devices in it; he had set that bag's contents up on the bed slowly, so the woman could see all of what was coming to her, then he went to work.

The Fingernail Pullers—a small device that pulled one's fingernails out from their fingers in a slow and very painful fashion—were used first then the Pinchers—another small device that gave off any degree of pinches, from the barely felt sort to the ones that left a noticeable mark, to a man's, or a woman's, nipples or testicles—were used. Neither device had worked so he went on to use the special-made candles that were made of different degrees of heated wax, that retained its heat even after being molded into a stick-form.

The red candle, that's melted wax had a mild temperature to it, was used first then the blue candle, that's wax was just plain hot, was used. While a lot of screaming happened, no clues on where his daughter-mate was were dropped. With no clues being dropped, he went on to use the black candle, that's wax was so hot it made the skin bruise on impact; the purple candle, that's wax was so hot, it made skin turn black, was used next, after no cooperation happened. When Mrs. Roberts continued to not spill what she knew of his daughter, he used the white candle, which was hot enough to burn through flesh, on her.

Surprisingly, after using the candles on her, Mrs. Roberts had still insisted on being uncooperative; the Fingernail Pullers were used on her toenails afterwards—the woman had no nails on her hands or feet now because of that device. He had burned her with hot coals; he had thrown salt water on her; he had thrown her into the hole that Nygiti had dug and then filled with ice; then he had used another device on her—while similar to the Fingernail Pullers, this one was different in structure and purpose. It pulled one's hair out; slowly and painfully, of course.

After one and a half day's worth of torture, she finally whispered what he wanted to know. She had told him about the existence of a few newspaper articles that had mentions of his daughter in them. After hearing what she told him, he released her from the bed then issued the order for Nygiti to dump her at a hospital. He went to find what she spoke of afterwards.

He had laughed himself hoarse two days ago, when she returned to the White House—along with walking in a very stiff and sore way, she had also been bald, nail-less, and her body had still been full of second and third degree burns. There had still been a lot of puncture marks and cuts and bruises on her. He had found humor in that. He still did.

"They all look healthy," Ashaklar said. Master Vile blinked his eyes then shook his head; he had experienced a sort of black-out while remembering all of what he did to Mrs. Roberts. "Where were these taken? Where were they seen?"

"I have no idea, I haven't had a chance to look at any of them." Master Vile replied.

"Where was your servant when he took these photographs?" Ashaklar asked. "When did he take these?"

Normally, they were aroused by Bile's skull-themed alarm clock each morning; on the morning of August 29, at exactly 7:31, and right when Master Vile was squaring off with his two, unexpected and uninvited guests, they were aroused by something else that they perceived as someone trying to get into the house. Once the bong-bang was heard, they shot up in bed—Bile was fast in tearing his bedroom door open and in rushing downstairs; along with wearing his usual, which was a pair of red and white striped boxer shorts, and a baggy white t-shirt, he had an aluminum baseball bat in his hand. Hazaar and Lazeer ripped the doors to their rooms open after their brother shot down the hall then went down the stairs. Hazaar, who was wearing a pair of dark gray sweat pants, and Lazaar, who was wearing a pair of brown shorts, stood for a short second and a half in their rooms before coming out into the hallway; their mother, who was wearing her usual purple cotton nightgown, left her room quickly—she told her still second-floor bound boys to remain where they were then she went downstairs. Guyunis, who, along with shooting up from his bed, had also come close to falling from it, had already had his bedroom door open—he stood with half of his dark body being in his room for the longest of time before stepping out into the hallway. Unlike his brothers, he went to bed while still wearing the pair of light brown cargo shorts that he wore during the morning, afternoon, and early and mid-evening hours of yesterday. Like Hazaar's rattail, Guyunis's hair was a tangled mess.

After what seemed like forever, Angel and Bile came up the stairs; the baseball bat, that Bile had on him when he went downstairs, was now being carried in a non-serious way.

"Could that of been some sort of warning?" Hazaar asked nervously. Everyone turned to look at him. "I mean, like... could it of been the sound of an oncoming earthquake or something?"

"Nothing going on downstairs; other than us, there's no one in the house. The doors and windows are fine." Bile said.

"Nothing fell downstairs to make that sound." Angel said. "Everything is like we left it before we went to bed."

"Do the lights and everything work?" Lazeer asked. Everyone ducked into their rooms to try the light switches. All of the upstairs rooms' domed lights were turned on at almost the same time; Lazeer heard rooms' tv's being turned on as well. "A quake would make any and all tv and phone signals go out, right mom?"

"It would disrupt signals for tv's and phones, yes." Angel replied. She went into her bedroom; when she came out, she had her cellular in her hand. "Lazeer, do me a favor and check on Lhaklar. Is he awake? Check to see if he's alright."

As their mother flipped the top of her light gray cellular phone up and then started to dial their home phone number, Lazeer went to the door, that went to the bedroom, that was beside his own. He knocked on the door twice then, when his older brother didn't answer or say anything, he grabbed and then twisted the door knob. The door, when he pushed it, would only open halfway for some reason; when he stepped into the room, his foot caught against some sort of fabric. Without putting much thought into it, Lazeer slapped the light switch, that was beside the door; he blinked his circular, silvery eyes twice before looking down to see what it was that his foot had touched.

Lhaklar wasn't one of them clean freaks by any means—he did leave piles of clothes on the floor and he did tend to leave games and books and magazines strewn about in the open; when Lazeer saw the pile of clothing, that was a foot and a half away from the door, he figured that it was what his brother had worn the day before. He could see it now; he ran the scenario of what his brother did every night before climbing into bed in his mind quickly. Lhaklar had come into his room, had closed the door, then had undressed himself from his day clothes. He'd put his night clothes on then he'd simply toss the clothes that he had worn that day either at the foot of his bed or to some other place in the room—if the latter action was done, they'd either land in front of his brother's closet door or by the bedroom door. This scenario seemed right for him with that pile of clothes that was by the door but, after he took a closer look, he saw that the pile of clothes had arms and legs. Tentatively, Lazeer stuck his foot out. He nudged the thing that was close to the door then he received a shock when a mint-green hand slapped his foot away.

"Oh my gosh, someone pinch me good and hard! Lhaklar walked head-first into his bedroom door!" Lazeer broke into a fit of laughter.

Bile, Hazaar, and Guyunis poked their heads into the room that their youngest brother was in; Lazeer had since stepped out of the way—they could see what he had seen. All three of them broke out in a rash of laughter at once—Lhaklar was, indeed, on the floor and it did look like he had walked into the door. He was on his knees; his arms were at angles; he was shaking his head; and he was moaning, but he wasn't making any attempt in getting up. Angel pushed by Bile, Hazaar, and Guyunis; she went straight over to Lhaklar, to see if he was alright. The first thing that she saw was that he looked quite tired—like he hadn't slept any during the night; he had dark green rings around his pistachio-colored eyes. While her other sons were picking at Lhaklar for his walking into his bedroom door, Angel was taking note of the fact that her secondborn son was wearing exactly that of what he had worn the day before—a cream and brown striped, long sleeve, button down shirt; a pair of brown pants, that had a brown belt around the waist; and a pair of brown socks and brown shoes. The next thing that Angel noticed was the fact that her son's bed didn't look to of been slept in; the window, that was in his room, was also half-open.

"Except for Lhaklar, I want everyone out of this room." Angel said. She turned, then looked at her sons when they continued to linger in the room. "You four hear me? Go on—go get dressed. Get ready for the day. Bile, you and Guyunis are on breakfast duty. Hazaar, do not start any fights with your brothers. That goes double for you, Lazeer."

They did as they were told; when her sons were out of the room, she closed the door then turned to look at her secondborn son, who had since dropped to his right side. Lhaklar was now trying to get on his feet. Walking into a closed door was something that everyone had done sometime in their lifetime; it typically happened more than a handful of times and, a majority of the time, it left no marks. A person would be stunned, might find him or herself on the floor in shock, or they might even just stand in place, shaking their heads. If one remained standing after walking into a door, they'd just grab the door knob, open the door, then leave the room that they were in.

Injuries were typically very mild for ones who walked into doors—one might find a bruise or two on their face or on one of their arms or legs. She wasn't but so concerned over Lhaklar's act of walking into his closed bedroom door; other than getting a few bruises to his face, or to one or more of his extremities, and having to deal with the simple, normal embarrassment of what just happened to him, he was fine. She was more concerned with how tired he looked, and with the window being half-open, and with the room's bed being unused. Lhaklar knew better than to leave the house after curfew, and he knew the consequences of breaking curfew. The same went for what happened to one after they left the house after everyone went to bed for the night.

As Angel went towards the room's bed, she couldn't help but be relieved that the month of August was nearly over. Her patience and understanding was tested again and again over the last ten days by her sons; she had hardly had time to rest after coming home from work before something happened in the house that required her immediate attention. Over the last ten days, she had found herself as having to make time to sit and have a cool-down session—it was either that or snap at one or more of her sons for something they did while she was at work.

Her life became a bit of a mental roller coaster after August 18 came and went—after getting the car registered, then getting the plates made and then put on it, Bile refused to drive or go anywhere near it for two days. No explanation was given on why; he had remained very tight-lipped on why he didn't want to be involved with the car. Hazaar had taken to the liberty of driving the car on the days that Bile was distancing himself from it—on the second day of his driving adventures, he returned home with two flats. Ca-ching! Tires don't come cheap; she had to purchase two new tires for the car, which had cost her €300. Each. The day after Hazaar flattened the two tires, he and Lazeer got into a fight and broke both of the windows that were in the living room—the event of their fighting over the remote, and the remote flying from Lazeer's hand, was the cause for one of the windows to be broken while the event of Lazeer ducking to avoid Hazaar's fist was the cause for the other one to break. No money lost on that one—she repaired the windows with her Elemental Water power. After the windows were repaired, Hazaar and Lazeer were sent up to their rooms for the rest of the day.

Not much happened on the following day; even though the 22nd of August was a calm and peaceful one for her, she really should of been mindful of her boys and their activities—they had spent most of that day either in Bile's room or down in the basement. She came home on the 23rd of August to find all of her boys leaving the basement in a hurry; the idea of that being odd had come and then gone very quickly, as had the surprise that she had gained over seeing that Guyunis was in the basement with them. Up to that day, Guyunis either preferred to stay out of the basement or be fast whenever he was required to go down to it; he, during the all-too-secretive meetings that his brothers were doing in that room, either remained upstairs, in his bedroom, or in the kitchen. She should of known that they were up to something. If their activities were known to her, she wouldn't of been but so surprised with what she had found in the basement. A few hours after returning from work, she went down to the basement to get the laundry done—her mouth had about dropped to the floor when she saw the large hole that was put in the side of the room. While she was away from the house, her sons were busy at-work on a little project of theirs that she called a "Son Cave".

The hole, that was in the side of the basement, had a tunnel coming from it that went to an underground room that was about fifteen feet from the house. The cement, that Bile had managed to steal from the dump, was used to keep the dirt from falling into the room and to sturdy the tunnel and the underground room's ceiling and sides. Though rather miffed at their doing that, she had allowed them to keep their "Son Cave"—as long as they didn't do anything that would get her or them into trouble, or that'd cause the house to come crashing down, that was.

Not much happened on the 24th and 25th; her sons were busy with the furnishing of their "Son Cave" on them days. An old, brown leather couch—something from their first trip to the dump, which was cleaned thoroughly and then sprayed with Lysol before being carried down to their secret room—was the first thing that was put in the room. A matching brown leather chair, a coffee table, and a three-shelf bookcase were moved into the room next then Bile and Guyunis made some torches—these were put on the walls of the tunnel and room. After the torches were made, then placed where her boys wanted them to be, the room was declared as being "nearly complete".

After the room was declared as being "nearly complete", she had figured that they'd be happy and content, and not create anymore trouble or headaches; sadly, that didn't happen. Hazaar had gotten into a fight with Guyunis on the 26th—at the time, Hazaar was going through the motions of his Temperamental phase while Guyunis was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. From what she had gathered, Hazaar had snapped at Guyunis for taking something from his room and Guyunis had responded by being truthful and then in his own defense, which had pissed Hazaar off. Upon coming home from work, she found Hazaar in the living room, trying in vain to patch the hole, that he made in the wall that was between the living room and dining room, up. It was pretty apparent that their verbal fight had turned into being a physical one.

The fight had caused Hazaar to have some bruises to his face, arms, and chest; Guyunis had some bruises on his face and shoulders—while Guyunis's injuries were already treated, the ones that her thirdborn son had on him weren't. Hazaar was more concerned with the hole that he created than his physical injuries. After seeing the sight of what she did on that day, then hearing her boys out on what happened between them, she grounded Hazaar for a week; plans were made on her part to fix the hole that was in the wall—unfortunately, before they could be implemented, her "hand-crafty" sons did something to that wall. The day following the fight, upon coming home from another exhaustive day at work, she found that the little, five and a quarter inch wide hole was replaced by a much bigger hole—while she was at work, her sons made a window between the living room and dining room. While she wasn't thrilled with having a window between them two rooms, she had said that it could remain in the house.

She came close to exploding the following day; when Guyunis returned home in a depressed funk. Hazaar and Lazeer were with him, but she wasn't able to get anything from them on why their brother was so depressed. In all, it took her three hours before the cause of her son's depression was discovered—apparently, a group of teenagers, of mixed gender, had bullied them sometime after they appeared in Elchesheim-Illingen. Hazaar had nearly gotten into a fight with one of the male teenagers, who made fun of his hair and physical appearance; even though the same kid had picked on him, Lazeer had managed to keep Hazaar under control. Guyunis was bullied by three girls, one being Kai Berg, who lived on their street. The three girls had shoved him around; had slapped their hands on his backside and arms; had gotten him all pissed off; then the cincher had happened—Miss. Kai Berg had grabbed and then yanked Guyunis's hoodie right off his head. The bullying had escalated afterwards; after seeing his facial features, they said a bunch of things that hurt his feelings.

After learning what she did, she did the appropriate thing in approaching the parents of the kids who bullied her sons. Maybe one or two of the kids were reprimanded; most of the people that she spoke to had looked to be on their kids' side. She could do nothing else on that matter, sadly. Something else happened yesterday as well, but she couldn't quite remember what it was yet; the morning was too young... She had yet to gain her senses and wake up fully.

"You've started the day off very well, Lhaklar. You know the rules that I put down for you and your brothers—you know that none of you are allowed to go out on the town after curfew and you also know that none of you are allowed to leave the house after everyone's gone to bed for the night." Angel said. Lhaklar had since gotten up from the floor. He was now looking at her. "I'm very surprised with you, Young Man. You know better, you're the most mature of your brothers and yet here we are. I make the rules of this house for a reason—it's dangerous to be out at night and you know it! You've seen the programs; you've seen the stories that are run on the news each morning on how someone is either kidnapped or killed at night, and you've also read the same stories in the papers—why the hell would you go and disobey one of the big rules that I put down for you and your brothers when you know what happens at night?"

That was the typical talk from a very tired mother who was just waiting for the first word from her disobedient child before erupting and he knew it. He had pretty much known that he was going to be caught that morning in coming home from work; he had put too much oomph into punching his arms down to make the ground rise up so he'd be propelled to his bedroom window—which he had left unlocked. He had also been too unbalanced when he was climbing into his bedroom window... not to mention, he was also pretty damn tired as well. He had come sailing into his room then he had lost control of his legs—he had pretty much ran at the door at full speed; while an attempt was made to stop his forward motion, there had just been no stopping the door collision. Oh, he was wise in spell-sending his work bag to the underground room, that he and his brother's had built a few days ago, but he wasn't very wise in getting back into the house without making much noise.

From the moment he was hired to work at Janina Duerr's strip club, he had worried about this happening. He had wanted to work from 8:00 a.m. to 3:30 p.m.—basically, he wanted to clock-out thirty minutes after his mother returned home from her job—but Miss. Duerr has said that she couldn't have him work the day shift. His blood had run cold when she said she'd only hire him if he worked the night shift, from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. Instead of being insistent on working the day shift, he had thought it over some before agreeing to do them hours. After being hired to work the club, he formulated a plan—along with being home before Bile's alarm went off, he could undress himself and then jump into bed. The routine of putting up a false-sleeping act would happen next. The plan had just come into being when Miss. Duerr's words of _'great, I'll see you every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday'_ were heard—though disclosing an interest in wanting to work the club on just Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, she had insisted on him being at the club on those days. He was too shocked to say no. His first day of dancing at the Die Heiß und Hastig was on Friday, the 21st of August—a good €280 was brought home on that night while, on the following night, he brought home €350. Naturally, his brothers knew of his working at the club—they didn't know that he was working the night shift, though. Seeing his mother seated on his bed, looking at him, and expecting him to speak of what he was doing while being out of the house, made him wish that he had just walked out of Miss. Duerr's office after hearing that she'd only hire him if he agreed to do the night shift.

"Untwist your tongue, Lhaklar. Am I to ground you for a month or for a whole year for whatever you had to do after everyone went to bed or..."

She went on; rolling out the could-be punishments for his being out after everyone went to bed. He stuffed his hand into his left pants pocket as he listened to her—with his bringing home nearly a thousand euros after working the club for five days, he had gotten the idea of getting his mother something good that would get her off his back if she ever found that he left the house after everyone went to bed. While he liked to show his love by buying his mother gifts, and while he liked to find, bring home, and then give her the things that he found at the local dump that he thought she'd like, the item that was in his pocket was more of an insurance type of gift—something that'd mellow her over after she discovered that he was out after everyone went to bed.

There was a pro and a con to this gift that he had for her; his mother might well gush over it and then forgive him for his going out after light's out and she might also just look it and then say that it was no excuse for his to be going out at night—it had been and it still was a risk that he was willing to take. He was also using the thing that he had gotten for his mother as a sort of alibi—he was hoping that it would get his mother to think that, instead of his being out of the house after light's out, doing drugs or working the night shift at Die Heiß und Hastig, he had either gone out to see a girl or buy her the gift. He was just being asked if he wanted an extra six months tacked onto his punishment when he pulled the black, velvet covered box out from his pants pocket.

"You've got a mouth, Young Man. What were you doing out after bedtime? Where did you go and— "

"I'm sorry I disobeyed you, mom. I know what I did was wrong, and I accept any punishment you put on me." Lhaklar said. He cleared his throat before stepping forward, towards his mother. He held the black, velvet-covered box out to her; she merely looked down at it. "I saw this before I came home yesterday—I thought you'd like it. There were a lot of people looking at it before I came home—I was afraid that someone would snag it before I could so... you know, I left the house to get it for you."

She was just collecting her voice to shout at him—her chest heaved in; her lungs filled with the air that she would use when she started using an authoritative and very angry voice at her disobedient son; the muscles that were in her jaw and neck grew tense—when he stopped in front of her. Lhaklar, who knew the rules of the house, and who had just been caught breaking one of the major rules that she put down for him and his brothers to follow, lowered the small box that was in his hand to her eye level. He opened it slowly; the anger that she felt towards him evaporated almost at once. She struggled to get that anger back—she knew that, if she didn't retain it, her son would think that it was perfectly fine to leave the house after curfew and after everyone went to bed but... she was instantly grabbed by the thing that was in the box.

Right from the start, she knew that the box contained some sort of jewelry—the outside of the box was covered in a black velvet material while the box's interior was lined with a shiny, green-colored material. There was a tab sticking up in the center of the box; hanging loosely on that tab was a ring, that had a sterling silver band, that had leaf designs on it. The ring that was in the box had a big, purple rock in its center—it looked like a genuine charoite and freshwater white pearl to her. Angel looked at the ring, which looked like one of them expensive cocktail rings, then stood up. Her son took a step back then stood his ground; he leaned over sideways then looked at her with one of the most depressing and pleading set of eyes that she had ever seen.

"Where'd you get that?" she asked.

"Perlen und Mehr," Lhaklar replied. He swallowed hard then added, "in Au am Rhein."

"You left the house in the dead of night to go to the town of Au am Rhein, which is only five minutes away from here?" Angel gave her son one of them inquiring looks. "You think I'm stupid, young man? It doesn't take all night to—"

"No—I don't think you're stupid, mom. I left home half an hour ago—I couldn't sleep; it was so heavy on my mind! Before I left, I made my bed; I left my window half open so I could get back in the house without having to, you know... use the front or back doors. "Lhaklar said. When his mother lowered one of her eyebrows, he looked down at his feet. "I didn't want anyone to worry or to notice that I was gone. I didn't mean to wake everyone up, or scare anybody. I tried to be quiet."

"How much did you spend on that," Angel gestured at the ring, that was still in the box, that was still in Lhaklar's hand.

"A hundred and twenty-five euros—the owner had it on sale. Half-off." Lhaklar replied.

"You just had to go gift shopping in the middle of the night and risk getting in trouble and punished to get that thing?"

"Yes," Lhaklar muttered.

"You're grounded for four days," Angel said. She took the black, velvet-covered box from Lhaklar's hand as she walked by him. "No leaving the house—you'll be getting plenty to do while house-bound." Angel left the room. She had just started to close the door when something suddenly came to her; she turned then looked at her son, who had his back turned to her. "Since everyone's already up, don't worry about getting back into bed. You put some fresh clothes on, then freshen up in the bathroom, before coming down for breakfast."

"Yes, mom." Lhaklar said. He let the breath that he was holding in out after the door to his room was closed—a four day grounding was far better than being grounded for a month or a year, he thought.


	13. Chapter 13

He had always been intrigued by how fast gossip—whether of the local, galactic, or universal type—traveled. Someone on a planet was brutally murdered and the murderer was still at large; a public or government official was found to be embezzling money from the government; someone in an influential or prominent family just kicked the bucket, or had just inherited millions or billions after mommy or daddy succumbed to some disease or was killed in a freak accident; some long-awaited heir to an influential or prominent family was born on such-and-such day; some conqueror that went off to conquer some realm was killed while in-campaign, or had completed his or her campaign; a natural disaster or plague or war was happening; some planet in the Universe just imploded for some unknown reason and all of its inhabitants are missing and presumed deceased... All of that and more was the type of gossip that was routinely, and quite quickly, spread around. Some of it was spoken by word of mouth while others were spread by tabloid or news broadcast—the smaller gossips stayed around for a few days while the bigger or more major gossips lingered for weeks or months... some might even stick around for years! His daughter and her sons disappearing sixteen hundred ago was one of them major gossips; it remained in the headlines, and on the news broadcasts, for sixteen hundred years... It was still in the headlines and news broadcasts to that day!

He wasn't but so surprised that his family was breathing down his neck; that gossip thing had happened after Ashaklar Ubalki and Homsi Modulavich left his planet. The two had exposed their findings far and wide; everyone, from their families to his, knew that he knew where Angel and her sons were. All of what he knew, and all of what was found in that folder, was spilled; Ashaklar and Homsi had taken all of what Lynster had busted his ass to acquire with them. He hadn't been left with a crumb of what was in that folder. After their speedy exit, a feeling had fallen over him—he had a feeling that they'd speak and spill all of what they had discovered. He had readied himself for the torture and word-stabbing that would happen afterwards.

Due to the storm, that was slamming itself into the stretch of beach, that his old temporary residence was on, he had to drop that readiness to save what little of his that was in the bungalow.

After they left the bungalow, a swift collection of his belongings—his clothes; the gray stone box, that contained the newspaper articles that he had collected over the last six and a half months; and the few other things that were in the building—had happened. After collecting his things, he went to find some other place to reside in. As expected, the bungalow collapsed right after he vacated it.

The storm that took his temporary residence down was given the name of Arabella some weeks ago; it was categorized as a type-three weather system that the humans called a Hurricane. According to the local newspapers and the news reports that were airing on the tube, the storm consisted of one hundred and fifteen mile per hour winds and lots of rain; nearly every residence that was near or on the beaches of southern Florida were damaged or destroyed. There were no casualties or missing civilians though... at the moment, that was.

Lhaklar's shift had just about come to a close when the storm's effects started being felt; it had started getting really bad when he ran into his closed bedroom door. By the time Lhaklar was hearing his mother's torrent of words about his being discovered as being out of the house after curfew, he had moved into a residence that was located in northern Florida. Like with the bungalow, the residence had a For Sale sign in its yard—after ripping it up, he went in then made himself at home. Lynster, Galong, Nygiti, Glog, and Rourke arrived at the new, temporary residence half an hour later; after Lynster heard what happened, he went to his home on Gamma Vile—the copies, that he made of everything that was in the folder, were retrieved and then brought back to Earth. Upon his return to the residence, he found that he was seated in a black recliner—along with having his feet up, he was rather comfortable.

With the residence being completely empty of furnishing, he gave the order for Galong, Rourke, and Nygiti to go to his palace on Gamma Vile for a portable stove, a small refrigerator, a recliner, a kitchen table and chair, and a blow-up mattress. Rourke was the one who went out of his way to retrieve some pillows and bedding—after making the bed, he went to stand by one of the corners that were in the residence's living room. Glog, though not receiving any orders, went to Gamma Vile to grab some pots and pans, some cooking utensils, and some food that he thought he'd like to eat.

It was just his luck that, when he held the first of the population statistic-copies, that were in the folder that Ashaklar took with her when she and Homsi left the bungalow, up for viewing, his cellular went off. After taking the all-black phone from his robe, then checking the little window for the number that was calling, he found that it was his father who was calling him. The man had not been very happy with him; along with calling him a disrespectful rat, he said that he was a heartless idiot who shouldn't of achieved what he had in his life. His mother was in the background; he had heard her quite clearly—she was speaking in Vilian about how careless he was. He had also heard her saying that she was ashamed of him.

He had let them talk. He hadn't responded to any of their words. After placing the phone on the recliner's arm, he held the first population statistic up. When his father ended his call, he pressed the phone's END button; his phone was silent for all of two minutes before being rung again.

In all, he had heard from nearly everyone before deciding to disconnect the battery pack from the back of his phone; his final caller was his grandfather's uncle—he came close to laughing when he started in on him. All but one in his family was let in on the know of what was going on—Ashaklar and Homsi were told by an official, that was acting as a sort of secretary for TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, that Tazir was conducting very important business on one of his conquered planets and that he couldn't be disturbed. Even though Ashaklar told the official that it was very important that she speak with her son the official still refused to allow her call to be pushed through—thanks to this, he was spared from getting a call from his uncle.

"When was this taken?" Master Vile asked Lynster. After looking over the population statistics, he started in on the photographs. The photograph, that he had in his hand, was a mostly black and white one; the only thing that wasn't black and white was Lhaklar, who was kept in color.

"The eighteenth, sir." Lynster replied.

"Where?"

"A city in Germany called Karlsruhe; early morning."

Master Vile nodded his head. He placed the photograph on the arm of the recliner then he looked at the next one.

There was a very wildly overgrown forest in the photograph that he was now looking at. He saw lots of trees and bushes—even though the bushes weren't in-color, he could see that they had some wicked thorns on them. Most of their branches had become twisted around one another at some point over the years; some of them had a sort of fluff or fuzz on them, which he took as being animal fur. A river was also depicted in the photograph; it was "absorbed" into the forest at the photograph's mid-point. Except for the kid, who was to the photograph's far right side, the photograph was in hues of charcoal gray, black, and white. He trained his eyes on the kid almost at once.

The photograph's depicted kid was his daughter's thirdborn son—his name was Hazaar; unlike his brothers, who were all conceived by natural means, he was conceived via artificial insemination. He remembered it well—his daughter, after asking him to lunch one day, had seduced him into taking the curse, that he put on her after she gave birth to Lhaklar, off then she went to the Sperm Ward—a highly-guarded and very important building on his birth-planet—to get a few vials of his uncle's preserved sperm. She went back to his uncle's place afterwards; her attempt in getting pregnant went through with flying colors—it had taken just one vial of his uncle's wigglers to get her pregnant.

The kid was said to be a girl; his parents had referred to him as a she all the while he was in the womb. He remembered doing plenty of mouthing-off to his uncle on that little area and he also remembered getting popped in the jaw more than twice by the man afterwards. Upon the kid's birth, he had found himself as not being a very happy camper—instead of being born a girl, the kid was born as a boy. All of what he had said was shot right back at him; the kid had made him look like a fool and that had pissed him off. The ill-bred kid, as he called him and Lhaklar and Lazeer, was swinging himself over a deadfall of trees; Lynster had made that portion of the photograph be in actual color.

"And when was this one taken?" Master Vile asked.

"The twenty-second, sir." Lynster replied.

"Where?"

"Far edge of Elchesheim-Illingen; around noon. Same country—Germany."

It took him a little while to figure out that the next photograph was taken in broad daylight, with no obstructions to cause the depicted image to appear in just plain black and white. The photograph was in shades of gray and white; the image was dominated by buildings so he automatically knew that Lynster was somewhere outside of one of the shields that was around one of the towns that were in Europe. He saw two food stands, a lemonade stand, a jewelry store, and a building that looked like either a cinema or a music studio of some sort. There were humans walking along the street; the photograph's depicted car's looked of that planet's current era; the street, that was in the photograph, looked very clean, which he found rather odd.

Like the photograph that he had just viewed, the person of interest was both in actual color and on the far right side. The kid, who was both his daughter's youngest son and who was conceived a hundred years after Hazaar was born, was simply walking down the sidewalk. The kid, who, he did believe, was born prematurely at six and a half months gestation, was given the name of Lazeer right after being born. He looked very healthy, which pissed him off. This was the kid that his daughter was fussing and fretting over... If not for this kid's birth, his daughter would of remained on Moas. The photograph's depicted humans looked to of accepted the kid. None of them were acting hostile or upset over his being around them, which made his anger grow worse.

"When and where?" Master Vile said. He turned the photograph over, so Lynster could see which of the photographs he was asking about.

"The twenty-fifth, sir." Lynster replied. "In Durmersheim, Germany."

His blood began to boil when he looked at the next photograph. His eyes grew hot in their sockets; he breathed a little faster, and louder, as his line of sight settled on the kid that was in the center of the photograph. It looked like Lynster was hiding somewhere near a dump—there were piles of junk scattered about; puddles of liquid lay between the piles of junk; two bulldozers and a crane were in the photograph's far back. Except for the kids, all of what was in the photograph was in black and white. While he wasn't able to identify what made up the dark gray puddles of liquid, he had a feeling that they were either plain water or a chemical of some sort. There were several cans and other trash lying here and there on the ground, scattered between the liquid puddles and the piles of junk.

One of the photograph's depicted kids was none other than his own young son; Bile looked very healthy, and he looked much the same as he had seven months ago. He had a companion with him—the third son that his daughter had given birth to was to the far left of the photograph; while his image in the photograph was made-out in color, his coloration was less vivid than Bile's.

"When and where?"

"The twenty-fourth, sir." Lynster replied, in a sort of robotic way. "Bietigheim, Germany."

"Did you see all them all ten days that you were in Europe?" Master Vile asked.

"No sir. Only on four of the ten days." Lynster replied, he then added, "Five if you want to count the other kid that I saw with that Lhaklar-kid on the eighteenth and with Bile and that Hazaar-kid on the twenty-fifth."

The tendons of his neck creaked and cracked loudly as he jerked his head up and then towards Lynster, who was standing to his left. Had his employee just said what he thought he did? That he saw another kid—a fifth kid—with his daughter's four known sons? The two articles, that Caroline Louise Roberts had told him about at the conclusion of his torturing her, had mentioned something about his daughter-mate having a fifth child with her; after finding and then reading them two articles, he had figured that the humans who had written them had messed up... Had added the number five to his daughter's number of offspring. Could the articles be right about the number of offspring that his daughter had or could someone of just gotten overly excited over the fact that his daughter was back on the planet?

His daughter was missing for all of sixteen hundred years; could she of acquired a partner and then given birth to one or more offspring during that time? The thought of his daughter conducting an affair prior to her discovery and then continuing said affair after being returned to Moas had popped into his head after he took up residency in his uncle's mansion—he had asked her of her activities while being on Earth while he was living in his uncle's mansion and she had responded by saying that she had done nothing with anyone all during her time on the planet. Up to the reading of them two articles, that the Secretary of the Press told him about, he had accepted what she had told him—after reading them articles, that mentioned that she had five children instead of four, he had started to wonder if she had told him the truth.

Angel, he was told, had taken more than a few trips to Earth during the two months that she was living under his uncle's roof. From what he was told, the trips seemed pretty innocent—upon each return, she had something for her sons and for Eshal, his uncle's oldest child from his first marriage. Once them two articles were found and then read, the thought of her actually taking them trips to meet her lover had surfaced. He could see it now; she'd teleport to Earth, then meet up with her lover in some secret or agreed upon location for a night of sex, then, after their adulterous deed was done, she'd attempt to mask her nightly activities by coming home with some stuff that she had either collected or purchased for the kids. The masking up of an affair was typically handled that way—if any questions were asked on the whereabouts of a spouse, or what a spouse was doing in the time they were away from home, an alibi would be needed. He could see her using the "oh, I'm going into town for a while to pick some things up for the kids" as a way to mask up some affair that she was having.

Women were strange creatures; he knew from experience that they acted like a light switch. Happy one minute, sad the next, angry the next, content and happy the next, and so forth. One day, they're happy with their lives—with their marriages, spouses, children, jobs, and so forth—and the next, they're all depressed and saying things about divorce and about how they wished they'd never of met the guy that they married or that they had never had this kid or that kid with the guy that they had married and so forth. Women who were generally unhappy with their lives did tend to take on lovers—men or women who gave them a sense of happiness in their unhappy lives. Sometimes, the spouse didn't know about the affair and, sometimes, a spouse did know, but didn't say anything on it for fear of losing his/her partner and/or kids, and, sometimes, a spouse got real angry

Of his three marriages, he had only had one spouse cheat on him. Ursaline Flaxiwohm was a right lovely woman; along with being quite fond of her, he had shown her more than enough love. He had thought that their marriage was doing well then, one day, he came home to find her and one of his planetary enemies, a man named Konyx Hapipii, lying in bed together. Finding out by word of mouth about your wife having an affair was bad enough... Walking into your house, and then finding your wife actually screwing her lover in the marital bed, was worse. After chasing Konyx Hapipii from his palace, he went after his wife; a big fight had happened between the two of them before she took her wedding band from her finger. Their token of love—the ring that he bought, proposed with, then used to marry her with—was thrown at him afterwards; Ursaline had left him without saying a word more. He and she had gotten an immediate divorce afterwards but the laughs had continued because, apparently, she was conducting her affair for some time. She and Mr. Konyx Hapipii had a five hundred and seventy-six year old daughter—he and Ursaline were married for all of five thousand and twenty-one years... that child was conceived and then born during their marriage. Another laugh happened afterwards—the ink was only a month dry on the divorce papers when his ex-wife conceived for Konyx Hapipii again. She gave birth to a son nine months later.

While he knew that Angel conducted an adulterous affair with a gray-haired man named Atlas of Sclera at one time in the past, he had forgiven her about it—she didn't know what a Family Mate was at the time that he claimed her as his and she had also been scared and the guy had actually forced her to be in his harem; he really couldn't count that affair as a full affair and he couldn't really count his uncle as one of his daughter's adulterous lovers because, technically, he was her dominant mate and her Universally Chosen Husband. If he discovered that she was having an affair during her back and forth trips from Earth to Moas, not only would he be hurt but he'd be mad and he knew that would come double as his uncle would probably experience the same emotions as well.

"And he'd have a right to express them emotions, I suppose."

The photograph that he just viewed was placed, image-down, on the recliner's arm; the muscles, that were in his jaw, started working after he looked at the next one in the pile. At first, he wasn't sure what he was seeing—the photograph was of the same area that Lhaklar was seen in ten days ago and, in fact, Lhaklar was in the photograph. The oldest of his uncle's sons was standing before a building; he was interacting with a big human—while he wasn't able to see what it was, the kid was giving the human something. The item must be of mutual interest because the human was interested in it.

The brat was under a round, marquee awning that looked to be over a carpet; there were a few words on the windows of the building—due to his employee being too far away at the time of the photograph's taking, he wasn't able to read what they were. After seeing the scenery, and the older of his uncle's sons, he pulled the photograph in closer—there was a bigger, or closer, being in the photograph that was either missed in the photograph's de-coloration or he was the kid, or guy, since he didn't much look like a kid to him, that Lynster had spoken about.

The kid, or guy or whatever the hell it was, nearly blended into the photograph. He had nearly missed him because his depicted image was nearly all black. The flesh on down to the pants of the one that he was now looking at was black; the kid, or guy or whatever, was wearing a pair of heavy boots on his feet and he also had a series of chains on himself that were just barely able to be seen in the photograph. Really, the only thing that had grabbed his attention was the eyes—from his perspective, and from what the photograph was providing him with, they were the brightest of yellow color and they were of the slightly slanted sort. It looked like they had a good glow to them.

Master Vile shook his head; he didn't know what he was looking at, and he really didn't want to stare at the photograph forever, so he placed it down, on top of the one that he had previously looked at. The next photograph in the pile made him sit upright; he felt his spine stiffen and he felt his skin prickle and go cold. After feeling them two things, he grabbed his cellular phone from the recliner's arm; after putting the battery pack back on the phone, he started dialing his younger brother's number.

"Hi yo, hi yo—you have reached the house of a Surfeit son. If you are female, get off the phone and come see me. If you are male, get the hell off my line and don't call my number again." Master Vile rolled his eyes—Triskull _always_ answered the phone like this.

"I can imagine all the court cases that you've had to attend because of the 'if you are female, get off the phone and come see me' line that you keep spitting out after answering your phone."

"Not a damn one—it's nothing more than a joke and the people who call me know that." Triskull replied quickly. "From the sound of the voice that's on the other end of my line, it's my older brother who's decided to ring me."

"You are correct," Master Vile said.

"Should I be honored or scared that you called me up?"

"Both," Master Vile jokingly replied.

"All of my taxes have been paid off in full, I have no big arrests on my record these past six months, and I've stayed out of trouble since birth so you have nothing on this Surfeit son."

"Sure as hell no on them taxes, Lil' Brother." Master Vile said. Since he was the ruler of the M-51 Galaxy, he could void out taxes on himself and on certain others that he liked or was close to. Triskull had been getting out of paying $50,000 worth of taxes each year for over fifty thousand years thanks to him.

"What is it that your old ass called me up for? Shouldn't you be off somewhere on Earth, doing some all-important paperwork or yelling at some disobedient civilians or something?"

"I've got some paperwork in front of me," Master Vile confided.

In order to see how things in his family were handled, and who regarded who in what manner, all one would have to do is show up for one of his family's little get-togethers. Triskull, at ninety-seven thousand, seven hundred, and fifty years of age, was still regarded as the baby of the family despite the fact that three kids were born after him. He didn't need to be told that his mother was right fussy over Triskull—while fussy over all of her children, she paid particular attention to Triskull. If Triskull wasn't feeling well, and she found out about it, she'd be quick in either saying that she needed to go to his place to help him in getting better or she'd be on the phone with him, asking him all sorts of questions like how he thought he had gotten it and if he was okay. If he needed anything, or if he needed her, she'd be quick to drop what she was doing to go to him. If Triskull got injured, and she found out about it, she'd pop on over to his place to take care of him without letting anyone know. He found it rather hilarious about how she acted towards his brother; he sometimes joke about it with Dara Dara—his younger sister. Most of the time, he found the joke being shot right back at him when he was in the company of his grandmother. Dara Dara called him a Grandma's Boy, which he probably was—he and his grandmother did have a right close relationship and his grandmother did fuss over him but her fussing wasn't in the same context as his mother's was over Triskull. His grandmother still slipped him a piece of caramel whenever they saw one another—she had started giving him a piece of caramel candy when he was a very young child and she was still doing it despite the fact that he was one hundred and two thousand, two hundred, and fifty years old.

It was the general change in his relationship that he had with his parents, and the lack of a relationship that he had with his grandfather, that one outside of the family would miss. It was already well-known that he resented his uncle because of his dominance over him over Angel but, no one really knew what his relationship was with his parents and his grandfather. At one time in his life, he was right close with his father. He had looked up to him as a sort of hero but, after he conquered their birth planet and then galaxy, that notion collapsed.

One of his ancestors had made some sort of silly agreement with the family that the members of their family, who went on to become conquerors, would leave their birth galaxy be—the agreement said that the one who went on to become a conqueror could conquer any other galaxy but the one that they were born in; a silly contract was made that revolved around this agreement some generations after this agreement was made. Along with thinking that the agreement was silly, he refused to read or sign the contract; some years after that contract was shown to him, he went on to conquer the M-51 Galaxy—starting with Gamma Vile then moving on to the other planets that were in the galaxy. A lot of shit happened during the conquest, including his meeting up against his two, older sisters and then his deciding to kill one and then imprison the other for life in his then-unfinished palace dungeon—he still got excited over how he disposed the galaxy's ruler.

After Gamma Vile was conquered, he had endured his father's wrath over his deed of "breaking with contract" and over his killing one of his sisters. After being disowned, he had come close to losing nearly everything—the accounts, that he shared with his father, were closed and the funds that were in them were absorbed into those that were in his father's name; he lost nearly all of his family; and he had come very close to losing his then-fiancée, Scordida Vener. Scordida had a bout of pre-marital fear after he conquered his birth-planet—luckily, they had talked about their problem, then had gotten married, then had started making a family. If he had lost Scordida on that fateful day, he would of probably gone insane—he had loved her so much and he still loved her. The reason why he and his grandfather had no relationship was because he hated the man—his opinion of the man was pretty basic: he was a heartless crook that had conquering and controlling everything too far up his list. He and his great-grandfather had no relationship either and that went double for his great-grandfather's uncle as well.

"My big brother slacking on the job—never would of thought you'd go and become a slacker." Triskull chuckled.

"Not really slacking, I'm calling to ask you a few questions."

"Oh, well... uh... what is that you wish to ask me?"

"Have any kids that I don't know about?" Master Vile asked. His brother was a well-known lady-lover—while Triskull was single, he did like to bring a lady home from one of the clubs or bars, or from one of the hunting or fishing events that he attended, for a night of fun from time to time.

"Hell no!" Triskull exclaimed. "Vile, you know me well. I not only use the Utasa spell but I also get the girl that I bring home to sleep with to drink one of them infertility potions with me."

"What type of potion you talking about?" Master Vile asked. "Is it the Unfruchtbar or the Nenzalo or the—"

"The Rutaba—the potion that makes both partners infertile for nearly a week and a half after consumption."

"You sure that none of your past partners have faked the drinking of th—"

"It's either they drink it in front of me or they leave my house. No offense, you're a good father, and you have good kids and all, but I'm taking no chances in being a father."

"Mmmm, okay." Master Vile said. His brother, and the older of his younger sisters, had never settled down to having kids of their own. The two claimed that they weren't ready for child raising. "When were you on Earth last?"

"November of last year," Triskull answered quickly.

"And before that?"

"What is this, Vile? The thousand-round question hour or something? Before November of last year, I haven't been on your planet in a long time. Not since that sleaze Trakeena-fiasco, that I was sadly a part of." Triskull now sounded offended, and nervous.

"Important question hour is more like it," Master Vile replied. "You and my youngest daughter ever have any fling-a-wings before or after her disappearance?"

"What?"

"Have you and my youngest daughter ever had sex?"

"Hell no! Vile, are you okay? Are you experiencing some sort of fever or something that's clouding your good senses? You damn well know me better! Angel's my niece—she's the daughter and the Family-Mate of my older brother for crying out loud!" Triskull was near to shouting now. "Sure, I think she's right lovely—beautiful even—but I have not nor will I ever sink anything of mine in her. She's your daughter, she's my niece... I'm not our uncle for crying out loud!"

"Okay okay," Master Vile said quickly. There was a long moment of silence between them then he sat forward. "Look, I need to head back to work. Thanks for answering my questions, and for being a sport over my continual questioning. I'll speak with you again soon."

"Yeah, okay. Later." Triskull said. They hung up at the same time; Master Vile quickly removed the battery pack from his cellular then sat back in his recliner.

While Master Vile resumed his prior task of looking through the photographs, that his servant compiled for him over a ten-day period, Bile and Guyunis were putting plates of pancakes and eggs in front of Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer. Hazaar had gone from being a right happy chap to being rather grumpy; once his plate was before him, he shoveled the fried egg up with his fork then dumped it on top of his pancake. He went on to eat after this was done. Lazeer, while making a face at his brother, didn't say anything to him—after getting dressed, he went from being energetic to plain ornery. Lhaklar, who was still embarrassed over his act of walking into his bedroom door, and then waking everyone up, ate his breakfast in silence. After Bile and Guyunis placed their brothers' breakfasts down before them, they took their accustomed seats at the table then started in on the breakfast that they had made for themselves; their mother entered the room right when they picked their forks up.

Lhaklar gave his mother a nervous look before turning his gaze towards his plate; before going into the kitchen, Angel gave him a pat on the back. After doing this, she went into the kitchen then, on instinct, to the microwave. She took the plate that was in the microwave out then she took it to the dining room table. After taking her seat at the table's head, she started eating.

"Who made the eggs?" she asked a few seconds later.

"Made the first three, "Bile admitted. "Guyunis made the final two."

"And the pancakes?"

"Made the first two," Bile said. "Guyunis made the others."

"Kept it simple and easy this morning on the breakfast making or did you decide to be lazy?" Angel asked.

"Ma!" Bile gasped. "I kept it simple because—"

"Nevermind," Angel said quickly. She pushed her fiery red hair back with both of her hands. "I'm sorry, Bile. I'm a bit agitated at the moment. Bit grumpy... not fully awake yet."

 _Meow_

"Not now, Lazeer." Angel said.

"I'm sorry," Lhaklar said apologetically. "I didn't mean to wake everyone up or—"

 _Meeoow_

"Lazeer," Angel gave Lazeer a stern look then stood up. She placed a comforting hand on Lhaklar's shoulder, which caused him to both calm down and go back to his breakfast. "Let's just try to get through the rest of the day without having anymore mishaps please. Let's try to have a pleasant day, okay boys?"

 _Meeeeeoooow_

"Will you shut the fuck up!" Hazaar twisted in his chair; he gave Lazeer a strong shove. Lazeer flew out of his chair; the forkful of eggs, that he was about to put in his mouth, flew across the room.

"I'm not doing anything you idiot!" Lazeer exclaimed after colliding with the dining room floor. After he spoke, he kicked his foot up. Hazaar yelled then reached his hand down; he started rubbing his ankle.

"Yes you are! You're making them stupid cat sounds!" Hazaar snapped.

"I am not!" Lazeer exclaimed. He got up from the floor then looked over at his mother. "Mom, honest, I'm not. I'm not! I'm not making the c—"

 _Meeeeeeeooooowwwww_

"Whoever's making them sounds needs to stop it and now." Angel said, agitation was very clear in her voice. "Lazeer, sit back in your chair. Hazaar, do not push your brother again."

 _Meeeooow_

"I'm going to start handing out groundings if whoever it is that is making the cat sounds doesn't end it and now." Angel said in an elevated voice. It was quiet at the table for all of ten seconds then the characteristic meow of a cat was heard again; Angel responded by slapping her hand on the table. She was starting to stand from her chair when Guyunis slid his chair back.

"Sorry mum, I'll take ca-air-re of her now." Guyunis said.

At first, Angel didn't know who the "her" was that Guyunis had said he was going to take care of. She watched as Guyunis went into the kitchen; her son, after approaching, and then opening, the refrigerator, rummaged around before closing the door and then leaving the room. Angel, after seeing the can of goat's milk, stood up then went to the level that she knew he had just gone to. Guyunis's bedroom door was wide open so she just walked in to see what he was doing—after entering the room, she came to a sudden stop.

There was her son... He was sitting on the edge of his bed; the can of goat's milk was both open and on his night table. Guyunis was making small streams of the goat's milk rise up from the can with his Elemental Water power—she watched as he did this move; the small bundle, that was on his lap, made a hiccup-like sound after the stream of milk was "absorbed" into whatever it was that was in it.

Guyunis was preparing to make another stream of the goat's milk rise up from the can when he noticed her.

"Mum?"

"G, what are you doing?"

Her question was no more asked before being answered—yesterday, after Guyunis came home being all depressed after being bullied by a group of teenagers, she had found that he was keeping a little something secret stashed in his room. Her discovery of his little secret was a shock—she didn't know about his bringing any animals home and the reason for that? He had done a Silencer spell in his room, which had made all noise made by the animal not be heard by anyone who was outside of it. With Hazaar and Lazeer refusing to let her in on what happened for Guyunis to return home so depressed, she went upstairs to ask Guyunis what happened—her action of walking into his bedroom without knocking first was the cause of her knowing that the animal was in the house.

After entering the room, she stopped and then just stared; she was so shocked that she came under the belief that her eyes were playing tricks on her—after leaving the room, then staying out of it for all of twenty seconds, she went back in then had a confirmation on the baby cat being in it. The near three-week old kitten, that was on her adopted son's lap, was kept from her for all of a week; Guyunis claimed that he found her, and her litter-mate, in a box in an alley a week and a day ago. He also claimed that the kitten's litter-mate was dead and that the kitten that he decided to take home was close to dying herself.

Even though the animal was known to be in the house, she hadn't gone to ask him about it initially—she asked about why he came home so depressed first. After learning about his being bullied by a bunch of teenagers, she asked him about the cat.

Guyunis claimed that he felt sorry for the animal after seeing her then decided to bring her home; he was hoping to hand-rear her and then keep her as a pet and he was the one who was stealing the bottles, that were in the fridge, that contained her natural milk. Up to hearing about his "thefts", she had figured that one of her boys had decided to have a full bottle of her milk—for all of a week now, she had found the fridge as lacking one of its usual-placed milk bottles. While she cringed at the idea of a baby cat getting that milk instead, and while she was rather miffed over hearing that her adopted son was wasting her milk on an animal, she had understood that Guyunis didn't know what kind of milk a baby animal needed. Naturally, since she was producing milk, and since she was evicting the milk that she woke up as having in her breasts each morning, Guyunis had figured that any old type of milk was appropriate for an infant animal. After answering her questions, Guyunis had asked if he could keep the kitten. She had a hard time in saying no.

She was mildly allergic to cats. If a cat so much as touched her, the area where it touched her would turn a red color then get slightly bumpy and itchy. While her allergy wasn't a bad one, it was rather annoying—she could be around dogs or any other fur-covered animal without feeling the effects of her allergy but, if she came in contact with a cat, she'd get a rash and then she'd start itching. After thinking things over, she had based her decision on his keeping the animal on his attachment to it—even after explaining that she had a mild allergy to cats, she wasn't able to stomach or bring herself to say that he couldn't keep her. She, after a few minutes of trying to stand firm and say no, had sighed and then said _you can keep the cat as long as you take good care of her_. She knew that some people outgrew their allergies after being in contact with the thing that caused their allergy; while she hoped that this would happen with her in this case, she didn't think that it would—in the past, whenever she was around her grandfather's, her great-grandfather's, and her great-great grandfather's cats, she always broke out in a rash.

"So, when did you get the goat's milk, son?" she asked Guyunis.

"Yesterday, before coming-k home." Guyunis replied. He then added in a nervous sort of way, "I-I don't like stealing-k, mum. I heard that goat's milk is good for kit-k-tens; I went and got some for her so I'd not be stealing-k from you or my bruders."

"Calm down, G. No need for you to act nervous around me." Angel said. She looked at the bundle that was on Guyunis's lap. The kitten was all wrapped up in a small, blue towel; she was only able to see one-half of the kitten's nose. Since the kitten's nose was black, she figured that she was black. "How's Miss. Kitty? She doing well? Healthy?"

"She is—I take good care of her, mum." Guyunis said.

"Should I start calling you Nurse Guyunis from now on?" Angel smiled warmly at Guyunis. "What'd you name her again?"

"Sabine, mum." Guyunis replied.

"Pretty name," Angel said. She then turned and started to leave the room. "I'll put your breakfast in the microwave, so it won't get cold. Don't you rush in feeding her now. Take it nice and slow so she doesn't get any stomach aches."

Bile and Lhaklar were engaged in a semi-heated conversation on how Lhaklar woke everyone up that morning when she returned to the dining room. She didn't need to be told that the wheels were turning in both Hazaar and Lazeer's heads—when she entered the room that they and their brothers were in, they turned to look at her. They kept her in their line of sight for a long time before deciding to look down at their plates. Angel took Guyunis's plate up from the table; she was placing it in the microwave when Lhaklar grabbed his plate then left the table. Angel watched as he cleaned his plate of the half-eaten pancake and eggs—which he had barely touched—then she watched as he quick-washed his plate and fork. He left the kitchen and then the dining room after his breakfastware was squared away. After taking care of Guyunis's breakfast, then watching her second oldest son leave the room, she went to and then sat in the chair that she frequented during meal-hour; she had no more picked her fork up before getting the feeling that she was being watched.

How long had her biological sons known about Guyunis having that kitten in his room? Had Guyunis kept his little secret to himself or had he told one or more of his brothers about his having her in his bedroom? Bile had seemed pretty surprised after the kitten was discovered, so had Lhaklar and Hazaar. Lazeer had acted not a bit surprised over Guyunis having the kitten—she suspected that he was either told about the kitten or was with Guyunis when the kitten was picked up.

A minor fight had broke out between Lhaklar and Guyunis about the kitten about an hour before she started making supper yesterday; Lhaklar had tried to be the authoritative person in the house by trying to tell Guyunis to put the cat out and to put the thought of keeping her out of his head. Guyunis had tried to stay calm during the fight but, in the end, it had gotten somewhat physical—Lhaklar, quite surprisingly, had shoved Guyunis clear across the living room. She had come in at just the right time to separate them after the shove was given—along with telling her secondborn son that she had given his brother permission to keep the animal, she had told him that he had no say on whether Guyunis could or could not keep anything that he brought home. Lhaklar went off to some other part in the house after she said that to him; Guyunis had stuck to her side like glue all while she was making supper. She had sort of expected for the silent, pleading stares to happen sometime after the kitten was discovered and, sure enough, during supper last night, both of her younger sons had given her several of them pleading, silent stares.

"I must be the worst mother in the Universe," Angel said as she stood up. Her biological sons all gasped as she took a small wad of cash out from her left pants pocket.

"Ma! Never!" Bile said.

"You're the greatest mom in the Universe!" Lazeer exclaimed.

"Wouldn't want anyone else but you being my momma, momma." Hazaar said.

"I do spoil you boys rotten though." Angel said. "I don't suppose my five sons would grumble over getting their September allowances two days early?"

"Why are you giving us our allowances early, ma?" Bile asked.

"You don't spoil us rotten, momma." Hazaar said. Bile and Lazeer looked at him quickly. "You're a good momma—you spoil us in a normal way."

Angel was fast in counting the money that she had in her hand; once the fifty euro notes were all out of the wad, she made her rounds in distributing them to her sons.

Bile looked at the fifty-euro note, that his mother had casually slid into his hand, in dumb disbelief while Hazaar and Lazeer simply stared at their two-day early allowances, which were placed on the table before them. Angel put the other two fifty-euro notes in her right-side pants pocket then sat down. When Guyunis walked into the dining room, he found that the room had grown eerily quiet. He retrieved his breakfast from the microwave slowly then he returned to the table. He had no more reclaimed his chair when his mother stood up; he watched as she walked around the table to him then he looked at her when she reached him. Goosebumps started forming on his arms after she slid a fifty-euro note into his hand—he found himself very confused, and slightly nervous, over being given the note. Angel went back to her chair afterwards. She started eating her breakfast, which had gone cold, in silence.

"I think ma needs to call in sick today," Bile said. "Guyunis—she's giving us our allowances early and she's saying that she's the worse ma in the Universe."

"What?" Guyunis blinked his glowing yellow, scalene triangular-shaped eyes twice then looked at his mother. "Mum, what's going-k on? You sick or something?"

"I'm not sick and I'm not calling in sick today either." Angel replied. "I've noticed the stares, and them turning wheels in my two younger sons' heads the past twelve hours—I can't give them money to go do what they want to do without giving my other boys some money as well. I'm not a parent that plays favorites."

"Momma, I'm confused. Why are you giving us our allowances early and why are you saying that you can't give me and Lazeer money to do something we want to do without giving our brothers some money too again?" Hazaar asked.

"I'm just as confused about the "wheels turning" and the "stare"-thing too." Lazeer said.

"After the kitten was discovered you two've been giving me them looks that say you want something but you're too afraid to ask it," Angel replied. Hazaar and Lazeer looked down in shame. After Guyunis's kitten was discovered, the thought of asking their mother if they could go out and get a pet had crossed their minds. They had tried to not show their interest in going out to get a pet and, from what their mother had just said, they had failed. "If you two wish to go out and get a pet—a turtle or a frog—go do it. No dogs and no more cats, though."

"Mom!" Lazeer shouted happily. Hazaar leaped up from his chair then raced over to give his mother a hug.

"You two think them looks would get by me?" Angel said. She gently pushed Hazaar away from her then she stood up from her chair... yet again... for the fourth time that morning. "Spend wisely now—don't use all of September's allowance up in one day. Your next allowance isn't scheduled to be handed out until October the first—you have a full month ahead of you."

"Okay!" Hazaar and Lazeer said together, loudly and happily.


	14. Part 2

The month of August, along with the first two weeks of the month of September, seemed to of gone by so slowly for him, which was funny because, whenever he spoke of the slowness of the past six weeks, he'd always get the response of _not really, the past six weeks have gone by pretty fast for me_ by the people that he had spoken with. He guessed that a majority of the reason for why the eighth month, and the first two weeks of the ninth month, of the year 4100, went by so slowly for him was because he was so busy on Ssaaloo, a small planet that was once apart of another planet called Ssaavoo, that was in his conquered Bula Galaxy. He also guessed that another big part of why the past six weeks had gone by so slowly for him was because he was missing his daughter, and his still-missing wife and sons, terribly.

He was expecting for that day, the 15th of September, to be another slow one. When the black digital alarm clock, that was on the night table, that was to the right of the bed, that he was sleeping on, went off, he came very close to breaking it. He just wanted to swing his fist up and then bring it down on the thing. He wanted it to be silenced forever. He wanted to smash the thing to bits and pieces then roll over and go back to sleep. He couldn't do that, though. He was a conqueror and conquerors couldn't just break the alarm clock and then go back to sleep. It didn't matter if a galactic conqueror was at home or was conducting important business on one the planets that was in one of his or her conquered and controlled galaxies; a galactic conqueror was expected to get up when that alarm went off.

He shut the clock off then sat up in the bed, that was in the one-room apartment, that he had been residing in for six weeks. He just sat in the center of the bed, with the covers all clustered by his waist, for a while. The room that he was in was dark; he tried to use the room's darkness as another excuse to not get up. He tried to think that the alarm went off early; that it was still night out. When that didn't work, he just sat there. Thinking and moping and dreading what would happen after he got out of bed.

As was his new, seven and a half month usual, he found himself thinking and wondering about his wife and kids. What were his kids doing at six a.m.? Well, for starters, Eshal would still be in bed. It'd be another two hours before she got up. His four sons would also still be in bed. What would his wife be doing at this hour in the morning? Well, she'd probably be getting up with him. There would be no fighting on who got to use the toilet, or the shower, first; she'd let him use the bathroom first then she'd go in to do her morning routine... Unless she decided to join him in the shower; he had never said no to her joining him in their bedroom's adjacent bathroom for a shower or a bath. After they showered, they'd either dress separately or, if his wife and he were in a romantic mood, they'd help each other get dressed. He'd go off to his office to check the messages that were left on the voice mail the night before, after he and his family went to bed, while she'd either go down to the kitchen to get breakfast started or, quite possibly, go upstairs to check on the kids before going down to get breakfast started.

What would the boys do after waking up? Well, obviously they'd get dressed before taking care of their bathroom needs. They'd probably go downstairs to see their mother afterwards. After getting dressed, Eshal would do her morning routine in the bathroom, that was adjacent her bedroom chamber, then she'd come down to say hello to him before going down to see and then say hello to her mother. Maybe, if Angel hadn't run off with the boys again, his sons would be doing the same routine of coming down to see and then say hello to him before going down to see and then say hello to her. They'd eat breakfast in the dining room; the usual morning talk would happen then, after breakfast came to a close, they'd all get up then disperse in separate directions. What his sons would do after finishing breakfast he didn't know.

It pained him greatly in knowing that he knew so little about his boys; when Bile and Lhaklar were children, he had known a lot about them. He knew nothing of how they lived their lives now. Now that they were mid-teenagers, he knew not a thing on how they conducted themselves or on what they did with their day-hours. That made him feel low as a parent; parents were suppose to know things about their kids... They weren't suppose to be clueless as to how their kids lived or liked to live their lives.

Bile, he thought, might go to the gym for a morning workout and Lhaklar... well, he might head upstairs for his music ring—a wrist-worn device that his oldest son had some recorded tunes on—then he'd either head down to the gym for a little while or, quite possibly, the library for a book. The oldest of his biological sons was a bookworm as a child; maybe, he still was.

What would Hazaar and Lazeer do? Would they get into a morning fuss 'n fight or would they just go off peacefully? What would his wife do after finishing breakfast? Well, besides taking the dishes to the kitchen for cleaning, she'd probably go upstairs to take care of her pet Sekhems. After doing them two things, she might decide to take out a needle and some thread to make a sweater or to stitch up a hole or a tear that was in either his or one of the kids' clothing. She might even decide to spend some time with Zanra, the family dog, that his grandfather's uncle had practically thrown at her nearly a year ago, or she might spend some time with Eshal. Angel might teach Eshal how to use a sewing machine, or how to do a cross stitch; she might give Eshal some pointers on cooking or they might just sit somewhere and talk.

Eshal and her brothers might even go outside for a while after breakfast concluded, come to think of it.

He reached his hand to his face, laid it flat across his eyes, then leaned forward. Seven and a half months. To some, that didn't seem like a very long time but, to him, it had just been one hell of a slow nightmare come true. Wake up in the early morning hours of January the 28th to take a piss then, afterwards, notice a sort of empty-feeling that he had nearly forgotten in the two months that they were returned to living under his roof. He had thought nothing of that feeling. He had figured that it was just pre-morning nerves and stresses.

When that empty feeling continued to be felt, he decided to check on his wife and kids. When he saw that his wife's side of the bed was unoccupied, he had thought nothing of it. Angel had just gone off to check on the kids, he had thought; she's not in bed because she's on the third level, checking on the kids. He left his and his wife's bedroom chamber to go check on the kids—he had figured that he'd bump into his wife while doing so. The empty feeling would leave him; he'd be whole and normal again.

Sadly, that didn't happened. His body had gone cold—a shockingly freezing temperature that he had only felt a few times in his long life—after he reached the third floor. Time had also slowed up; that had scared him. Hazaar's chamber was checked then Bile's then Lhaklar's then Lazeer's; he came close to screaming in terror after seeing that each of his sons' beds were empty and that their rooms were unoccupied. The only child of his that was in the room that she was suppose to be in at near four in the morning was Eshal; she was sleeping quite peacefully on her side at the time.

After finding Eshal in her chamber, he double-checked all of the rooms that he had previously checked. The idea of his eyes playing tricks on him had come to his mind, so he went to double-check the rooms to see if his sons were really not in them. Nope; instead of finding Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer all sleeping in their rooms, he had found four empty beds in four empty bedroom chambers. The last seven and a half months had gone by at a super slow pace for him for a reason: almost all of his family was missing. He couldn't think of anything else that would make seven and a half months go by at such a slow pace other than that.

"Tazzy? Time to get up, son. The spheres are up and out; time for you to greet the new day." his mother's voice drifted from out of nowhere; he heard it loud and clear.

The bed—one of them suspension types that hovered on jets of humid air, that was pumped from under the soft-made mattress, that had an air-pump built into it—that he had slept in for the last six weeks was slowly vacated. The bed had no head or baseboard to it; the sheets, the blanket, and the comforter had a checkerboard, multi-blue colored pattern to them. He didn't bother with making the bed; he just got up then went to the bathroom—where he began his usual, half-there, routine.

He emptied his bladder first, then took a shower, then brushed his teeth; when he left the bathroom, he had nothing more than a white towel wrapped around his middle. He went towards the wall that was to the left of the suspension bed. He pressed his hand to the wall then took a step back—three drawers pushed out from the side of the wall; in these drawers were pieces of clothing. His clothing... mostly just underwear, shirts, pants, belts, and socks. A pair of white briefs, a black belt, a pair of dark blue tuxedo pants, then a shirt were removed from the drawers; the shirt that he took from one of the drawers was one of them button down, long sleeve types that had belled cuffs on the ends of the arms. Each of the buttons on the shirt were gold. He donned all of what he took from the drawers then he grabbed the last item that his outfit needed to be semi-complete—a pair of dark blue socks. After taking the socks from the drawer, he turned away from the wall. The three drawers receded into the wall a second later.

He went to the room's one open doorway next. A light blinked on after he reached the doorway; the room beyond the doorway was lit up quite brightly. Hangers, from which a wide assortment of tuxedo jackets and vests hung from, met his eyes; he grabbed a light blue vest, which had faint blue ties on its front, then a dark blue tuxedo jacket before going to the room's far back, where there were a few shelves from which four boxes sat on. The box that had a pair of dark blue formal shoes in it was removed from the middle shelf; he took the shoes out of the box then he placed the box back on the shelf. He left the room afterwards; the light blinked off after he stepped past the doorway.

After leaving the open-doored room, he crossed the bedroom again. His cellular—a silver-colored, handheld talking device, that was about four inches long by three inches wide; the pull-out screen, keyboard, and stylus, or writing utensil, that was attached to its side, allowed for easier communication for ones who either had large fingers or fingers of odd shape—was grabbed from the room's one night stand. The heavy pillow that his head had rested on the night before was lifted after the phone was retrieved; the wallet and the brown leather checkbook, both of which were pretty well swelled with cash and cards, were retrieved afterwards. He put the shoes on then he slid the checkbook into the inside pocket that was on the left side of his tuxedo jacket. The wallet was slid into the back left pocket of his pants. With himself dressed and ready for the day, he made the bed then turned to leave the room. Before achieving two steps he stopped then turned around; he went back to the night stand for the item that he had somehow missed.

The one drawer on the table was pulled out; he reached into its darkness then grabbed the thing that was inside. With the black leather eyeglass case, that contained his goggled glasses, in his possession, he closed the drawer then left the room.

Why was he on Ssaaloo in the first place? Why wasn't he out there, helping his family look for his wife and sons? Well, them two questions were easy to answer: after the riots on Axalwen and Ssaavoo started up, people on the other planets in his Bula Galaxy had started making up riots of their own. It had become somewhat of a Domino Effect—were one riot on one planet would start and then another on another planet would follow and so on and so forth. While he had desired no interruptions or distractions to happen during his time in looking for his wife and sons, he had just not been allowed to ignore what was happening in the Bula Galaxy.

At the start of the year, he had put down five riots in four days time. Some of the riots had dispersed after he showed up while others had required what he called "special attention". Three riots were dropped by the use of his powers, his military, and his swordry skills; he actually had to call in a thousand of his Goblin troops after one of the riots on Axalwen went from being the normal, no-worry type of riot to ultra destructive. After he took care of them problems, and had set his governments back in place on the planets where they were nearly overthrown, he went home. Some R and R was done for three days then he started looking for his wife and sons. His search for his missing family wasn't disturbed until six weeks ago; riots had started up on Ssaaloo, Irmondoxa, Puspadom, and Ashomono. His immediate attention was required. He had to put his involvement in the search for his wife and sons on-hold so he could take care of dispersing them riots and make sure that new riots didn't start up afterwards.

The apartment that he had lived in for the last six weeks had transparent blue, interior walls; he could see the kitchen, which was on the other side of the building's only bedroom, and he could also see the small living room, which was in front of the kitchen. The building's carpet was blue; the apartment's lights were built into the transparent walls—they could either be turned on by the small, blue button, that was to the left of each of the doorways, or they'd turn on after they sensed movement. The kitchen was basic; it had a round table and two chairs in it, along with a small refrigerator, a microwave, and a basic coffee pot. The living room had a couch, a chair, a coffee table, and a small, 25" tv in it. The cost of spending just one night in the apartment was $595; he had no problem in paying that and he had no problem with being in the apartment. What did he do in the apartment anyways? Eat, watch a little tv, read a newspaper, then sleep. That was all. Most of his day was spent in the administrative building, that was two miles away.

"Breakfast, Tazzy. Eat, gain your strength for the rest of the day." his mother's voice told him after he walked into the apartment's kitchen.

He took the pair of goggled glasses out from the eyeglass case then affixed them over his eyes; with his goggled glasses on, he went to work in making a breakfast that he really had no interest in eating. He went to the cabinet that was closest to the stove then, after rummaging around for nearly two minutes, he pulled a small pan out. He placed the pan down, on one of the stove's burners, then he went to the kitchen's small refrigerator; a blast of cool air shot into his face after he opened the door, he ignored it as best he could as he searched and then grabbed the carton of brown eggs, that was on the fridge's lowest shelf. He took two of the eggs out of the carton before putting it back on the shelf that it he had gotten it from. The box of pancake mix was grabbed after much deliberation then the fridge was shut.

He went back to the stove in what a human, who had seen all of them Romero Zombie films, would call a Zombie-ish sort of way then he set to work in making the breakfast that he was probably going to toss in the trash. Using the side of the small pan that was already on the stove, he cracked the two eggs open. He tossed the shells into the sink's built-in disposal then he grabbed another pan from the cabinet that he had gotten the other pan from. He took a bowl out from the cabinet that was to the right of the one that he had gotten the two pans from next; while the eggs sizzled and popped in the pan, he poured a small amount of pancake mix into the bowl. He grabbed a spoon, and then a spatula, out from the drawer that was three steps from the stove then he added some water to the bowl. He mixed the bowl's contents well before pouring it into the unoccupied pan.

Since the pan had a self-buttering system built into it, he didn't have to go back to the refrigerator for a stick of butter; he simply poured enough of the bowl's contents into the pan for one pancake. The eggs were cooking all the while he was stirring the pancake mix; he contemplated scrambling them but, at the last second, he decided to have two fried eggs along with the one pancake. Without thinking about it, he removed his phone from the right inside pocket of his jacket. He flipped the screen up then he placed the phone on the counter that was about two feet from the stove. He returned to the stove to check on the food that was cooking in the pans a second later.

"Message count," he said loudly. His cellular phone was no regular cellular phone. It could be used by both hand and voice command.

"Five new messages," a feminine-sounding, mechanical voice said back. "Receive now or later?"

"Who are the senders of the messages?" he asked.

"One new message from one named Arph Laemoln. One new message from one named Avedis Grayax. One new message from one named Zatix Ficos. One new message from one named EshalVile Surfeit. One new message from one named Ashaklar Ubalki. Receive now or later?"

"Receive now, in order from oldest to newest." he said.

Most of the people who had called and then placed messages to his phone last night were the newly instated, semi-new government officials that he had put on Axalwen and Ssaavoo; they had called to tell him that everything was on schedule and that all heated activities from the past few months had cooled down, which he was glad for. He was waiting to be told that; if things on Axalwen and Ssaavoo continued to stay cool and calm in the next few days, and if things continued to be cool here on Ssaaloo, he would be heading home. A three or four day breather would happen before he resumed his search for his missing wife and sons.

His daughter's message was a long one; as he flipped the pancake that was in the one pan, he listened to her message. She told him all of what was going on at home—his staff were keeping things neat and tidy; they were doing their jobs to perfection, a thing that he really didn't need to be told. All of the Goblins in his staff had good credentials and grades from Staffer's Academy. They took their jobs seriously; he very rarely had to tell them to go do something and he very rarely had to snap at them for doing something wrong or for just standing around, doing nothing. Eshal also claimed that she missed him terribly; she wished that he'd hurry up and get back home soon. He made a mental note to call her back after he finished making his breakfast—which was probably not going to be eaten. He was pretty sure that he'd just plop it all on a plate then sit and look at it before getting up to throw it in the trash.

"Pause messages," he said.

"Messages paused," the mechanical voice, that was programmed into the cellular phone, said.

His food was ready to be taken out of the pans; he grabbed a plate from the cabinet above the stove then he scooped the pancake up from its pan with the spatula. He placed the pancake on the plate slowly then he placed the two fried eggs on either side of it.

He walked the plate to the table then he sat down; as expected, he did nothing more than stare at the food that was before him. While the disinterest in food wasn't this strong seven and a half months ago, it had slowly come around to what it was now—to where anything that he ate required a lot of effort; that empty feeling that he had just robbed food of its taste and it also robbed him of any interest in eating or drinking. Usually, when he ate nowadays, he did the play-thing with his fork. He'd toy with his food for a while, then he'd nearly get up to toss his uneaten food in the trash, then, by some unknown miracle, he'd just shovel it all in. He'd of eaten anything that was put in front of him with no problems if his wife and sons' whereabouts were known or if they hadn't of disappeared; since they were missing, and since they had taken a good chunk of him with them, he was encountering problems with the consumption of food—and with other, everyday activities.

He grabbed the fork then jabbed it into the pancake. Twice. The edge of the fork rolled over the sides of the fried eggs before stopping; he did something that he started doing as a young child afterwards. The fork was slid under the pancake and then lifted; with his finger, he nudged the fried egg that was on the left side of the pancake over. With the fried egg being now in the center of the plate, he placed the pancake down. He scooped the other fried egg up then, with a flick of his wrist, he flipped it over. The second fried egg landed right on top of the pancake to make a sort of fried egg and pancake sandwich. He was seven hundred and five years old when he started doing this; while it grossed his mother and younger sister out, his father had simply said that he was _eating like a man_. Syrup and egg yolk washed out from the pancake-fried egg sandwich; it made a sort of moat appear around the food.

"Messages paused," the mechanical voice on his cellular phone repeated. "Stop paused messages or play?"

"Play," he said. He poked his fork into the pancake-fried egg sandwich that he had just made then he leaned back in his chair.

"Tazir, I've been trying to reach you for weeks—"

For weeks? That was a surprise. He hadn't heard a thing from anyone other than Eshal for six weeks now. Azidia Tazakai, an official working in the administrative building, that was two miles from the apartment that he had spent six weeks sleeping and forcing his meals down in, had said nothing on anyone in his family trying to reach him. He had figured that everyone in his family were busy; the women were busy with the tending of the kids while most of the men were busily searching for his wife and sons. The only one in his family that did squat in looking for his wife and sons was his nephew; Vile had done very little in helping to find Angel and her sons and that just pissed him off. What was his older brother doing? Searching for Angel, Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer. What was his father doing? Searching for Angel, Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer. What was his grandfather doing? Why, he was searching for Angel, Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer. Was Trobrencus, his grandfather's uncle, and his adult son, Trivit, slouching or campaigning? Hell no! They were out there in the Universe, looking for his wife and sons. His mother, his stepfather, and their adult children were also out there, searching for Angel and his and her sons. What was Vile doing? Oh, he's on Earth. He's conquer campaigning on Earth. He's abandoned the search in looking for Angel and her sons—one of which was his own—to go conquer a planet.

"I'm continuously told that you cannot be reached; some Azidia-person keeps telling me that I cannot speak with you even though it's important. I don't know why you haven't called me or anyone other than Eshal but it's very important that we talk." his mother's message was saying. "Homsi and I went to Earth six weeks ago to visit your nephew; we did have some trouble with the man. Tazir, call me back as soon as you can please. We need to talk, it is very important."

The message ended. The the phone's mechanical voice asked if he wanted all of the messages erased or saved. He said for the phone to erase all messages but his mother's then he picked his fork up; a sliver of the pancake-fried egg sandwich was cut and then forced into his mouth. It took a lot of effort to open his mouth to allow the food to go in and it took even more effort to chew and then swallow—the food had since gone cold; the eggs had lost their smooth texture and the pancake had gone limp. He very nearly got up to toss everything that was on his plate in the trash but, with considerable effort, he forced himself to go on in eating all of what was on his plate. Cold or not, he did need to eat. As of the last seven and a half months, his mother had worried over his losing weight. She really shouldn't worry on that area; from what the scales said, he was his normal weight of two hundred and fifteen pounds.

With a lot of effort spent between the two, he was eating and he was exercising. He knew that if he slowed up in eating or in taking down liquid, he'd get sick—his weight would drop, and he'd lose muscle mass. He didn't want that to happen. What good would come from his starving himself? Angel would surely not be happy over his starving himself, she'd insist that he eat and stay healthy and that he remain the way he was. It took every bit of fifteen minutes for him to shovel the pancake-fried egg sandwich into his mouth; he struggled to chew, he struggled to swallow, then he struggled to repeat it all over again with the next forkful. When he was done eating his breakfast, he stood up. He took his plate and fork to the sink for washing then, after the two items, and then the pans, the bowl, and the cooking utensils, were cleaned, he grabbed his phone.

He could well of told the phone vocally to dial his mother's number but, since he was up and somewhat mobile, he figured that he'd best dial the number by hand. It seemed like it took forever for his hand to finally reach and then wrap around the cellular phone and it also felt that it took him forever to dial his mother's number; he found himself thinking that time sure slowed up and seemed unimportant when there was someone missing in your life after he pushed the stylus's end on the last number that would complete the call dialing. Things that seemed important before that special someone left your life slid into that unimportant category; you was working or living your life in slow-motion and you found yourself practically wanting to just curl into a ball in a corner and wish yourself not alive anymore. He was sighing a sad sigh right when his mother answered his call.

"Hello? Hello? Hello?" his mother said in rapid succession. "Who is this? Hello?"

"Mother," TazirVile said. That was really all he could say.

"Tazzy! It's about time you called me back!" his mother exclaimed. "Where in blue blazes have you been? I've been calling the numbers that you said you could be reached at at all times—I keep being told that you cannot be reached or that you're too busy to talk to."

"Sorry about that; until this morning, I didn't know about your trying to get in contact with me." TazirVile said. "Was last night the first time you tried calling my cellular?"

"Yes,"

"Should of called me on that number instead; I'll get on Azidia the soonest I see her about her not letting me know about your attempts in trying to get in contact with me." TazirVile said, he cleared his throat lowly. "What was it that you said you wanted to talk to me about? In your message, you said that it was something important that you wished to speak to me about."

"You're wife and sons—"

"What about them?" suddenly, everything stopped moving around him. It had already been quiet that morning; after hearing his mother say _you're wife and sons_ , everything grew even more quiet and still.

"They've been found."

His stomach, all of a sudden, went from being chilled to feeling all warm and toasty. His eyes grew wide; the muscle, that was in his arms and legs, moved as the news of his missing wife and sons being discovered was told to him. He practically wanted to drop the phone then yell for joy at the news but he reined that want in firmly; he'd do plenty of yelling and whooping and hollering for joy after he hung the phone up. The first time his wife and sons went missing, he hadn't heard any leads on where they were or on how they were doing for sixteen hundred years. After his wife and sons' location was discovered, he had thought that he'd be bringing only three or four of his missing persons home. He had sadly thought that his lastborn son—his prematurely born son, LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit—had passed away sometime after his wife left with the boys but that thought had been way wrong.

Instead of bringing three or four of his missing family home—instead of bringing just Angel, Bile, and Lhaklar or Angel, Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar home—he had found himself bringing all of them home. His prematurely born son was one hundred percent alive and he was also perfectly healthy, which was one hell of a happy surprise for him. After not seeing hide nor hair of Hazaar, his secondborn son, who was conceived through artificial means, he had thought that he hadn't survived either. He had thought that one of the plagues or one of the natural disasters had claimed his secondborn son but that hadn't happened. The thought of his wife not being able to keep Hazaar healthy and alive because of the demands put on her by four children had also been thought of but it hadn't been as clear of a thought as the one about Hazaar being claimed by one of the plagues or natural disasters that swept through Earth in the time that they were missing. If he had found that either of his two, younger sons had passed away in the time that they were missing, he would of been sad. He'd of been heartbroken, but that hadn't happened. All four of his sons—his three biological sons and his adopted son—were found alive and well.

"Where?" he asked. He was suddenly flooded with energy. "Where have they been found? Where are they? Are they together?"

"We're not fully sure on the whereabouts but it's the same planet that they were found on a year ago." his mother replied.

"Earth?" it was a dumb question but it was a question that needed to be asked.

"Yes," his mother replied. "Tazir, your nephew knew all along that they were on the planet. He claims that he didn't know that they were on the planet but we think otherwise. He had pictures! Pictures of the boys in a folder when Homsi and I went to see him."

"Vile kn... Blast his ass! How do the boys look? Any sightings of Angel? Have you spoke to Vile on where they were seen?" TazirVile asked. Finding out that his nephew had knowledge of where his wife and sons were pissed him off. So was that the reason for why his nephew had broke off from the search? Had he known all the while where Angel and her sons went to?

"None of the pictures that we have show Angel in them," his mother said. "The boys look healthy."

"Do you still have the pictures?" TazirVile asked.

"Yes,"

"Can you do a fax or mail me a copy of each? I can't leave Ssaaloo yet—it'll be three or four more days before I can leave." TazirVile said.

"Your stepfather made copies six weeks ago; we were waiting to hear from you before sending them in the mail." his mother said. "We'll put them in the mail now; should we mail them to Ssaaloo or to your home address?"

"Send them to Moas; call the house, get Eldass on the line. See if he'll do a personal delivery after they get to my place." TazirVile said.

"Will do. Your nephew claims that one of his staff had the pictures for all of ten days. He says that one of his staff just held onto the pictures for ten days before handing them over."

"Likely story, it's just like Vile to uphold something as important as information on where his daughter and his daughter's sons are." TazirVile huffed.

"Is the order from the Elder Courts still on-going? That as long as we're looking for Angel and her sons, and as long as we have proof that they're on the planet, we have a right to be on Earth?" his mother asked.

"I'll have to do a check on that. If it's not, I'll get a new order made up. I want my wife and sons back and I'll be damned if my nephew or any other being in the Universe stops me." TazirVile said. There was a sharp knock on the apartment's door at just that precise moment. "I need to go now, mother. I'll be in touch. My cellular is on me at all times so call me on that, okay?"

"Okay, your stepfather says hello."

"Tell him I said hello back." TazirVile said, he then pressed the button on his cellular phone to disconnect the line.

The rest of the 15th, the 16th, and the 17th of September came and went without anything that had the word _Confidential_ either written or stamped on its topside being slid into the mailbox, that was to the side of the wrought iron gate, that was in front of his employer's residence. When the morning of September the 18th came and went, Eldass Zultoa became worried that something had happened in the mail system; that somewhere, the mail that his employer was looking forward to receiving was overlooked, thrown out, sent to the wrong mailing address, or lost. The assumed claim was that his employer's mother and stepfather—Ashaklar and Cheshire Ubalki—had put a manila envelope in their outgoing mail three mornings ago. The manila envelope contained some very important photographs in it that were of high interest to his employer and they had yet to show up, which unnerved him.

Surely, the Ubalki's had put special stamps or had insisted on express mailing the manila envelope. Surely, they would of done something to make the photographs show up sooner. They wouldn't keep his employer waiting this long; they might want to screw with his nerves but they wouldn't want to mess with his employer's... right? Eldass jerked up when he heard the sound of a motor. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he went to the mansion's front door. He opened the door just a crack then looked out; a truck ambled by, but it wasn't a mail truck—it was one of them milk trucks, either making deliveries or picking up empty milk bottles. He sighed a nervous and disappointed sign then closed the door.

While he had no experience in working the mail department, he did know that mail got lost while en-route to its addressed location. For some reason, when a package or letter was correctly and perfectly addressed and then stamped, it never reached its destination because it was lost in transit during its time in the buildings that were designated for mail sifting and then organizing. It had either dropped off the assembly line or was accidentally thrown out or dropped by one of the sentient beings that grabbed the mail bags too hastily.

Zshon, his oldest son, who either read or watched too much science fiction movies, shows, or books, claimed that the people who handled the mail purposely changed addresses or took the stamps off certain envelopes or packages—so them pieces of mail never got to their destinations. While mail did get mailed to the wrong addresses, he doubted if the mail-people were the cause for that. His son also claimed that some of the mail-people that delivered the mail grabbed handfuls of mail from their mail delivery bags then did the stuff-in-the-pocket thing when no one was looking; he knew that that wasn't true. While mail was sometimes stolen, the mail-people weren't seen as the thieves; it was typically the people who were milling around after mail delivery that stole certain mailed things.

Mail sometimes arrived to its destination all bent up or creased or even destroyed; Zshon claimed that the mail-people liked to play mail-pong from time to time in their spare time, which was ridiculous. Oh, the envelope or package arrived to its destination but there was nothing in it; Zshon claimed that the mail-people decided to take what was in the envelopes or packages and then tape or wrap the envelopes or packages up to look like they hadn't been tampered with. The mail wasn't handled like that anymore; it use to be handled that way but a new system and rules, and a plethora of cameras, placed all around the mail buildings, and in the mail delivery vans, cars, and trucks, prevented most of that science-fiction influenced crap from happening. About five hundred thousand years ago, people _had_ to worry about all of that happening; now, people didn't have to worry about that happening. The mail was safe. His science fiction junky of a son claimed otherwise; if it wasn't for the importance of what was coming in through the mail, he would of laughed and done some mail-related jokes with his son. He was treating the matter of what was suppose to be coming in the mail seriously. It _was_ of great importance!

"Hello, you have reached Surfeit Mansion. I'm sorry for saying this but the owner is currently not available—he is out, on business. How may I help you?"

That was how he answered the phone while at work—if he was close enough to a phone while doing his daily, workday chores, he'd pick it up then answer in that exact way. It was better for an employee to answer the employer's telephone in that way; it was professional and it was polite and it was far better than simply saying 'hello, you've reached Surfeit Mansion, how may I help you on this fine day'. He was in his employer's bedroom when the phone rang; at the time, he was feeding his employer's wife's pet Sekhems. He had dropped what he was doing to grab the room's phone up from its station.

The way he had gotten to the phone wasn't very professional; he had a feeling that, during the early morning hours of the 15th of September, a call would be placed and the caller would ask for him. When that phone went off, he practically jumped on and then ran across his employer's and his employer's wife's bed to get to it. A clanging sound had resounded around the room after he reached the phone—another unprofessional move on his part; an employee was suppose to place his or her hand on the phone delicately, not slam his or her hand on the phone and then struggle to get the receiver off its base unit or station. After picking the phone up, he spoke into the receiver.

"Hello—it's Ashaklar, your employer's mother. I was wondering if Mr. Zultoa was available to speak with." the caller, Ashaklar Ubalki, had said.

"The first, second, third, or fourth, Mrs. Ubalki?" since Mr. Surfeit had generously employed three of his sons, that was a right important question to ask.

"Eldass,"

"Speaking,"

"Hello, Mr. Zultoa—instead of answering the phone, then asking the caller how you may help them, you should of said that it was you that answered." Ashaklar said. "Your employer asked for me to ask you to if you could bring him something."

"I'd be honored to be of service to him, ma'am." he replied. "What is it that I'm being asked to take to my employer?"

"A manila envelope—it has some photographs in it so be careful. Please don't bend or roll it or anything—the photographs are very important." Ashaklar said. "My husband and I just sent it off so it should get to my son's address either a little later on today or in the next few days."

"I'll be on the look-out for it. Once it's here, I'll hop on over to see Master Tazir with it. Is he still on Ssaaloo?"

"Yes, says he will be for another three or four days." Ashaklar replied.

He had waited; he had done his work-related chores in his employer's mansion while doing so and, with each passing day that the manila envelope wasn't placed in the mailbox, he had grown concerned. Normally, he wouldn't pull much of a sweat over being told to be on the look-out for some piece of mail that was expected to come in through the system and, normally, he wouldn't have to be told to do something—he was taking no chances on this one. He was treating this assignment like he was treating the rest of his work-related assignments and chores: with high seriousness, high alertness, and a touch of paranoia for flavor.

He hadn't had to work like this seven months, two weeks, and four days ago; before the second month of the year started, he was able to work freely and he was also able to breathe and relax and be happy while doing so. After the 28th of January came and went, he started working on his toes; being careful of what he did, said, and, yes, being careful of where he went within the mansion that he had worked his entire working career in. The man who employed him right out of Staffer's Academy, and who he had worked his entire working career for—the very one who's name was written on his Loyalty Papers, in his own blood, so many thousands of years ago—had very nearly thrown him the pink slip of doom on the morning of January the 28th.

Like so many others—his co-workers, and his family and friends—, he was shocked over nearly being fired. He hadn't put the blame of his nearly being let go on his mistress, though; he did believe that she had a good reason for leaving with her sons. Mistress Angel was under a lot of stress; most of the people that were living under his employer's roof as temporary guests had made her and her sons' lives become stressed—not to mention, she and the Young Masters were also under threat by a dark force, that was trying to take them under its possession. They should of seen it coming and they should of either tried to prevent or be ready for it. While his co-workers, friends, and his immediate family were understanding, and even supportive, after he was nearly fired from the job, his father-in-law—a man who he had never really gotten along with—had attempted a familial sabotage. His father-in-law had put a call in to his wife, Aboshi, right after finding out what happened then he had offered to take her and the kids—all of them, not just the young ones but also the adult ones—in should he be nixed from the job.

He had practically been working and walking about the mansion on the very tips of his toes after his employer's wife and sons were discovered as missing. The shock had turned to fear. He had grown fearful that, if he did anything out of the ordinary, or _in_ the ordinary, or _over_ the ordinary, he'd be seeing the pink slip and possibly his employer's shoe coming at him. Was he angry over the near loss of his job and the friendship that he and his employer had formed between themselves over the years? No, he figured that he did deserve to have something thrown at him for his employer's wife and sons' disappearance. Had he not been in charge of watching over Mistress Angel? Had he not been told to stick to her like glue on the day of the 27th of January? That was a yes, to both. His employer had said for him to keep at her side. To be her personal servant for the day... To be her personal bodyguard for the day, practically.

He had a feeling that something wasn't right after his alarm went off on the morning of the 28th of January. His bones had told him that something was wrong; the chilliness that was in his and Aboshi's bedroom had told him that something wasn't right; and the total quiet that was in his and Aboshi's house had also told him that something wasn't right. He hadn't gotten any answers to what it was that was wrong until after he drove into the employee garage that was behind his employer's mansion home. He had no more parked his car before finding one of his co-workers—a big, burly Goblin that Mr. Surfeit employed as a guard some four thousand years earlier—rushing towards him. He had gotten out of his car then he had held his hands up to show that he was safe and innocent, which he was. Except for a small pocketknife, which he would of left in his car had the guard of not rushed at him, he had nothing harmful or dangerous on his person. He and his daughter, Mekaia, were marched into their employer's mansion; his three sons had followed soon after, as had seven others. They were led to their employer's dining room, which had already been right crowded—the entire Surfeit and Ubalki clans had also been led to the room—, then they were locked in. That dining room had become even more crowded afterwards; he estimated that there were a total of three hundred plus people crammed into the room before the door was opened and Mr. Surfeit came in to start calling people out for interviews.

It hadn't really taken but so long for his employer to get to him and for him to get his answers on what was going on—it was maybe an hour, maybe an hour and a half, before he was called. He was shocked over being told that Mistress Angel and her sons had disappeared—yet again, in the dead of night. All of what happened the day before was told; Mistress Angel had seemed fine, a little jumpy, and headache-y, but fine. She had given no signs in wanting to leave the house again. The only time that he left her side was when she went to the bathroom, or the three or four times that she said she was going to take a thirty minute nap in her and her husband's bedroom chamber. His employer had asked him if his wife went into his office at any time before or after she took them three or four, thirty minute naps; he had said no then he had asked why he had asked that question. Apparently, $400 had also been discovered as missing from Master Tazir's safe; Master Tazir thought that his wife had taken the money before leaving with the kids—he didn't know if she had or hadn't. Not once while he was acting as her personal bodyguard had she entered his employer's office. Master Tazir, as he called the man, had thanked him for "being a sport" during the interview then he had jumped at him. A motherload of words, curses, and sentences were thrown at him before he was told to leave the room—his employer had said for him to just plain get the hell out of his office; to either go home or go work. He had left that office in a hurry. He had stayed clear of his employer all the rest of that day and he had pretty much been looking over his shoulder at every odd sound that he heard when he was working that day.

"Mail come yet?" Losal Khrelan, a five foot tall Goblin, who had green skin, a few warts on his face, a thin, but long, nose, and short, scraggly brown hair, asked. Eldass shook his head. "How long has it been since Master Tazir's mother told you she was sending the photographs here?"

"Three days and it looks like the morning of the fourth," Eldass replied. "I'm a bit concerned—she said that it'd be here in one or two days."

"Maybe something came up. Space weather or something that slowed the mail crafts up, or a mix-up in the mail transition or something." Losal said.

"Please don't do that imaginative science fiction thing on why the photographs haven't gotten here yet," Eldass pleadingly thought; Losal Khrelan was like his oldest son—he was also a Science Fiction lover.

"My sister, Afila, once ordered something from one of them magazines that advertised collectibles," Losal started; Eldass looked up at the ceiling in dread. Here came one of them real-life sayings that could be twisted into a possible explanation for why the photographs hadn't come in the mail yet. "she didn't see what she ordered for nearly eight months. It came in the mail fine; the package was in fine order, and the item that she ordered was fine, but the delay in shipping was just aggravating."

"No offense, Losal, but what's expected to come in through the mail is a bit more important than a magazine-ordered collectible." Eldass said. He tried his best to not sound offending or hurtful.

"I know that. Was just saying that, in some parts of the mailing system, things are slow. Just have to be patient." Losal shrugged. He gave Eldass a pat on the shoulder when his co-worker said nothing in return. "They'll get here."

Eldass nodded his head—all the while he was waiting and feeling concern over the delay in the manila envelope's delivery, he had wondered if his co-worker, Homsi Modulavich, had seen the photographs that he and Mrs. Ubalki had taken from Earth six weeks and three days ago. After word reached his employer about his mother's planned trip to Earth, an order was given for Homsi to go with her; to help her if things got hairy and to keep her protected—just in case Master Vile got nasty with her. Mr. Modulavich was there when the photographs were found; there was a good chance that Mr. Modulavich had seen the photographs. Eldass was pretty sure that his employer's sons were all healthy and in good, physical condition—they were in very surprising physical condition when they were discovered to be alive and well a year ago; why wouldn't they still not look in that same condition?—but the question still lingered on how they were all faring.

Mistress Angel had been a very attentive mother—her sons were still allowed to nurse from her and take in her natural milk. Even though they had reached that mid-teenage phase in their lives, she was still right protective of them and they were still right attached to her. There was no reason for why she would stop being so attentive or protective of her sons now, seven months, two weeks, and four days after their disappearance. Eldass figured that his employer's wife would always be rather protective and attentive to her kids; even though everyone in the Surfeit clan had told her to stop letting her sons nurse from her breasts, she had continued to do so and, even though everyone in the Surfeit clan had told her to be less attentive towards her kids, she had continued to do so. Eldass didn't know what was wrong with his employer's family, and why they had a problem with Mistress Angel's maternal instincts or care provided towards her kids, but he, personally, thought she was a fine mother. When one of the clocks in the mansion started tolling noon, Eldass started to leave his post. The mail person usually came around to his employer's residence at 9:30 a.m.; it looked like there would be no mail for that morning.

It was just his luck that, once he started going down the short hallway, that came off the foyer, a blue mini-van, with an envelope painted on its sides, drove down the street and then stopped at the mailbox, that was to the side of the wrought iron gate, that had his employer's initials on it.

"And he's off to the races!" Losal thought as he watched Eldass tear out of their employer's mansion.

It was really only Losal who saw his mad dash back to the front door of their employer's mansion; his older and much more senior-ranking co-worker's feet barely touched the floor before being jerked up again. A hole was very nearly made in the wall after Eldass grabbed and then yanked the front door open; Losal leaped back in startled surprise then took a few steps forward. He got only a peak of what the rest of his co-worker's race to their employer's mailbox was like—he was required to head back to work; he couldn't just stand by or linger in the foyer. He envisioned the events of his co-worker's run well, though.

Eldass Zultoa, an elderly looking Goblin who wasn't really elderly at all—the many facial wrinkles that he sported on his face would give any being that indication—, practically leaped off the mansion's front porch. He tore halfway across his employer's front yard before slowing down to a brisk walk. Running to the mailbox wasn't necessary; if the manila envelope, that contained the all-important photographs, that his employer's mother had mailed to her son, was put in the box then it would remain there until he took it out. His fluffy, white hair—which was once a dull, coppery red color several thousand years ago before he went and dyed it white, and which was nicely combed to the side before he raced out of his employer's residence in a semi-excited, semi-panicked sort of way—was blown back and sweat-matted. His forehead was beaded with sweat. Several trails of sweat rolled down the sides of his light blue face as he walked down the yellow rocked path towards the mailbox, which was welded to the side of the front gate. By the time he reached the mailbox, he had regained some of his composure. After reaching the all black, metal mailbox, that had vine-like designs on its sides and top, he quickly dropped the door then reached in.

One would really have to take a good look at him to take note that, even though he had regained control of his main, physical self, he hadn't really, fully regained control of his emotional or mental self. His light blue eyes were wide and bright with his relief and excitement; his hands shook slightly as he took the manila envelope, that had a sticker on its front that said _Confidential,_ out from the mailbox; and his throat clicked loudly when he swallowed. When he sighed, his sigh was shaky. He wasted no time in teleporting to Ssaaloo after retrieving the envelope from his employer's mailbox. Two drops of sweat fell from the tip of his nose—which was long; the nostrils that his nose harbored were rather large—as he teleported with the manila envelope in-hand. After he teleported to the apartment where his employer was staying at, he reached into his white tuxedo jacket for the kerchief that was in the inside left pocket. He wiped his face quickly, making it go from being wet with sweat to dry, then he placed his kerchief back in the pocket that he had gotten it from. Eldass straightened his black tie before running his hand over his hair to make himself look more presentable and professional; with that area taken care of, he went towards the apartment that was in front of him. He knocked on the door three times after reaching it then he stepped back. He waited patiently for sixty seconds before stepping forward to knock again. He sighed after his employer answered the door a few seconds later.

"Master Tazir," he said after his employer answered the door. He bowed politely.

"Mr. Zultoa," TazirVile Surfeit said. He took in the slight untidiness of his second Most Trusted employee, who also happened to be the longest-employed butler in his staff, quickly before stepping back. "Please, come in."

"Thank you, sir." Eldass said. He walked into the apartment that his employer had been living in for the last six weeks and three days quickly then, after the door was shut behind him, he held the manila envelope out. "The items that your mother asked for me to bring to you arrived less than one minute ago, sir."

"I have been waiting on pins and needles for these." TazirVile said excitedly. He took the manila envelope from his employer's hand slowly. "Thank you, Mr. Zultoa. If you will please take a seat while I review these. I was just about to leave to head back to the administrative building—you're very lucky to of caught me."

The apartment's living room was just around the corner; he went to it quickly then he went straight to the couch. While he took a seat on the blue couch, that was in a blue carpeted room, that had transparent blue walls in it, his employer sat in the light blue chair that was perpendicular to the couch. The light brown coffee table, that had a storage space between the four legs, seemed out of place in the all-blue room; if he was the owner of the apartment, he'd of purchased and then placed a baby blue coffee table in the living room instead. Eldass looked at his employer; TazirVile Surfeit had already undone the little string, that was wound around the wheel, that was on the back of the envelope. The man's forearm was nearly all the way in the envelope now.

TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit looked different than what he had six weeks and three days ago; Eldass had taken note of the man's good energy, and of the good, energized walk that he had after he came into the apartment. He saw that as a good sign; the depression that gripped his employer right after he completed the interviews, that he did after he found his wife and sons missing, seemed to of gone away. The man looked to of regained control of himself. Eldass made note of the fact that his employer's attitude seemed to of lifted; his employer didn't seem to be in a glum mood anymore, which was also good.

The man that employed him right out of Staffer's Academy looked very healthy, despite all of what he went through in the past seven months, two weeks, and three days. The man who was seated in the light blue chair had light blue skin; he had an upside down, teardrop-shaped head that sported two large, oval-shaped eyes, that were a bright and shiny silver color, in its center. There was no nose on the man's face; instead, there were two holes where a nose would normally be. The mouth that was under them two nose-holes was O-shaped. The fingers that were on the backs of the now manila-evicted photographs had suction cups on their tips; the fingers that the suction cups were attached to looked rather strong.

Eldass didn't need to be told that his employer was a tall man. He knew that TazirVile Surfeit stood six foot, one and he also knew that his employer had a lean body build, that had a lot of muscle on it. There was good, hard muscle all over his employer's body; TazirVile Surfeit had good muscle mass on his arms, legs, stomach, shoulders, chest, and back. Master Tazir was wearing a striped, dark green tuxedo; the jacket, of which, sported a long, split tail in the back, which went all the way to the floor. The shoes that were on his employer's feet were formal and dark green in color. The tie that was around the man's neck matched the tuxedo in color; the vest that was under the tuxedo jacket was also dark green, but it had artichoke green ties on it. The shirt that was under the vest was long sleeved; the buttons that went down its front were gold. There were belled cuffs at the ends of both of the shirts's arms. The glasses that his employer was wearing were held to his face by an elastic band, which went around his head; the glasses were clear but they weren't of the glass-type. They were made of a squishy type of material; the glasses that his employer was wearing weren't the normal type of glasses—they were special made ones that helped one that had a sensitivity to sun or ray-light see while being outside when it was light out.

"These're my boys alright!" TazirVile Surfeit said excitedly. He started to flip through the photographs again. Eldass merely watched as his employer flipped through the photographs two more times. When his employer suddenly stopped, he got the distinct feeling of being looked at. Since his employer had eyes that were a solid silver color, he had to learn how to rely on his sense of feeling to know if he was being looked at or not. "Has Homsi seen these?"

"Not that I know of, sir." Eldass replied.

"He come in for work today?" TazirVile asked.

"Yessir. Believe he was on the fifth floor when the mail came." Eldass replied.

TazirVile Surfeit nodded his head then reached into his tuxedo jacket; after a second or two, he removed the cellular phone, that he put in his left inside pocket that early morning. Eldass watched in silence as his employer used the phone's stylus to dial a number then, after the caller answered the call put to him, he listened as his employer spoke. It only took a short few seconds of listening before Eldass put a name to the person that his employer had called; TazirVile Surfeit had dialed either Homsi Modulavich's regular, non-work cellular phone number or the cellular phone that Mr. Modulavich used for work. Master Tazir was asking Homsi a few questions like, if he had seen the photographs that he and Ashaklar had taken from Master Vile, if he had any knowledge of where the photographs were taken, and if Mr. Modulavich was going to be available for a couple of days. His employer was on his phone for all of five minutes; when the man was through with talking to Homsi, he flipped the phone's top down then placed it back in the pocket that he had gotten it from. Master Tazir resumed looking at the photographs again for a few minutes before putting them away. He slid them back into the manila envelope then stood up.

"Mr. Zultoa, how are things at home with you?" Eldass blinked his eyes; this wasn't a question that he had expected to be asked.

"Good, sir." Eldass replied. "My wife and I just welcomed a new baby girl to the family; a new section has been added to the back of the house so I won't have to consider kicking any of the kids, or their spouses, out."

"You available to be out of the house for a couple of days?" TazirVile asked. "Say, four days to a week?"

Eldass thought it over for a few minutes; he and Aboshi had just welcomed kid number fifteen to their home just last month and the contractor that he hired to oversee the expansion of his house had just signed the paper saying that his job was done in overseeing all that went on in the construction of the eight new rooms that he wanted to be added to the house. Dolrawaa was born a month early but she was a strong baby girl; she had actually been born at a good, solid, six pounds. There was no need for her or her mother to be kept in the hospital. Despite the birth of a new granddaughter, his in-laws had still raised Cain over his continuing to have kids with their daughter. His father-in-law, Teromeo Raclomor, had nearly punched him in the jaw after walking into the hospital room, where his daughter and his new granddaughter were resting in. Both of his in-laws had wanted him to snip the sacred sacks after Saplina was born; they had said it again after Malmeen and Bamaia, and then Zardox, his second youngest child and son, were born.

Mr. and Mrs. Raclomor thought that he was being selfish. They thought that he was forcing their daughter to continuously have babies, which was absurd. Aboshi loved being a mother; he loved being a father; they had plenty of money coming in to support all of them; and they were happy with how things were going in their lives. Aboshi had really set her parents straight after Teromeo and his wife started getting on him for not doing the operation that would spare her from bringing further children into the Universe; she had told them in not so many words to leave him alone and to just pipe down on the testicular surgery because, as she had so said it, she didn't want him to lose the ability to create more kids and she didn't want to not have further children by him. Aboshi, even after being married to him for so many thousands of years, and even after giving birth to fifteen children, and even after having to deal with her parents' feelings towards him, still loved him. Dolrawaa had made things a bit hectic at home for all of two weeks; she was more settled now so, yes, he could leave the house for a couple of days... if the cause for that absence was important, that was. He'd not allow for himself to be out of the house and away from his family unless it was for a good reason. He liked to be around his family and to help his wife in the child-raising.

"If it's to go to Earth, to find and bring your wife and sons back home, I'm all yours; my wife will understand my loyalty towards you and yours." Eldass said. He then added in an honest sort of way, "You know me, sir. I only allow for myself to be out of the house for a good length of time when it's for a good cause."

"I'm aware of that. You're a good employee, and a good husband, Mr. Zultoa." TazirVile said. "I won't be heading to Earth just yet; I'll need concrete proof that my wife and sons are on the planet before I do. Mr. Modulavich has already said that he'd be honored to go down to the shielded areas on Earth to look for my wife and sons, would you be willing to join him in the search?"

"Yessir," Eldass nodded his head.

"Good. I'm sure that Mr. Modulavich will enjoy the company, and the extra help in the search. Make sure to take a camera with you. If either of you two gentlemen see my wife, or my sons, you are to use that camera. See if you can get video evidence as well, and take note of where they are seen." TazirVile said.

"I live to obey you, Master Tazir." Eldass stood up from the couch. He bowed before teleporting out of the apartment; he appeared on his front porch a few seconds later.


	15. Chapter 15

"Man, I'm so jealous!" Lazeer exclaimed after seeing the turtles, that were in one of the two glass aquariums, that were in his older brother's bedroom. "Where'd you find them? How much did you spend on them?"

Hazaar couldn't help but beam in pride; his younger brother was doing exactly as he had hoped he would. Lazeer was going crazy over the three turtles that were in the semi-aquatic aquarium, that was on top of the dark brown, two-shelf bookcase, and he was practically tripping all over himself over the two other turtles, that were swimming about in the fully aquatic aquarium, that was on the shelf, that was below the semi-aquatic aquarium. The evenly divided, semi-aquatic tank, that was on top of the two-shelf bookcase, was forty-six inches long by eighteen inches wide; the left side of the tank consisted of a land-mass type of environment while the right side of the tank had clear, shallow water in it.

He had worked pretty hard to get the land-mass part of the tank to look the way it was—it was higher than the water part of the tank thanks to the two thin slabs of rock, which were under a fine layer of mixed dirt, gravel, and sand substrate. He had done his best to make the land-mass part of the tank look natural. There were two, flat, cork bark pieces lying near the water-part of the tank; in the top corner of the left side of the tank, there was a mass of Sphagnum moss while, in the other corner of the left side of the tank, there was an artificial tree bark stump. There was a fake Mayan Fan Palm and a fake rainforest Fern placed on either side of the bark stump. Fake autumn leaves were strewn about the land-mass part of the tank; there were several, uncoiled, fake Ivy vines hanging down from the top of the cage, that was over the land-mass part of the tank. The water-portion of the cage had decorative river rocks lining its bottom; there were two, small, artificial logs floating in the water—they were specifically made for aquatic turtles. The back of the cage had a tropical background taped to it to give the turtles that were in the cage a little more comfortable setting. The glass aquarium had a heat resistant screen top on it that had a low-wattage basking light and a reptile UVB light on it.

There were three small turtles in the cage; two that were on one of the floating turtle logs and another that was on the land-mass part of the cage. The three turtles, all hatchlings, had cost him nearly seven Yuan each; he had purchased all of them a week ago, when he decided to break one of his mother's rules in teleporting to a different country without telling or getting her permission first. He had bought the turtles from a vendor, who was working in the Fangcun Market, a former area of the city of Guangzhou, that was in the Guangdong Providence in South China, who was selling all sorts of turtles, from softshell to aquatic to semi-aquatic and land-based.

Two of the turtles that were in the semi-aquatic cage had a mostly red-brown shell, that had a yellow spinal ridge, while the third turtle's shell was amber-colored. The third turtle also had a smoky spinal ridge going down the center of its shell. All three of the turtles had sharp, pointy spikes running along the edges and spines of their shells; two of the turtles also had three or four spikes jutting up from between the spinal ridge and edges of their shells.

After purchasing the turtles, he had hoped to be home before his mother came in from work; sadly, that didn't happen. After Guyunis used the communicator, that she got for him at the start of the month, she was forced to come home early—at the time, Guyunis wasn't feeling well and he wanted to tell her about it. He came home at the same time that she was walking through the front door; after giving him a single look, she went upstairs to retrieve Guyunis. He was given a short reprieve of punishment for an hour and a half while she was dealing with taking Guyunis to the doctor to be checked out; after they returned home, she asked him where he went to get the turtles that he came home with. He had found himself as being grounded for a week after telling her that he went to South China; she had let him keep the turtles but she had said that, if he went off to another country again without asking her for permission first, he'd be getting worse than a simple, week-long grounding. The week-long grounding hadn't really been all that bad. He had gotten a lot of inside and outside house chores to do, and he wasn't allowed to watch any tv, or listen to any of his music, or leave the house to join his brothers in their out-of-the-house activities. All of his brothers knew about the turtles that he brought back but, until now, none of them had really asked about them or had the guts to come into his room to check them out.

"One euro note and then some euro coins—each." Hazaar replied. He laughed lightly when Lazeer looked at him in shock, which swiftly turned to confusion, before adding, "I had some of my September allowance left over—had a ten euro note on me, and I also found a five dollar bill in American currency in one of my pants pockets. I converted it all to Chinese currency after I appeared in China. Spent a little over twenty Yuan on them."

"You spent over three euros on three turtles!" Lazeer exclaimed, after saying nothing for a few minutes. "What are they? Do you know their species?"

"Mhmmm," Hazaar nodded his head. "Spiny Turtle—Heosemys spinosa. Found mostly in Indonesia, Malaysia, and the Philippines; they use to be found in Brunei, Myanmar, Singapore, and Thailand."

All of what he told his brother was told to him by the vendor that he purchased the three turtles from. According to the vendor that he purchased the turtles from, the humans had hunted the turtles to extinction in Brunei and Myanmar for their meat and for the pet trade; the species had disappeared from Singapore and Thailand after them two island countries flooded some four hundred and twenty years ago.

"Did you just get these?" Lazeer asked as he went to look at the turtles, that were in the fully aquatic tank, that was on the shelf under the semi-aquatic tank.

The cage that his brother was looking at now was the one that had cost him the most to build, set-up, and then furnish. Unlike his younger brother, who went out and spent all of what he was given to get what he needed for his frog-keeping hobby in one or two days time, he had waited a little while before visiting the pet stores that were in and around Elchesheim-Illingen. He had made a list of everything that he needed then he went out to browse through some of the pet stores that were in and around town; he had no more started browsing through the stores when he found himself a little low in funds—every damn thing that was on his list was expensive! He'd of been flat broke by the time he got through getting the two cages and the substrate. After finding himself low on funds, he went brother-bugging. He had bugged Lhaklar for fifty extra euros for all of four days then, after Lhaklar gave him the €50 that he had bugged him for, he went shopping.

After doing his brother-bugging, he decided to not use any of the money that he had on him to buy the cages with. He made those by use of his powers. The other items that were on his list were purchased from the pet shops that were in Elchesheim-Illingen and Au am Rhein. After the two cages were made and then the placed in his room, and after all of the cage furnishing was purchased, he set to work in fixing the two cages' environments up; the cage that his brother was looking at now had a rather expensive water system in it, which had cost him €30. There was a fine layer of small river rocks along the system's bottom—they aided the machine in keeping the tank's water clean.

The glass tank was the same size as the semi-aquatic tank that the Spiny Turtles were in; its environment was completely different, though. There was about twelve inches worth of water in the tank; the water system was keeping the water nice and clear and healthy for the two turtles that were in it. There were three, green, artificial Hagen Hortwort plants, two artificial sword leaf plants, and two artificial Begonia plants in the tank; the two cave ornaments, that were in the cage's center, were called Fin Rock caves. The cage had an underwater Amazon forest background taped to its back; the three floating Lily Pads, that were floating about on the water's surface, were the last things that he had bought for the cage's environment. The cage's screen top had a UVB light and a low-wattage heat light on it; there was a temperature reader on the tank's left glass panel—it currently read fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit.

"This one must be happy, it's sm..." Hazaar readied himself for it; his brother had yet to see what the fully aquatic tank's turtles looked like. Lazaar jumped after seeing what the two turtles looked like. "Dude! They have snake necks!"

A Chinese shoftshell turtle was the main thing that he was interested in buying when he went to the Fangcun market a week ago; sadly, he wasn't able to acquire one. Apparently, the Chinese softshell was reserved for only carnosaurs and restaurant owners—the Chinese only sold the turtle as a food source. He had asked three vendors if they'd sell him one or two of their Chinese softshell turtles and he had gotten a no each time; he was forced to find a different type of water-based turtle for the second tank. After his punishment of a week came to a close, he asked his mother for permission to go to Australia. He had explained the reason for why he wanted to go to the island country after she asked him why he wanted to go there. He had some money on him so he wouldn't be going to the island flat-broke; a quick conversion of the Yuan's that he had into Australian dollars would be done soon after he appeared on the island, he said to her. After thinking it over for a few hours, she gave him her blessing to go to Australia.

He had found a slight problem after getting to the island country—what he had on his person in Chinese currency wasn't enough to buy a turtle. He had found out very quickly that, if he converted his 78.98 Yuan to Australian Dollars, he'd of only $16.13 on his person. He went back home, then he exchanged the Yuans for European currency, then he went back to Australia. After the money was changed over, he went shopping. He wasn't successful in finding a softshell turtle in Australia; there were none available but, there were plenty of the Eastern Long Neck Turtles available. He had purchased two of those.

Even though the two turtles that were in the aquatic tank weren't of the softshell variety that he was looking for, he did think that they were right cool. The two turtles that were swimming about in the tank had broad, flat shells that were mostly a dark green color. The plastron, or underbelly part of the shell, was very broad; one of the turtles had a creamy-colored plastron while the other's was yellow. If not for the length of their necks, he never would of bought them—both of the turtles had long, narrow necks that were nearly as long as their shells. While he found the length of the turtles' necks odd he did think that they were cool. Both of the turtles that were in the tank were young; they were just a few weeks old and, yes, like his younger brother had been about to say, they did have a happy-look on their faces. Their mouth-structures were set in a smile-like fashion. The two turtles, that were swimming around in the aquatic tank, had cost him a little over eight Australian dollars. Each. He was near broke now but he was happy with what he had purchased.

"Man, you got five cool pets and I have squat." Lazeer moped. Hazaar looked at him in shock.

"I thought you had some frogs," Hazaar said. With his younger brother bringing this thing and that thing into the house for his frog hobby, he had figured that he had a frog or two already. "Didn't you bring something home a week and a half ago? After the rains slowed up?"

"Hell no! The book that I bought says that the only _real_ tree frog species in Germany is tiny—barely an inch long. I want something bigger than an inch." Lazeer replied. "I went out looking for a Salamander after I bought that book... this country has one, y'know? It's called a Fire Salamander. Well, I haven't found one... I've looked all over for one. I've flipped logs and fallen trees and I've poked around in the leaf litter..."

He could of gone and said _and you shall never find one because they're all hiding from you you little shit_ but he decided against it when he saw how depressed his younger brother was. Here he was, with the animals that he wanted to get, and there was his younger brother, who didn't have any of the animals that he wanted to find and then bring home to be his pets. It had rained on the first few days of the month; he and his brother had managed to get most of the supplies and equipment that they needed for their hobbies but they hadn't been able to go out and get the animals to inhabit their cages because of the rain. After a four-day heavy rain, the rains had slowed to a slow drizzle. Lazeer went out with one of them plastic containers, that had once contained lunch meat, on the day of the slow drizzle's beginning; he had said that he was going to start looking for a frog or something that was an Amphibian to bring home. When his brother came home with the container, he had thought that his search was successful and yet, here he was, hearing that his younger brother's searches were for nothing. Was there any point in him being mean? In him pointing out that he had the animals that he went out to find and then purchase while his brother had found nothing and had none of the animals that he wanted to have as pets in the cage or cages that he had in his room? That was a no—there were times when it was okay to be mean and there were times when it was not okay to be mean; this was the latter.

"Have any money on you?" Hazaar asked.

"Yeah—a five euro note." Lazeer replied. "Why?"

"Ask mom for permission to go to China," Hazaar suggested. "Or to some other country that's still under the shields that mom put up."

"What's the point?" Lazeer asked as he stood up from his crouched position. "Does China have frogs or salamanders?"

"Last I read, they have over two hundred species of amphibians." Hazaar said. His brother suddenly went from being in a glum mood to excited.

"D-do you think mom will let me?"

"Ask her. Just don't do what I did when I went to get the Spiny Turtles. I was grounded for a week for not asking her for permission to go to a different country, remember?"

"Okay and, yeah, I remember." Lazeer said. He turned then walked out of his brother's room.

Even before he walked into the room that she was in, she knew that he was looking for her and that he was going to ask her some type of question. That motherly intuition thing was happening—the thing that told her when to expect one of her children to come rushing up to her; whether to ask a question or to just plain say hello or to bug her batty or to gain some sort of comfort over what had just happened to him. The intuition, a perfectly natural instinct, which was also quite helpful, always warned her before her offspring showed up. At the moment, she had a little something else to worry about so she put the instinctive feeling that told her to expect one of her sons to rush up to her to the side. She had a tube of Calamine lotion, which had just been opened, in her hand; the lotion was used as an anti-itching agent to treat conditions such as sunburn, rashes, poison ivy, insect bites and stings, and Chickenpox and it just so happened that the tube that she had in her hand was about to be used for the latter condition.

All of her biological sons were given the vaccine against Chickenpox but, instead of the vaccine doing anything to prevent the virus from being contracted, it had actually been the cause of their getting it. The vaccine, which was made of a supposedly killed form of the virus, had actually contained a living virus, which went dormant in her biological sons for a few hundred years. Bile and Lhaklar, even after getting a double dose of a highly evolved vaccine of the virus, had gotten the Pox when they were both three hundred and four years of age. They were both agitated over the itchiness; she and Tazir had done all that they could to ease their symptoms. Her two, older sons had the Pox for a week and a half before the bumps, the rash, and the itchiness went away. Tazir gave them the Shingles—or the Codiliday, as he called it—vaccine afterwards, so they wouldn't get the dormant virus that hid in their nerve tissues. Hazaar had gotten the Chickenpox when he was four hundred and twelve years of age; he was especially moody—along with doing the constant scratching thing, he had driven both himself and her crazy. Lazeer had gotten a mild form of the virus when he was two hundred and three years old; the rash, the bumps, and the itchiness that happened after the rash and the bumps showed up wasn't as bad with him as it was when his older brothers had the virus. The fever that was associated with the virus was the thing that gave him, and her, grief.

It angered her to know that one of her five sons had been completely neglected of getting his vaccinations. Although it hadn't really been a surprise to her that Guyunis wasn't given any of the necessary vaccinations when he was a baby, she had still been angry when she found out that none of the people that had him as their adopted child before she adopted him had taken him to a doctor to be vaccinated for any of the illnesses that could well hurt him later on in life.

The dark red bumps, that formed on her adopted son's pelvic region, had scared Guyunis almost half to death—he had never seen anything like that form on his body before and no one had ever told him about the symptoms of the Chickenpox virus. He had used the communicator, that she had purchased for him earlier that month, in a near panic—with his being so badly spooked, he had been near to tears. His panic had also spurred him into asking her if he should call a hospital. She had told him that she was coming home to take him to see a doctor; her adopted son was told to just sit tight in his room until she got there—he was obedient in doing that.

The doctor that she took him to see had to make up a medical file for him; before being allowed to see the man, she was required to fill out a bunch of forms on his and his family's medical history. The doctor had seen him after them forms were filled out and then returned to the receptionist. The doctor, a tall European man, who had short, brown hair, that was graying on the sides, and blue eyes, had examined Guyunis then had taken her to the side for a quick, and short, chat. The doctor, a Mr. Gustav Jöllenbeck, had told her that her adopted son had two other instances in the medical files from where he was seen by a doctor—for a bladder and genital infection... one of which was so severe that the presiding doctor had come close to sending him to the hospital. Those two medical histories weren't included in the adoption records that she had on her son; she had asked for a copy of them two medical checks after hearing about them. The doctor had complied with her wish with no lip or questions asked. Guyunis was prescribed the Calamine lotion after them two records were handed over; Guyunis, the doc had said, was to be kept rested and comfortable. She was trying to do both; Guyunis, for all of a week, had been kept on strict bed rest. Except for the occasional trip the bathroom, he was to stay in bed.

"When can I g-k-et out of bed, mum?" Guyunis asked. This was a daily question of his.

"When you're all better." Angel replied.

"Muuuuum!" Guyunis started to fret.

"Won't be much longer," Angel said. She squeezed a little bit of the lotion into the palm of her hand then she started to smooth it over Guyunis's chest. "A few days more; the rash and bumps are starting to go away, and your fever is dropping."

"You said tha-k-t yesterday!" Guyunis exclaimed.

Nearly a month ago, after he was bullied by some of the neighborhood kids, a small change was exhibited—no desire in leaving the house was shown; she had found herself as having to be gently firm on the subject of his leaving the house several times after the first of the month rolled by. While she was at work, her biological sons were out of the house; they went out to do things with their time while Guyunis did nothing but stay upstairs, in his room, with his kitten. Along with tending his kitten, he did his models and read some of his magazines and books; the bullying had also done something to his confidence levels. Her adopted son had started walking around the house with his hoodie up; a relapse had happened where he had started thinking himself as being hideous and ugly.

Nothing was said during the first week of his staying inside the house; when the second week of the month rolled in, she had started being firm with him on leaving the house. He went out with Bile or Lhaklar at first for the first two days then he went out on his own; his monthly magazines were bought, and so were a few things for his kitten. The Pox claimed him three days later. Naturally, since he didn't know that Chickenpox couldn't be caught from the cold, he had thought that he had caught the virus by going out when it was in the low-sixties. Both she and Dr. Jöllenbeck had explained the reason behind his contraction of the virus—he had either gotten it from the air or from someone who had the virus. Someone who had the virus had either sneezed or coughed near him and he had, unknowingly, breathed it in or he had touched something that someone who had the virus had touched. One of the many things that he had purchased for his kitten might of had the virus on it or the one of magazines that he had purchased had the virus on it. While on the drive home after seeing the doctor, he had asked if she could clean each of the items that he had gotten for his kitten. She had done so.

Despite the fact that he hadn't gone out to get her any enrichment items, his kitten was pretty well set to go. Sabine, who was now six weeks and six days old, had a litter box, which had a good layer of fresh-scenting cat litter in it, and she also had a faux suede hooded cat bed, that had a soft interior. Guyunis had also bought her a food and water bowl, a collar, and several cat tickle wands. She had personally bought her son's cat some kitten food, a few bags of cat treats, a scratching post, which also acted as a cat tree, and one of those toys that had a long spring sprouting out of a teeter-totter type block. The long spring that was on the teeter-totter type block had a toy attached to it that had a bell inside it; her son's kitten was rather fond of all of her toys and her son appreciated her generosity in going out of her way to purchase things for his pet. Her adopted son was taking very excellent care of his kitten and his kitten was rather attached to him; whenever she went to check on her sons after they went to bed for the night, she'd sometimes find the kitten all curled up on Guyunis's bed. Near his head.

"I hate being-k here." Guyunis said. Angel blinked her eyes in surprise.

"You hate being where, G?" Angel asked. "In the house... with us?"

"No," Guyunis replied quickly. He pointed at the floor of his room. "I hate being-k in here."

"Be a little more patient, it'll only be a few more days before you can get out of bed." Angel said. She screwed the cap on the Calamine lotion tube loosely then she gave it to her son. "Your chest, shoulders, and stomach are nearly clear of the rash and bumps. Your back is fully clear now. You can do the rest."

"I hate being-k sick!" Guyunis said fiercely as he took the tube of lotion from her. "Never have liked it!"

"No one ever does like getting sick, G." Angel said. She bent over, gave her son a kiss on the forehead, then stood up straight. "If you need or want anything, shout for me. I'll be up here in three shakes of a lambs tail, okay. I love you."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you love me?"

"Because I'm your mother," Angel replied. Guyunis's frustrated face softened up with her words.

The kitten, she saw, was just climbing out from under her son's bed. She went to pick her up; the kitten was placed on her son's bed a second later. It seemed strange that, nearly a month ago, she had thought that the kitten was fully black. She had only seen part of the little creature's dark nose so the idea of the cat being a fully black one had been an easy mistake to make.

Sabine was in no way, shape, or form a black cat; she didn't how someone was able to just up and leave a kitten that was as beautiful as the one that Guyunis had found but, whoever it was, had been one hell of an idiot. The kitten had a very unique, calico colored coat; she had a small, white circle in the center of her chest and she had white toes but the rest of her was orange-brown and black. Her face was bi-colored; with the left side being an orange-brown color and the right being black. There were tabby stripes on the orange-brown portion of the kitten's face and, curiously, the kitten had different colored eyes; the kitten's left eye was blue while her right eye was green. She had a feeling that the kitten was a rare one—an animal that demonstrated the rare condition or disorder called Chimerism, which happened after two embryos or fertilized eggs fused together while being in-utero. Sabine had probably absorbed one of her deceased siblings when they were still in the womb.

After placing the kitten on the bed, Angel turned then left the room. She had no more closed the door before feeling her shoulder being tapped.

"Mom, can I go out?" Lazeer asked his mother the second she turned to face him. Angel blinked her eyes for the second time in less than five minutes then placed her hand flat across her son's forehead—to feel if he had a temperature.

"You feeling okay, Lazie?" Angel asked her son. "It's only noon. It's not raining outside and you're asking me if you can go out."

"I feel fine, mom." Lazeer replied. "I was wondering if I could get your permission to go to China or some other country."

"What for?"

"To find some frogs or a salamander or something for the two cages that I have in my room."

"Don't you already have a frog?"

"No, Germany only has the tiny frogs. The inch-long ones, mom." Lazeer replied. "I've also looked around for a salamander. I can't find one. I was wondering—"

"—if you could get my permission to go scouring another country to find some amphibians to capture and then bring home?" Angel finished for her son.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh." Lazeer nodded his head.

Angel sighed; it had rained a lot that month and her sons, minus Guyunis, who was stricken with chickenpox on the nineteenth, and minus Hazaar, who was grounded last week, had only been allowed to go out about three or four days of each week. It was sunny, with a slight chance of rain only during the nighttime hours, for the last three days; her biological had gone out on them three days. Here it was, September the 25th; it was bright and sunny outside, and, yet, two of her four biological sons were sticking around in the house. While she thought this as abnormal, she figured that Hazaar was just sticking around to gaze at the turtles that he had in his room. She figured that Lazeer had stuck around to take a look at the turtles and, possibly, to speak to his older brother about the fauna that was in the other countries around them.

She owed Hazaar her thanks for Lazeer's little frog-keeping hobby; after she gave his brother permission to keep the Spiny softshell turtle, that he caught one day, when he was a young child, when they were living in Canada, Lazeer had grown an interest in frogs and in keeping frogs as pets. His interest in salamanders was new; salamander's were a different type of amphibian... She didn't think he'd have much luck on keeping a salamander—but she wasn't going to tell him that. She figured that if he had a want and a need in wanting to try to keep a salamander as a pet, then she shouldn't get in the way... as long as the animal stayed in its enclosure, that was. Now, if she found any salamanders—or frogs, for that matter—running amok in the laundry, or crawling about on the carpets that were in the house, or on the walls, she'd be making sure that they were sent out with a suitcase. She had made a point in telling her young turtle and frog and salamander-keeping sons that after they started bringing stuff home for their hobbies.

"Where do you wish to go?" Angel asked.

"China or Vietnam or, you know, somewhere in Asia where there are frogs and salamanders a-plenty." Lazeer replied.

"Taking any money with you to get them, or are you catching from the wild?" Angel asked.

"The wild—cheaper, mom."

"True," Angel thought. "Honey, I'm not so sure a salamander is a good pet for you. They have poisons in their skin that can be harmful to you."

"I'll wear gloves, mom. I'll take a pair of the latex gloves, that are in the box, that's under the kitchen sink, with me." Lazeer said.

"You have a cage for a salamander? Do you know how to take care of a salamander?"

"Yes. The one's that I'm looking for are semi-aquatic. They like the land and the water." Lazeer replied.

"And, naturally, if I say no, you're going to bug my crazy." Angel sighed.

"No I won't." Lazeer crossed his heart.

"Curfew's seven o'clock, you remember that." Angel said. "Take one of your brothers with you. Where's Bile and Lhaklar?"

"Out—they left right after finishing their breakfasts." Lazeer said. "I don't know where they went or where they are... Hazaar is here, though."

"Take him with you. I want both of you to have your communicators on you." Angel said. She then started to walk down the hallway. "I'll check in on you two every hour so you two make sure to have them communicators on you. There'll be trouble if I catch one or the other of you without them, hear me?"

"Crystal, mommy!" Lazeer said happily. Angel found herself being engulfed in one of them tightly given hugs a second later.

After thanking his mother for the permission that she had just given him in going to another country, Lazeer ran by her then went downstairs. He ran into the dining room then, after sliding to a stop, he went to the kitchen; the box of latex gloves, that he was pulling out from the cabinet that was under the sink, was newly purchased. His mother had gotten it the day before. While they were for cleaning purposes, he had better ideas on what they could be used for. Last night, before supper, he grabbed one of the gloves. It was blown up and then placed on the seat of the chair that Bile usually sat on to eat his meals. Bile had no more sat in his chair before getting up again; he had laughed himself silly—his brother hadn't even bothered to look if there was anything that shouldn't be on his chair! Their mother had gasped loudly; Lhaklar had looked about to keel over from a heart attack; and he had just laughed away. Guyunis and Hazaar were the only ones to not laugh at his little prank—they were upstairs at the time.

Lazeer grabbed two pairs of the rubber, latex gloves—one for him and one for Hazaar, should he choose to help him or look around for some other animal while he was looking for a frog or salamander—, then he grabbed three plastic containers from one of the kitchen cabinets. After grabbing them things, he went back upstairs. He ran into his room a few seconds later; his goggled glass, which was left out, in the open, on his dresser, was grabbed. He grabbed his communicator—a circular device, that was mostly dominated by a big speaker, that had two buttons on its right side—, which was on his night table's surface, then he ran out of his room. After stuffing his communicator into his pants pocket, he placed his goggled glass over his left eye. He was getting the goggled glass's strap adjusted around his head when he walked into Hazaar's room.

"Hey, guess what!"

"Mom gave you permission to go to some other country." Hazaar said in an uninterested way. He was leaned back on his bed; one of his pornographic magazines was in his hands.

"Yeah, she says that I'm to take you with me." Lazeer said. There was a sigh from his brother.

"Yeah, thanks but no thanks." Hazaar said. "Get someone else to babysit you."

"Mom says for me to have one of my brothers come along with me. Since Bile and Lhaklar aren't available, and since Guyunis is sick, that leaves you." Lazeer said.

"I've had enough of country hopping for the month," Hazaar said. A pair of latex gloves suddenly slapped up against the back of his magazine. He dropped the magazine then sat bolt upright on the bed. "Hey! Mom taught you like she taught me on how not throw things at people!"

"Get off your lazy ass, grab your communicator, and let's go." Lazeer said. "Mom says she wants us both to have our communicators on us, no exceptions."

"If I do this, will you leave me the hell alone afterwards?" Hazaar said. He tossed the magazine over onto his night table then he snatched the pair of latex gloves up from the bed. "I can't even read a magazine, and get in a good one, because of your pathetic ass."

"Bring your magazine with you then. Who says that you have to wear them gloves for animal searching?" Lazeer said. "Mom says to bring—"

"I heard you the first time you little shit!" Hazaar snapped. He grabbed the magazine, that he was reading before his brother barged into his room, then he pulled his communicator out from the wall socket that was behind his night table.

As the two youngsters, who were his employer's two, younger sons, were teleporting to another country, that had a forest with a water source running through it, he was having a time with his co-worker. Normally, Homsi would speak a little when they were on assignments together; on this one, particular assignment, the man was very quiet and to himself. He figured that a majority of the reason for his co-worker's quietness was due to his spending less time than usual with his family—Homsi, like himself, was a big family man, and he was big on spending time with his family, but, unlike he, who had problems with his in-laws, and who had nothing out of the ordinary to deal with with his younger offspring in the past few months, Homsi had no problems with his in-laws and he was dealing with a little something that had made him become somewhat of a grump.

Homsi had started acting a little on the grumpy side a month and three weeks ago; after showing up for working looking different. Oh, the man was wearing his usual, and he had acted like himself, and he had also looked the same in the face, but there had still been something off on him that had made him look a little different. It had taken everyone all of an hour to finally figure out what was off about the man—Homsi was a Goblin who, instead of having hair growing out from the top or the back or the sides of his head, had hair growing out from the inside of his elf-like ears. He looked odd but he did take good care of the hair that grew out from his ears; the hair that grew out from his ears was a light gray color and it was usually kept at only three and a half to four inches long. When Homsi showed up lacking that ear-hair, as Mekaia called it, everyone started wondering what was new with the guy—there were a few who asked who the new guy was too. Master Tazir, who wasn't home when Mr. Modulavich walked in lacking his ear-hair, didn't know that his Most Trusted Goblin butler had changed his appearance. Homsi had said nothing on why he was lacking his ear-hair to no one for nearly two weeks... and no one had really had the guts to ask him why he had changed his appearance during them two weeks. After two weeks, one of the maids finally approached him with the question of why he changed his appearance.

Nayleena Jayl, the maid who had the guts to ask Homsi about his sudden change in appearance, had told his daughter, who had told him, what happened for Homsi to suddenly appear at work without his ear-hair. Homsi and his wife had two, twin toddlers that were in their three hundred year ranges; their twins were in that stage where they were picking up and playing with anything that had either been left out in the open or that was in their reach. They were also picking up and saying things that they shouldn't be saying.

From what Homsi told Nayleena, one of the twins had happened on a pair of scissors, that were left out on the kitchen table. Homsi, their old poppa bear, was at home at the time but he wasn't watching them. Instead of keeping his eye on them, he was catching a snooze on the couch—it was a difficult day for him and he was quite tired and in need of a short nap. One of the twins cut all of their father's ear-hair off; Homsi was woke up during the process of his kid's de-hairing him after the tip of his ear was cut in the scissors. The light gray ear-hair, that was usually three and a half to four inches long, had grown back some; while the hair was back to sticking out from its owners ears, and while it had grown to two and a half inches, Homsi still looked somewhat odd. Eldass had a feeling that his co-worker was aware of that oddness.

No one had snickered, made fun of, or played any jokes on Homsi over what happened; Eldass figured that, if the same thing had happened to him, he would of changed into being a sort of quiet and to-himself type of guy too.

"Olok—what is your and your brother's location?" he tapped the message out quickly on his cellular phone then he went back to looking at what was in front of him.

He and Homsi were seated in front of the shield, that was around the town of Au am Rhein—a little town that was in South Germany, that had a small populace of some five hundred individuals in it. The plagues had also struck hard in Europe and Eurasia; he and Homsi had happened on several deserted towns and cities and several towns and cities that had low population counts. The city of Karlsruhe, which was some miles up north of their location, had a population of over ten thousand in it; a far cry from what it had over three hundred years ago. Au am Rhein was near other low-population towns—Durmersheim led the town-population levels in the area; there were just over three thousand humans living in that town, while Bietigheim had a little over six hundred and Steinmauern had a little under two hundred humans living in it. Another town nearby, Elchesheim-Illingen, had a population of just under four hundred in it. All of these towns had once had a population count of over five thousand; the last plague had really plunged the human race down in numbers. The reason why he and Homsi weren't searching the town and were, instead, sitting in front of the shield that was around of the town was because of the being that they had decided to watch and take notes on. One of their employer's nephew's employees had been pretty interested in this area, and in the neighboring Elchesheim-Illingen, Durmersheim, and Karlsruhe areas, for the past few days and they wanted to know why.

The location that the Claydo had picked to stand near was a weird one. Neither he nor Homsi could figure out why the man had decided to stand near the dump that was in Au am Rheim. The air was ripe; it stunk something awful; and there were black and dark gray clouds drifting up from numerous areas in the dump, that only the Gods knew what contained. There were heaps of trash and debris all over the dump grounds; there were broken board piles and piles of discarded items that looked not worthy enough to be sitting around in an old, smelly dump; and there were several small trails of brackish water that flowed out of the shield into the river that raged behind them. He and Homsi had wisely brought cans of bug spray and lotions with them the past two days to ward off the multitude of insects that were flying about outside of the shield. The small gun that he had on him was only to be used to ward off any of the area's animals that decided to come into the area, looking for an easy or quick meal; the purpose of the large bowie knife, that Homsi had on him, was also the same.

"E. Zultoa—in China at the moment." the reply message from Olok Gzujus said. "Yunnan, to be specific. Mountainous area. Very forested. Very wet and insect-loaded. Cannot see how anyone can live here."

"Better there than here," Eldass thought. "Least you two have clean air to breathe in; Homsi and I will probably be sucking on an air tube in a few hours."

Neither he nor Homsi had put much thought into the area that they had blindly agreed to search; since that foul Master Vile had control of the Americas, they had decided to not search them two continents for Mistress Angel and her sons—their employer had asked for them to check the shielded parts of Earth for his wife and sons and that was what they had decided and then planned to do. That decision and plan had not been a good one—if they had known how large the still-shielded and protected areas of Earth were, they would of asked for some help right off the bat.

There was over one million square feet of space that they had blindly said they'd check. There was Europe and Eurasia and Africa and the island nations and... oh shit, there was even India and Australia! All of them areas still had their employer's wife's shields over them; Master Vile's servant could of been in any one of them areas when he saw and then photographed their employer's sons. They called their employer the second they noticed what they had gotten themselves into. The vastness of the area that was still under the shields was too much for just the two of them to search, they had said; they had asked if he could get a few others to come to Earth to assist in the search—the man had graciously said that he would.

Olok Gzujus and his twin brother, Ulok, along with several of their other co-workers, were sent to Earth. He and Homsi had started their search in England and Britain on the 18th of September; they had also searched parts of France and Spain. Four days ago, Homsi had decided to drop the area that they were slated to search; his decision was based on something that he had noticed in one of the photographs that Master Vile's servant had taken.

While Homsi was with Mrs. Ubalki on the day of the photographs' discovery, he hadn't seen them. Mrs. Ubalki and her husband had looked through them more than once; Homsi had been too preoccupied with looking after their emplyer's mother to worry or even think about the photographs. Homsi had asked their employer for copies of the photographs four days ago; their employer had been all too willing to make copies of the photographs and then send them over—since Homsi was on Earth at the time, the 'graphs were sent to him via a spell. For four nights in a row, Homsi had practically been doubled over them. He went over them with his naked eye then he went over them with a magnifying glass; when he switched the magnification of the magnifying glass, he had noticed a small, and barely readable, word in one of the photographs that the older of their employer's biological sons was in.

His co-worker had checked his discovery over with the magnifying glass more than once before blowing the photograph up to see the word better. The humans that lived in the country of Germany spoke the Ghungmur language pretty well and they sometimes put certain Ghungmur words up on their buildings' windows and signs; the word that Homsi had noticed was a simple one... Why one of the humans had put the word Hastig—which meant hasty—on some of the windows of their buildings was beyond both of them, and why Young Master Lhaklar was going into a building that had the word Hastig on its windows was a mystery to them. The word that Homsi discovered four days ago had given him a clue as to where their employer's missing family could be so, instead of going to the little island of Crete, as they had planned to four days ago, they had gone to Germany. The Claydo was seen on day two of their scouting the country out.

Seeing the Claydo's mysterious activities of standing and taking notes in this part of the country was just as mysterious as the photograph that depicted Young Master Lhaklar going into the building that had the word Hastig on its windows.

"He just took a photograph of something." Homsi said. Eldass looked up from his cellular phone quickly; the brown-furred Claydo, who was wearing a red imperial outfit, and brown, gladiator-like sandals, and who was standing nearly fifty feet from them, was lowering what looked to be a camera of some sort.

"Did you see what he photographed?" Eldass asked.

"No, thought I did for a second. Whatever it was that he photographed ducked out of view quick. Wasn't able to get a good view of what it was." Homsi replied. He then added, "I think it was he who took the photographs of the Young Masters."

"Looks too prepared to not be the guy who did so." Eldass said. "Who walks around with a notepad, a pen or pencil, and a camera and who hangs around dumps for no reason?"

"Someone looking for trouble or someone who knows something." Homsi replied. He then started to move off from behind the bushes that he and Eldass were sitting behind. "Hang tight here, I'm heading in to see what he decided to snap a photograph of."

"Make sure to use your camera if it's one of the Young Masters." Eldass said as his co-worker walked off.


	16. Chapter 16

The dump that was situated on one of the hills, that was located in the municipality of Au am Rhein, was a small one by "dump standards". It had a reach of maybe half a mile in either direction and it had several thin channels dug in and around it that chemicals and waste-water flowed through freely. The dump was only half-organized; it would give dump-junk collectors, sifters, and treasure hunters a mild headache, but that didn't mean that anyone that came to the dump had to throw all precaution in what he or she picked up to the side. Some of the boards that were in the board pile, that was near the dump's entrance, still had nails, screws, and other hardware in them. The appliances that were scattered around, that were in this pile or that pile, or that were lying on one of their sides away from one of the piles that were in the area, had rust on them; some of the appliances had oil or chemicals on them while others were just plain dirty. There was a washing machine nearby that was taken halfway apart. The washing machine's bolts, screws, belts, pumps, inner and outer tubs, and connections were scattered on the ground around the machine—one would have to be careful to not get cut on one of them strewn pieces.

A refrigerator, sans its door, was leaning against one of the nearby piles of junk. The inside of the refrigerator was rusty and wet-looking. There was some sort of caked-on food on the shelves; while he was curious about the appliance, he was trying his best to stay away from it—who knew what kind of bacteria or diseases were on the thing! There were cans lying all around on the ground; someone who either had a real gun or a BB gun or a slingshot could use them as targets. Since he had magical powers, he could use the cans as targets; he could shoot one of his powers at the cans—either a ray of energy or a beam of fire or he could make the cans fly up into the air after he shot a gust of air at them.

There were some tables, that were either missing a leg or two, or that had a broken leg or two, about twenty feet to his left; someone could easily repair or patch them up, repaint them, and then either set them up in a house or sell them for a good profit. If the tables were beyond repair, they could still be used; one could use the wood from the tables for some sort of project or something. To his right, about thirty feet from him, were some couches and chairs; some looked to be in near-perfect condition. They could be cleaned and then either given a home or sold. Just before him, all rolled up, were some rugs that had all sorts of wild or beautiful designs on them; they could easily be put to use in someone's house or, again, sold for a profit.

He had come to the dump right after finishing his breakfast; he hadn't come here to practice his powers, though. He had made the trip to find stuff that he could bring back home, clean up, and then either give to his family or keep until he sold. At the moment, he had a small pile of stuff behind him that he had plans to take home; all of what he had found was better than decent or good. He was sure that his mother and younger brothers would like all of what he had found that morning.

There was a small, brass turtle clock, that had a hinge on its shell, in the pile behind him. The clock that was under the hinged shell had roman numerals on it; he was surprised when he found that piece. The tosser of the clock had obviously been lazy—the face of the clock was cracked in two places and the hinge that was on the back of the piece needed to be replaced; he was confident that he could fix it. Since one of his younger brothers had a thing for turtles, and since one of his younger brothers had gone out and gotten a few turtles as pets a week ago, he was sure that the turtle clock would be appreciated. Lazeer liked boats; he had found him a model of a Chinese Junk Pirate boat—that had obviously been thrown out after being completed. He had also found his youngest brother a nickel-silver rowing boat model, that had a stainless steel armature oarsman in it, as well. Both of them items were in pristine condition; all he had to do was clean them before handing them over to Lazeer. There were two car models in the pile behind him as well; both were for Lhaklar, who liked classic cars. One of the models was a Jaguar X150 DHC while the other was a 1935 Duesenberg SSJ.

Why a human would toss a perfectly fine leather jacket was beyond him; just five minutes ago, he came upon five men's leather jackets—all were in great shape. Again, he just had to clean them. There was a dark brown, a dark red, two black, and there was also a normal brown leather jacket, that had tassels hanging down from the shoulders, in the small pile behind him. He was quite happy with that discovery; he and his brothers would be jacket-wearing in style come time for winter. He had several things for his mother in the small pile behind him as well; a rich brown, leather designer handbag for starters, along with a tan leather coin purse, and one of them German-made, German-silver mesh purses. Humans threw out anything; when he was living in both Canada and the United States, he had been surprised at what all they tossed in the trash. It was no different here in Germany. The knee-high, black dress, that had tassels hanging from around the low-hanging neck, was another surprise find for him; he was sure that his mother would love that and he was also sure she'd like the low-heel, black satin evening shoes that he had also found for her. He had a lot to take home with him... A lot to keep him busy for the next few days. He had also found some stuff for Guyunis, who was currently sick and stuck in bed.

"Bile, yo, Bile!"

The board that he was holding didn't really drop from his hand; it slipped before he could get a good grip on it. He had nearly forgotten about the kid that he had met after arriving at the dump; he was a local of the town that the dump was in. He was nineteen years old; he seemed okay, maybe a little slow upstairs, but okay. Bile turned around quickly. He made the pile of stuff that he had found while "junk checking"—as Lhaklar called it—disappear from where it was. All of the things that he had found were relocated to the room that was under his and his family's backyard—the one that he and his brothers had made a month ago.

"Slow up there, Angus." Bile said when the Au am Rhein local ran into view. The kid, Angus was his name, had brown hair; he had a long face from which a pair of blue eyes were in. The kid was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a black tank top, that was made specifically for one of the male gender, and black shoes. "There's no stretcher in this place for me to carry you on after you hurt yourself."

"This might interest you," Angus said after reaching Bile. He held out a poster, that was twelve inches wide by twelve inches long. "Found it by the old man's tractor."

And, by his saying "the old man", Bile knew that the kid had stolen something from one of the dump's caretakers. Upon his arrival, there were two caretakers walking about or working the dump's machinery; one of the humans was mid-aged—he couldn't be the "old man" that Angus had gotten the poster from. The other caretaker had looked to be in his mid-sixties; he was driving a tractor, pushing small piles of junk from one place to another. The poster that Angus was showing him had probably come from that caretaker. When he looked at the poster that was being shown to him, he nearly started laughing; the poster wasn't really a poster—it was one of them cartoons that were either put on the second to last or the last page of newspapers. The cartoon wasn't any old cartoon; it was a hilarious representation of his father—or, pardon, Dark Dad.

The human behind the cartoon had drawn his father wearing a dress; his father's cartoon-face had badly put-on makeup on it. The lipstick that was on the man's lips was smudged, as was the eye-shadow that was on his eyelids and that was over his eyes. The mascara that was under his father's eyes was running; the blush that was on his cheeks was either too bright in places or was very badly smudged. The snake that was coiled around one of his father's legs looked rather bored. The caption that was above the cartoon said _When "Evil" experiences the rag everything goes to shit;_ he found the caption just as hilarious as the cartoon-representation of his father.

The cartoon was in reference to what his father did two weeks ago; Dark Dad had decided to try to get Europe, Eurasia, and the island nations to surrender to his rule by cutting all trade traffic from the island nations to mainland Europe and Eurasia. He created a high-powered blue energy beam between the island nations and mainland Europe and Eurasia overnight, after most of the trading vessels had returned to port; in the American papers, he was quoted as saying "Europe, Eurasia, and the island nations will bow down and admit defeat to me by way of economic troubles spurred by no trade commerce". Everyone in the island nations and in Europe and Eurasia had laughed—his father obviously didn't know about the underwater tunnels; trade between the European, Eurasian, and the island nations could continue happening thanks to them underwater tunnels that his ma had made a little over a thousand years ago. His father's little attempt to "economically starve and cripple" Europe, Eurasia, and the island nations was for nothing.

According to the American newspapers, his father had watched sea-faring trade traffic go back and forth between the island nations and Europe and Eurasia for weeks before making his decision to make a move in trying to cripple the islands nations, Europe, and Eurasia. Five boats were taken captive after his energy beam was put up; Dark Dad's troops had taken an estimated fifty to sixty people captive. The boats that were seized were set a-blaze after everyone that was on-board was removed. On estimate, over ten thousand dollars in medical supplies, clothing, and food was destroyed.

"They should of made the caption say something on him having a mid-life crisis." Bile said.

"That's what I was thinking when I saw it!" Angus said. "My dat says that he has two other kids, is that true?"

"Yeah. Besides me and my ma, there's two others." Bile replied.

"They evil too, or are they like you and your mum?"

"They're evil," Bile replied. "One thinks she's all that and a bag of chips, when she's not. The other's a doofus."

"Ha! Evil makes a dumb child. That's a hoot!" Angus laughed. He then changed the subject. "Your mum into dolls?"

"Dolls?"

"Yeah, there's a pile behind me that has all sorts of dolls in it." Angus said. He turned around then started to walk off. "Come on—they're good dolls. Think some of them are made of that porcelain-stuff."

Other than the typical accepting of what all he and his brothers either found or bought for her, his mother had never really shown an interest in collecting anything. He doubted if she had an interest in dolls—whether of the plush or porcelain variety. Due to his being of the male gender, he knew very little about porcelain dolls. What he knew on the subject was basic: they were made of a porcelain material, that was rather fragile; they were highly collectible and valuable; and they also broke very easily. Most of the time, porcelain dolls collected dust on some bookcase, or mantle, or were put in a box that'd be stored in one's attic. He also knew that mother's sometimes gave their virgin daughters a porcelain doll that was wearing all white.

Bile followed the kid over a hill then around three piles of stuff that smelled right bad; the far right side of the Au am Rhein dump didn't smell as bad as the rest of the dump did and the pickings were better—that was why he had picked that side of the dump to spend some time in. Angus was leading him towards the center of the dump; where massive piles of junk stood ready for the tractors to come in to get them ready for burning, and where there were little streams of brackish water, that had clumps of unimaginable gunk on their banks. It seemed like forever before the kid stopped. Bile was sure that his mother would be complaining when he went home about the smell that he had on him. The odor was strong, it was disgusting, and he didn't much like it. The air was thick with the smell and the ground underfoot was sticky and damp; his brown boots sank into the mud with each step that he took.

"Pee-yew! Man, why the hell did you lead me this far again?" Bile said. He was struggling to not hold his nose.

"Because of the dolls." Angus replied.

"When I go home, my ma's not going to let me come into the house! She's going to insist that I take a quick shower with the water hose before coming in then she's going to insist that I take a _real_ shower after I come in." Bile said.

"Don't think of the smell; just search the heaps and be happy." Angus said. He then added, "My mum'll prob'ly insist that I do the same thing before coming in."

There were three small piles of junk in front of them—one that had broken pieces of furniture in it; another that consisted of trash and items that had broken glass in or on them; the pile that was farthest from them consisted of nothing but dolls, that were wearing fancy dresses or outfits. Bile walked over to the pile that had the dolls in it quickly. He struggled to not pinch his nose or puke as he started to search through the pile.

Again, he found himself amazed with what a human would throw out. There were several different types of dolls in the pile; some that were made out of porcelain, some that were made out of wood, and a few that were made out of a plastic-like material. There was a small handful of plush-made dolls in the pile too; the plastic-like dolls and the plush dolls were drastically out-numbered by the porcelain and wooden dolls, though. A majority of the dolls that were in the pile were in pretty good shape; some of them just needed to have their hair brushed or have their bodies or clothes cleaned.

If his mother didn't want the dolls, or showed no interest in the dolls, he could still take them home, clean them up, then take them to a pawn shop or to some other place that sold old, antique items; he thought as he sifted through the doll-pile. Each of the dolls that he found, picked up, and then put to the side looked rather antique and expensive. The first doll that he picked up had a Victorian look to it; it had brown hair and eyes, and it was wearing a Victorian dress. The doll just needed its hair washed. The second doll that he picked up had blonde hair and blue eyes; it was wearing a blue dress. An umbrella was attached to one of its hands; the dress of the doll had a few tears in it that he could fix up. The third doll that he picked up had black hair and eyes; it was wearing a yellow dress. There was nothing wrong with that doll—it looked like it had just been taken out of the box!

He put all of those to the side then he dug into the pile deeper; he added several other dolls to his personal sash soon after taking the plunge. The fourth doll that he picked up was a Native American representation; it was wearing a very elaborate, brown and blue colored, Native American dress. That doll looked very expensive. Since it was so mint-in-condition, he believed that it was taken from its box and then discarded. A China porcelain doll, that was wearing a Chinese dress, was the fifth doll that he picked up; it just needed its hair and face washed. The sixth doll that he picked up was a Gypsy belly dancer representation; it was wearing a very elaborate belly dancer outfit. Like the Native American doll, it was in pristine condition. A naked porcelain doll, that had orange hair and blue eyes, was placed on the pile next; that doll had blue, purple, and red tattoos painted on its parts to obscure its nakedness. The last thing that he found in the pile he decided he was going to keep for himself—it was an outrageous, Rabbit-monster thing that had bugged out, yellow and white eyes, and big, yellow teeth.

"Ma really _won't_ let me come in before using the water hose _now_ ," Bile said after looking at his hands and upper arms, which were rather grimy. "That should do it. If my ma doesn't like any of the dolls, I can still clean them up—I'll sell them afterwards."

"No shit man," Angus said. He slapped Bile on the shoulder then started to walk off. "If we're done here, let's go find a shed to smoke in."

"My ma said not to follow strangers into sheds." Bile said. "What kind of smoke you got on you?"

"Panama Red," Angus said. "Rare stuff. _Super_ rare and _really_ good."

With his being a weed smoker, he knew well what Panama Red was. He had smoked it only twice; he had gotten a good high on both smokings. From just taking two puffs from a joint, that had Panama Red in it, he had gone from being his old, normal self into being a rather loopy and peaceful being that had no care in the world. Panama Red wasn't only rare now, it was damn expensive! He had spent nearly $300 just to get enough for one joint on the two times that he had smoked the stuff. Bile did a spell to send the dolls that he had found in the trash pile home then he followed Angus, who was walking away from the dump's center, at the same time that his two, younger brothers were starting to get on each other's nerves.

In order to get Hazaar to come with him to the Dulongjiang river, a river that was located in the heavily forested part of Yunnan, China, he had to put in a minor bug and plead session with him. Hazaar had wanted to go to a less forested area but, after he started his bug-and-plead routine on him, he had relented just to shut him up. He had started the process of looking for some amphibians right after appearing in the location; while Hazaar did nothing but stand around, he was flipping rocks or lifting or looking under tree limbs. About five minutes after they arrived in the area, Hazaar went off to find a place to sit; the magazine that he brought with him was opened after he found a decent-sized rock to sit on.

About twenty minutes in on their stay in the area, they started getting on each other's nerves.

"Why the hell are you looking for a salamander anyways?" Hazaar said from the rock that he was sitting on. "You won't take care of it. It'll be dead within a week's time."

"Will not—salamander's are like frogs in a lot of ways; they have similar environmental habitats." Lazeer said. He was twenty feet from his brother.

"Frogs are land-based animals you idiot." Hazaar sniffed. "Salamanders are water-based animals."

"Not all of them," Lazeer said. "Some species of salamanders like both—"

"Whatever, just don't go crying when the animals die on you." Hazaar said.

They were in a rather hot and humid, tropical area; the trees that were around them, and that were on the other side of the river, were big. Most of them had vines twisting around their trunks. The soil was very wet; Lazeer had nearly lost one of his shoes after stepping into a particularly wet patch of soil. Twice. There were all sorts of insects flying about; in the time that they were in the area, he had caught his brother swatting at the insects with both his hand and the pornographic magazine that he had. In the twenty minutes that he had been in the area, he had flipped between fifteen to twenty rocks over; he had found a few animals hiding under the rocks—none that he was looking for, though. So far, he had seen two, ugly brown frogs; a black newt, that had a rather pretty red stripe going down the underside of its tail; and a red-brown frog, that had a red stripe going down its back. So far, he hadn't seen any snakes. He was on the look-out for any that could be nearby and he was also being careful of not reaching for anything that he saw without double-checking to see if the thing that he had seen or that had interested him didn't have a predator coiled up near it. He had very nearly decided on picking the black newt, that had the red stripe on the underside of its tail, up and then putting it in one of the containers that were tied to his waist but, at the last second, he had decided against it. He was looking for an animal that was over six inches long—the newt that he had uncovered had only been four inches long. It had looked full-grown, too.

"Plenty of things to do back home; sit and read a magazine or two, watch my turtles as they walk or swim around in their environments, watch some tv, or listen to some music, and yet here I am..." Lazeer heard his older brother say. "babysitting my younger brother, who is old enough to go out on his own."

He shook his head. It was only typical that his brother's temper switches would be flipped after he saw his precious turtles. Hazaar had always been a bit of a hot-head but, as of the past hundred or so years, his hot-headedness had increased. He was in-deep with the Temperamental phase that he was going through. It seemed strange... he was going through that same phase as well, but his overall temperament hadn't changed much, though. He was moodier than usual; he was embarrassed by the increase in emotions that he was experiencing because of the phase that he was going through; and he was getting into more fights with his brothers than he usually did, but his temperament hadn't changed much. A few weeks ago, before Guyunis came down with the Chickenpox, he had asked him what he was like when he went through the Temperamental phase. Instead of answering his question, Guyunis had just looked at his plate of steak, green beans, and potatoes. Their mother had taken Guyunis to the side after supper to ask him what was wrong and why he hadn't answered his question; after thinking it over for a minute or two, Guyunis had told her what happened when he went through the phase.

According to what his mother had told him a little later on, after she and Guyunis had talked, Guyunis had started experiencing the Temperamental phase about two hundred and eighty-four years ago, when he was one thousand, six hundred, and seventeen years old. Guyunis was the ward of Mandy and Lukas Meyer at the time of his entering The Phase; the couple had inherited him after their parents, Lulu and Randolf Meyer, passed away. When he went into The Phase, he was super angry and super destructive; Mandy and her husband had dealt with that by beating him with a metal pipe and a length of chain. Their son, Bruno Meyer, and his wife, Petra, had done the same thing seventy years later, after they inherited him, then their son, Dieter, and his wife, Elke, did something similar forty-seven years later, after Bruno and Petra died.

Lazeer couldn't believe how mean the Meyer family was to his adoptive brother; they had beat him for his experiencing the Temperamental phase, they had beat him after they either heard about or seen him using his powers, and they had also forced him to do all of the house chores so they wouldn't have to do them. He wasn't a bit surprised that, after his adoptive brother relayed all of this to their mother, he had started to cry. Why the Meyer family, and all of the other families that his brother was with, had treated Guyunis in the way they had was beyond him; he personally wished that a time machine existed somewhere. He'd be going back in time to when his brother was abused if such a device did exist. He'd dish out some good, old brotherly-payback if such a device existed.

"Jeez! Why the fuck did you pick this location again?" Hazaar snapped. Lazeer looked back in time to see his brother swat at a horde of mosquitoes, that seemed to be flying around his head.

"Awww, they missed you." Lazeer said. He just couldn't stop himself from making a joke out of his brother's misfortune. "Look at them swarm around your big, ol' Melon-head."

"They're annoying as hell!" Hazaar jumped down from the rock that he was sitting on. He slid the magazine under his shirt then walked over to where his brother was.

While the insects weren't bothering him, they seemed to be quite attracted to Hazaar; he had a feeling that it revolved around what he was wearing, and what he did to his hair that morning. Hazaar was wearing a pair of dark red pants. The shoes, that were on his feet, were a dark red color. The shirt that he was wearing was red; it had a print of dark red blood dripping down from its collar. When Hazaar went to bed last night, his deep purple rattail was five inches long. He had cut an inch and a half of that off that morning then he did a spell to make what he cut from his head combine into a long, thin strand. He braided two sections of the strand of hair that he made then he slid all sorts of red and purple beads onto the sections of the strand that hadn't been braided; before exiting the upstairs bathroom, he glued the strand of severed hair to the rest of his rattail. The glued strand of hair, that was hanging from his brother's rattail, stretched down his back about seven inches; at breakfast, his brother claimed that it was something new that he was trying out.

Lazeer went back to work in flipping rocks. His brother followed him for a short while then he stopped and simply stood and watched. He had just flipped a large slab of rock when he found something that he wanted to take home and call his pet. As he slid one of the latex gloves on his hand, he kept his eye on the animal that he had just uncovered. It was a rather pretty animal, and it looked full-grown—the amphibian was about eight inches long; it had a black body but its legs, tail, spine, and head were orange. There were orange dots running along the sides of its back. Lazeer pulled one of the containers that he had around his waist down then, very slowly, and carefully, he picked the amphibian up. The amphibian seemed to be very calm in his hand—it was just lying in the palm of his hand; it wasn't trying to jump or run away from him, which he liked a lot. He opened the container then he put the amphibian in then he went back to looking for more.

"Good, you got one. Now let's get out of here!" Hazaar said. He was reaching for his brother's arm when his brother pulled away from him.

"Hell no, I want one or two more of those." Lazeer said. "If you want to leave do so, you're doing nothing more than running your mouth anyways."

"Running m..." Hazaar exclaimed. He rushed over then gave his brother a shove. "You little shit! I don't want to be here! I want to be back h—"

"Then go, I don't need you anyways." Lazeer snapped. "You're not helping anyways; all you're doing is crying and complaining about how you can't do what you want to do and about how the bugs are annoying you."

"That is not true!"

"Yes it is."

"Mom said for you to have a babysitter—"

"Mom said for one of my brothers to come along with me; she didn't say for one of my brothers to be my babysitter." Lazeer said.

"Yes she did. When she said for one of your brothers to go with you, she meant for one of us to babysit you." Hazaar said.

"I've been going out on my own long before I got my goggled glass, I think she knows that I don't need a babysitter anymore." Lazeer said.

"Dude! You're the annoying younger brother—that means you'll always have one of your older brothers tag along to be your babysitter." Hazaar said as he lunged for Lazeer's arm again. Instead of grabbing his brother's arm, he grabbed air. Lazeer turned then swung his fist at him.

He and his twin had thought that it'd only be four or five communities that they'd have to search and that the terrain would be flat after they agreed to search the area known as Yunnan, China. Once they teleported to the area, and started taking in their surroundings, that assumption was forgotten. He and his brother had wandered for nearly two hours before coming upon the first village, which had a population of under three hundred in it. They had searched that village, had found nothing, then had gone on to look for the next one. In total, they had searched ten villages, two towns, and one city; the latter of which had a population count of just under two thousand in it.

Most of the area that they had searched was covered in either subtropical or tropical forest or tall grass or sugar cane; none of it was flat by any means. It was hot, it was humid, and, like he had told Eldass a few minutes ago, there were plenty of insects swarming about. He and his brother were wise in not leaving their shared apartment, that was under their employer's mansion home, that was on Moas, without their thigh-high rubber boots and a pair of gloves; they had forgotten all about bringing the can of bug spray and the lotion, though. He had been swatting at mosquitoes, and at any other flying or crawling insect that decided to jump and/or land on them, for hours now.

Them thigh-high rubber boots had come in handy during their time in the area; his twin had nearly stepped on a red and black banded snake and three snakes had snapped at him. Thanks to their rubbers, no snake was allowed to inject its vemon into them. They came across several species of deer and a herd of what looked to be a bovine-like animal twice during their travels between the villages, towns, and cities; plenty of birds had also been seen. They were near a rather large river now—it had started out as being quite wide when they came by it; now, it was starting to narrow out. While most of the amphibian-life that they had seen was small, the one that they had mistaken as a log was going to stick in their memories for a long time. His brother had actually stepped on the big, dark brown creature, that was lying straight out on the riverbank; they had wasted no time in running away after the creature snapped itself up and then around towards them. The creature, they guessed, was around six feet long. It had a creamy underside; its legs were short and stubby while its tail was long and powerful-looking. It had one hell of a big mouth! Neither of them had dared to head back to get a second look at the creature. They had given it a wide and respectful berth; since the encounter, they hadn't seen it again.

"What say we put in a short, five-minute break for lunch?" he said.

"You and your stomach must of decided to gang-read my mind, Mr. Former-Serirsepp." his brother replied.

"Should we dine in safety in a tree or shall we find a rock to sit on, Mr. Former-Aeyuzuun." he said in return.

"Shade is best—the sun is baking me alive!" his brother replied.

They crossed into the deep grass then started searching for a tree, that's branches and leaves offered plenty of shade and that had a rock or something underneath it for them to sit on. By the time they found such a tree, their clothes were dark with sweat; the brother that was leading the way was breathing a little on the heavy side. He was also starting to stagger a little. They went to the tree that they had found quickly; Olok practically picked his twin up when they reached the rock that was under the tree. When it was his turn to get on the rock, he found himself struggling. When they were on the rock, they just sat and stared at the landscape that was around them. Off to the west, there was tall grass; a bunch of deer heads were seen after a loud growl was heard. To the east, there was a thin forest. The forest that was behind them was pretty thick. The river was churning violently directly in front of them. It seemed like forever before Olok dropped the brown bag that he was carrying; he swung it from his shoulder then he placed it on his lap. He opened the bag then started rummaging around in it; after a few second of rummaging, he pulled two bottles of water out. He gave one of the bottles to his brother then he opened his own.

"Water, the most precious thing in the Universe." Ulok said after taking a long drink from the bottle that he had gotten from his twin.

"That five-minute walk near killed you, U." Olok said.

"It's hot and humid out here," Ulok said. He then pointed at the river. "You know the name of that river?"

"Dulongjiang," Olok replied. "One of the locals in the last village that we went through said it was the Dulongjiang river."

"Splits off from the Pearl river. It's a tributary—flows right into north Vietnam." Ulok said.

"I'd of jumped in for a swim if we hadn't of come by that beast earlier." Olok said as he began to sift through the items that were in his bag.

"That beast had a roar to it." Ulok replied.

Olok looked up from his bag for only a second before resuming his search for the lunchbox that he had slipped into the bag earlier that morning. A bag each was packed before they left their apartment; most of the stuff that was in their bags was the same. Olok had a rolled up, blue tuxedo jacket in his bag while Ulok had a rolled up, white tuxedo jacket in his; their jackets were removed after the heat started rolling into the area that they had decided to do their searching in. Olok had a black lunchbox in his bag, along with a first aid kit and a container that had heat-related medicines in it. While their handheld radios were in their bags, their cellular phones were on their persons—on their belts; where they would normally be. Olok had used his cellular several times—for either when Eldass Zultoa or Abevo Speelin had messaged him—while Ulok had only used his twice. They had video cameras in their bags; a normal camera, with plenty of film canisters, was also in their bags. Ulok had been the only one to think about putting some of their closet-supply of cold snaps in his bag—those were only to be used in the event of a heat-related emergency or problem... when one of them got too hot and needed to be cooled off fast. There were no towels or rags in the bags—they had forgotten all about bringing one of those. Olok pulled the black lunchbox, that was in his bag, out after a minute's worth of searching; he unzipped it then he flipped the top out of the way quickly.

"Are my eyes deceiving me?" Ulok said after seeing what his brother had taken from his lunchbox. "That's not one of your favorite sandwiches is it?"

"Mhmmm—lettuce, tomato, and pickle on pumpernickel bread." Olok replied.

"Yuck! Your food tastes are revolting." Ulok said.

"Yeah, well I saw a certain someone making one of them Allota Fat sandwiches this morning." Olok replied.

"Yum—a sandwich that has tons of pork fat and gravy on it." Ulok said as he swung his brown shoulder bag around to his lap. "Added a tomato and a piece of squash to it at the last minute."

"Gross! Walk behind me after you consume that please."

Olok ate his sandwich in silence then, when he was done, he went for the jar of apple sauce, that had chunks of pineapples in it. Ulok took a tupperware container, that had some peppered carrot slices in it, from his lunchbox after he finished his sandwich; he and his twin shared these, along with the chocolate raspberry mini muffins, that Ulok also had in his lunchbox. The last thing that they ate were the lemon raspberry bars that Olok had added to his lunchbox at the last minute that morning. They drank plenty of water then they simply sat on the rock afterwards; the river, that was five or so minutes from them, had a good, silver shine to it that both Goblins liked. It reminded them of how lucky they were in being together and in having an employer who was nice and respectful. Neither were much bothered over the fact that they weren't much involved in the resently past holiday of Family Week—their adoptive families had disowned them many thousands of years ago, after they started looking for their mirrored selves. As they saw it, they _were_ involved in the holiday. They were a family of two and they got along very well, despite the fact that they hadn't been raised together.

"Hey! Cool!" they heard someone, who had a gruff, hoarse-sounding voice, say off in the distance.

"Whelp, guess that means break-time is over." Olok said. He slid his now empty lunchbox back into his bag then he zipped the bag up; his brother was doing the same thing. "Trouble is not needed between us and the locals."

"What is it that you found this time?" another voice, a tough-sounding voice, reached their ears.

"A cool ass frog!" the person who had the gruff, hoarse voice said back.

"Big whoop!"

"The resident locals in this area hunt, catch, sell, and eat frogs." Ulok said as he adjusted the shoulder strap of his brown bag. "They either eat them whole or they'll just eat the legs. Most of the time, they eat the frogs raw."

"Think I prefer food to be cooked—fish over frogs, too." Olok said. He started to lead his brother from the tree that they had eaten lunch under.

They started off by heading back to the riverbank then, after the two voices grew louder and closer, they decided to walk along the outer edge of the thin forest. They could tell that the two voices belonged to kids, and they could also tell that the two kids were of the male gender; one of the kids seemed rather agitated while the other seemed to be rather excited about the frogs and salamanders that he had caught. One of the kid's had caught five frogs—from what they were able to hear, the frogs were a mottled green and brown color; the amphibians also had an appearance akin to moss. The kid had also caught three salamanders, that were orange and black in color; the other kid didn't seem to care much about the frogs or salamanders that his companion had caught. The other kid seemed to only want to go home. He was constantly complaining about being in the area and he was constantly picking on his companion, who took the bullying for all of five minutes before beginning to defend himself. Due to their close proximity to the two kids, Ulok and Olok were forced to listen to the verbal exchanges that they were doing and they were also forced to listen in on the physical fighting that was happening between them.

Although they were annoyed over being so close to the fighting they were glad that they were getting a bit of experience in on how the younger generation dealt with their emotions. Miss. Eshal, their employer's oldest child, and only daughter, had experienced a rather difficult time when she went through the Temperamental phase that all early to mid-teenage children go through. Their employer had reprimanded her several times. He had disciplined her correctly and he had talked to her on how to handle herself when she felt her temper going into that uncontrollable area on the temper gauge. They knew that their employer was a rather patient man; he was very patient and understanding with his only daughter when she was going through the Temperamental phase. What would happen after the Young Masters were found? Their employer's two, younger sons were experiencing that same phase at the same time—would that patience be put to the test then? Male teenagers experienced a more explosive Temperamental phase than female teenagers; parents did have to be more firm with their male teenage children than with their female teenage children.

"Ow! You idiot!" the kid who had the tough-sounding voice yelled. "That was my hair!"

"Well, if that one strand wasn't as long as you have it you wouldn't of had to worry about me grabbing it." the kid that had the gruff, hoarse-sounding voice said back.

"—'s going to know about us fighting," the tough-sounding kid said. "Look at me! My clothes are wet; I'll probably have two black eyes because of you; and my knee and hip are killing me!"

"How's m— going to know about us fighting through your knee and hip hurting you?" the gruff, hoarse-sounding kid asked. "You could of simply tripped and fallen on a rock."

"My clothes are ripped too."

"There are Tigers around too; I could easily say that you had a Tiger-encounter."

"M—'s going to believe that all of our facial bumps, nicks, scratches, black eyes, and bruises and our wet and torn clothes were caused by a Tiger attack? Get real, ya freak!"

"Maybe not, I'll just stick with putting the blame on you." the gruff, hoarse-voiced kid said.

"Grab your fuckin' containers and lets get out of here." the tough-voiced kid snapped. "I've had about enough of you for one day."

"Really? I was just getting started in paying you back."

"Paying me back?" the tough-voiced kid repeated the last three words that the other kid had just said. "Dude, you're insane. I can beat you up with one arm held behind my back."

"Y... well, actually I'm just playing catch-up with you." the gruff-voiced kid said. "All the wasted years of not being able to pick a fight with you because of my poor, sensitive eye. The three fights that we just had are just the beg... hey!"

"Keep it up, Lazeer—that "sensitive" eye of yours won't be seeing much of anything."

As Ulok and Olok were rushing forward, towards the sound of the two kids that they had been hearing fight for the last few minutes, Homsi was walking slowly through the Au am Rhein dump. So far, he had seen nothing of what the Claydo, who was on the other side of the shield, had seen or photographed. He had seen plenty of junk—which he wouldn't dare go near—and he had smelled plenty of foul odors but he hadn't seen anything of high interest. The area that the Claydo was facing had three piles of junk in it; two that were rather tall with the third being small. With finding nothing in the area that had held the Claydo's interest, he had decided to walk around a little—to see if whatever it was that had caught the Claydo's interest was still in the area. He was nearing the west end of the dump now. He was only a few yards from the center of the dump; the smell, that was assaulting his nostrils, was almost enough to make him call it a day and go home. If he was asked to compare what he was smelling to anything in particular, he'd of said that it was a combination of rotting produce—mainly cabbage and onions—dirty diapers, spoiled milk, and bad eggs times a hundred. It was that damn bad!

As he went by his way, he'd find himself, on occasion, reaching up to touch the short strands of light gray hair that was slowly growing back after its horrible assault by a pair of scissors seven weeks ago. He knew that touching or rubbing one's thinning, bald, or near bald areas didn't make the hair grow back any faster but, still, he felt weird without his hair—he also knew that he looked strange without it. He was so tired on the day that his hair was assaulted... He had conked out on the couch; his wife was at home at the time but she hadn't been anywhere near the kitchen or living room. She was just getting out of the shower when he came in from work. She had decided to take a shower while the twins were napping... or were _supposedly_ napping; the twins had, apparently, been fake-napping when that decision to take a shower was made. While his wife was showering, the twins were out and about in the apartment; unsupervised, and he, of course, hadn't known this. He never would of taken that nap if he had known about the twins being left unsupervised in the apartment. He would of stayed awake; he would of kept watch over them until his wife returned to relieve him. Instead of being told this, or knowing this, he came home then went to sleep on the couch; the clothes, that he put on that morning, had still been on, as had his shoes and socks. He had dreamed a short dream before feeling a sudden stab of pain in one of his ears.

Naturally, his first response was to find the reason behind that stab of pain. He sat up then reached his hands up to his ears; the right had come away clean while the left had come away with a touch of blood on it. A glance behind him was made after that touch of blood was seen; the thought of something either falling on him, or that he had been bitten by a bug, was thought. His hair, lying on the shoulders of his dark blue tuxedo, and on the carpet that was before the living room couch, had been the first thing he had seen; that was a real shock.

His hair was unique to him. He had tried growing hair on the top of his head several times in his youth; his genetic make-up hadn't allowed that to happen. It had always grown out from his ears and it had always been a light gray color, which was weird; his parents and his siblings all had hair on their heads and their hair was either black or dark brown. Over the years, he had grown rather fond of the way his hair grew; it meant less to clean on his body and, despite it growing out from his ears, it stayed relatively clean. He had grown concerned after noticing that his hair wasn't where it was suppose to be; he had wondered what happened for both the pain in his left ear to occur and for his hair to not be where it was suppose to be.

He had gotten the answer to them two questions after glancing down; his youngest son, Gizzeppli, was down, nearly on his knees, behind the arm of the couch. His young son was holding a pair of silver scissors in his small hand at the time; he had also had a right guilty look on his face.

A yell, his shooting up from the couch, then his running off to the bathroom, that his wife had just come out of, had happened. A few-minute check of his reflection in the mirror had happened then a certain young son of his had gotten a spanking and then a good talking-to on how to not use a pair of scissors and on what to use and on what to not use a pair of scissors on. His wife, Abara, had let him do the disciplining—she had been too shocked over what their young son had done. His parents, siblings, and in-laws had really said nothing after being told what happened—they had all been too stunned—and his co-workers had all thought that he was a new employee. The hair snipping incident hadn't been the only thing that Gizzeppli and Galiza had done to receive punishment for; a few days before the hair-snipping incident, he had walked in on them drawing on the kitchen floor with magic markers and, a week before that, they dumped glue all over the carpet that was in their bedroom. They were toddlers, he understood that, but they did have to learn what was right and what was wrong. They were disciplined for each incident; over the past six months, he had been forking out hundreds of dollars to get the carpets replaced in the apartment. He had also had to purchase new paint for the walls as well. His wife had to scrub the kitchen floor five times with a heavy mixture of soap and a cleaner potion before the twins' drawings went away.

"Homsi, see anything?" Eldass's voice came in through his walkie-talkie in a near whisper-like manner; he snatched the walkie from its holster, which was to the left of his belt's brass buckle, quickly.

"Negative, no signs of anything that that guy was interested in in this dump." he replied.

"Vile's employee moved off—he went south. Look for a set of train tracks—he's standing near a set of old train tracks."

"How far did he go from where he was ten minutes ago?" Homsi asked.

"Uhhh... twenty to thirty feet, I'd say."

As he walked forward, he found himself wishing that he had put something else on that morning. Eldass was smart; instead of showing up for work in a tuxedo, he had shown up wearing a pair of brown shorts, that barely came down to his knees, a white t-shirt, a pair of rather rugged boots, and he had also had a bag that contained several items that he would need during his time on Earth. What had he shown up to work with? A black shoulder bag, that was currently bobbing against his left thigh, for starters. The black shoulder bag had a lunchbox, a first aid kit, a video camera and a regular camera, his wand, and a small, hand-held gun in it. His work cellular and his non-work cellular phone were in their holsters on his belt, as was his hand-held walkie-talkie; there was a sheathed bowie knife on his belt beside the walkie-talkie. The hoverboard, that had cost him a little over a grand, was beside the knife.

While his co-worker came to work wearing non-formal attire, he punched his work ticket in while wearing a dark gray tuxedo—he was quite sure that he'd be scrubbing the shoes that matched the tuxedo for a few hours after he got home, not to mention, he'd probably have to take his suit to the cleaners just to get the stink off of it. There were nothing but heaps of foul smelling junk on either side of him; some were piled up high while others were small—regardless of their size, the smell that was coming from them was the same. It made his nose want to curl up into his face! The path that he was walking down was wet, sticky, and it had bits and pieces of paper and glass on it that he was trying to not step on.

He really wasn't paying any attention on how far he had gone; he wasn't going to go climbing over the piles of stinking junk just to see if he was going in the right direction or not. All he knew was that he was walking in a southerly fashion. When a large mosquito buzzed near his ear, he slapped his hand up to shoo it off; when a rat ran across the path, he stopped for just for a second before going on; and, when a cat's screech was heard, he stopped to look around. It seemed like forever before he made the turn that brought him to where a set of old train tracks were. There were three sets of tracks in front on him now; one was rather worn down and rusty while the other two looked to still be in use. The ground in this area of the dump wasn't wet; it was dusty, which he thought was worse. There were a series of sheds beyond the train tracks; some were rather rusty and small while the others had a clean look to them. The ones that looked clean were bigger than the smaller, rusty sheds.

Homsi looked over to the left; the Claydo, he saw, was pointing and yelling at him. He heard the fellow saying for him to vacate the area at once before the law was put on him; he laughed at the man's words then he went towards the train tracks. He had just reached them when the door of one of the smaller, rustier sheds swung open; a cloud of light gray smoke drifted out from the shed for a second, Homsi heard some cackling followed by some coughing. Homsi figured that a bunch of humans had decided to take advantage of one of the dump's many sheds—either to have a smoke or to drink some type of illegal booze or to even do some sort of private talk in; sheds were, after all, the most private of places to smoke or drink in or to conduct some sort of private business in. Homsi had just started making his way across the train tracks when one of the shed's inhabitants stepped out, into view.

"Dude! You have one hell of a powerful set of lungs on you!" the human, who had brown hair, and who was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a black tank top, and black shoes, said. "You practically downed two doobs on your own man!"

"Told ya not to hand me a whole one, Skippy." a deep voice, that sounded very strong and powerful, said back.

"What was the stuff you had?" the human asked. "Had a good taste to it."

"Popeye, I was told. I usually go for the mid-grade stuff."

"Expensive? Where'd you get it?"

"Amsterdam, man."

"No shit! You went to one of them Cannabis Coffee Shops?"

"Yes and no. They don't sell to tourists; in order for me to get enough that'd last a month, I had to wait until someone came out of one of the shops." Homsi stopped when the human turned in his direction. He and the human locked eyes for only a second before the human looked away.

"Man, that stuff has me hallucinating! I'm seeing Trolls!" the human laughed then coughed after he said that; Homsi felt a trifle bit offended over being mistaken for a Troll.

"Really? Well, get ready to see Bigfoot because here he comes. Rowr!"

Homsi plunged his hand into the bag that he had packed that morning for both the video camera and the normal camera as his employer's adopted son stepped out of the shed. Bile Vile, the actual son of Vile Vile, but the adopted son of TazirVile Surfeit, stumbled out of the shed; he came close to collapsing to his knees then, at the last second, he righted himself then rushed forward, towards the human that was with him in the shed only a few moments before. He grabbed the human, who looked so small and fragile compared to him, then he picked him up. The human struggled in Bile's arms; he swung his arms, and he kicked his legs, before going limp. Homsi turned the two cameras on then started the process of gathering video and photographic evidence of what happened next. Bile put the kid down then started to walk around in circles; he joked that he was rapid, and that the human better run before he came after him. The human did... for only a few feet, before his legs collapsed from under him. Bile took two steps towards the human then stopped. He stood in place for what felt like forever before turning and then heading away from both the human and Homsi. He staggered twice; he dropped to one of his knees four times; then he disappeared. Homsi found himself too paralyzed to follow the youngster; he was shocked over what he had just seen. The human, who was still on the ground, stayed on his side; his chest was rising and falling so he was alive. Homsi detected a faint snoring sound coming from the human—he figured that the human had fallen asleep after he collapsed to the ground.

Homsi wasn't very sure over what he had just seen; the conversation that he had heard before his employer's adopted son came out of the shed seemed very far and distant in his brain. Bile was staggering around. He hadn't been acting right. Why was that? Why wasn't the youngster with his mother? Where were his brothers; were they okay, or did something happen to make them separate? Why was Bile at the dump and why had the youngster been in the shed with the human? It took Homsi a full five minutes before he finally found the ability to move; he stopped the two cameras from capturing anymore footage then he checked them to see if they had caught what he had seen. The camera footage was long—what he saw took only a minute and half of tape; most of what he captured on the camera was useless junk that his employer would probably yawn at. The photographs were good but, again, he had taken more than he should of. He deleted the ones that weren't needed then he turned and started to leave the dump.

"Hey...! Hey, you! Hey...!" Homsi stopped after exiting the dump; he turned to the side then saw that the Claydo was walking towards him briskly. Homsi kept the Claydo in his line of sight as he slid the two cameras into his bag. When the Claydo was two feet from him he said, "By decree of the planet's ruler and owner, you are to hand over any and all camera footage that you just took."

"By decree of my employer, who is more the father of the youngster that I just saw, I am to keep any footage that I have recently taken." Homsi said back.

"Master Vile's orders, I can take any footage that you have recently shot by force if—"

Eldass stopped short after exiting the bushes that he had been standing behind; he watched in silence as his co-worker swung his fist at the Claydo. The Claydo yelled in shock, then in pain, then he ran forward. Homsi, as quick as greased lightning, stepped to the side just before the Claydo reached him then, after the Claydo went past him, he wheeled around. The Claydo tripped; he fell face-first to the ground; then he started to shout in anger and pain after five strands of red energy wrapped around his body. Homsi stood in place for only a second or two; the strands of red energy, that were coming from the tips of his fingers, were sending billows of white smoke up as they burned his fingernails. When he dropped his attack, the fingernails, that were on the fingers of his right hand, were burned down to their quicks. Lynster moaned painfully before rolling over; the first thing that he noticed was that his body was a burned and smoking mess. The second thing that he noticed was that he was alone—the two Goblins that were in the area had teleported either out of the area or off the planet.


	17. Chapter 17

"M-Mr. Leinart," he said. He waited a few seconds before saying the man's name again after the man didn't turned to acknowledge him. "Mr. Leinart?"

"Hmmmn?" Mr. Leinart said back.

"What's the seismic activity here?" he asked. "Is it anything like what's experienced in Wyoming or Canada?"

"Can't really answer your second question as I've lived here my whole life—never once left Europe." Mr. Leinart replied. "Seismic activity is relatively weak here; we typically have a major tremor once every two hundred or so years. The area that you and your family chose to reside in is in Zone 1; on average, the people in this area typically experience between one and three quakes a year. The highest quake that's been recorded in this area was a four-pointer—that was recorded some sixty-six years ago."

"Have any quakes been felt since we moved here?" he asked.

"Yes—one that barely registered on the Richter scale was felt up north of here three weeks after you and your family moved here." Mr. Leinart replied. "Prior to that, a small two-pointer was felt down south of here. That was about four months before you and your family moved here."

The question on what his and his family's current resident area's seismic activity was was heavy on his mind for all of four days; if Mr. Leinart wasn't "jumped" on by his brothers when he came over earlier, he would of asked him about it sooner. He was right embarrassed by his brothers' antics after the man came in; since their mother was in the upstairs bathroom, she wasn't available to let the man in. Lhaklar was the one to do that—since their mother wasn't around to be the House Welcomer, Lhaklar took it upon himself to act as the "House Owner". Lhaklar had led their visitor around, showing him this part and then that part of the house, before taking him back to the living room. They had just finished eating lunch; Lhaklar had offered the man something to eat and then something to drink—their visitor had politely turned him down.

Mr. Leinart wasn't allowed to get comfortable on the sectional couch for long—Hazaar ran up with his turtles just two minutes after the man sat down. Hazaar was a big show-off with his turtles; all five of his turtles were put in plastic containers sometime after the man came in—after the man was shown around the house, he went up to his room to collect the containers that his turtles were in. Mr. Leinart was right interested in the Spiny Turtles; while holding one of them, he told his brother stories on how he and one of his brothers captured small European Pond turtles from the small pond that was behind their old childhood home. Hazaar took his turtles back to his room after their mother came down. Their mother and their visitor spoke for a few minutes then Bile came down with something that he had found at one of the dumps that he had visited two or three days before. Bile had shown Mr. Leinart his find; they spoke about it in great detail then, after they concluded their conversation; Bile went back to his room with the thing that he had to show off. Their mother had resumed her conversation with their visitor; they spoke for a short while longer then their visitor stood up. He had asked the man his question quickly before he had a chance to leave their living room.

The reason for why he had asked about the area's seismic activity was basic: when he and his family were living in the state of Wyoming, they had experienced maybe a hundred or so small to medium-strength quakes. They had no more moved into the state before feeling their first earthquake, which was right small—a 4.5. When they lived in Canada, they had experienced a lot more seismic activity. Most of the earthquakes that he and his family went through when they were living in Canada were small-strength ones but, from time to time, they had experienced a few of the bigger ones. The quake that happened on May 12, 3765, for example, had rumbled right through the county that they were living in at a strong 7.7; there were a lot of injuries and there was a lot of property damage. No lives were claimed, though. He was no more than one thousand, two hundred, and sixty-five years old when that earthquake happened; he was at home when it happened, as had all of his biological brothers. All of them were scared half to death; their mother, despite being scared half to death as well, had done all that she could think of to keep them both calm and together.

There were signs that the May 12, 3765 quake was coming; the dogs and cats, that were in their then-neighborhood, had either gone crazy—in either going from one room to another, like they couldn't make up their minds on where they wanted to be, or in leaving piss puddles of poo mounds in their owners' residences—or had disappeared. The squirrels had actually dissappeared four days before the quake happened. The local deer species, that were frequently seen in and around their then-neighborhood, had run clean out of their county one day before the squirrels disappeared; the deer that were in the counties or Providences around them had done the same thing. No one had really expected for the quake to happen; it was a surprise to everyone. Everyone had managed to keep it together, regardless of the hysteria that was happening.

Scientists all claimed that there was no way to tell or forecast when an earthquake was about to happen; he had always called bull on that—the animals that lived in the area where a quake was to happen would always act funny either a few days before or just before a quake happened. They'd either migrate to areas that were a distance from where the earthquake was to happen or they'd go crazy in either running from one place to another or they'd grow very nervous and start shitting or pissing certain areas up. Earthworms were also known to crawl out from the soil days prior to a quake. Animal disappearances and migrations that happened prior to a quake had happened quite a lot when they were living in Canada and, later on, Wyoming. He had expected for the same tell-tale quake-signs to happen here, in Germany, as well. He and his family went to bed on the second day of the month of October peacefully. Their mother was given a double-shift at U-Krop-It, so she had already been out of the house and, since it was a Friday, so was Lhaklar. Nothing out of the ordinary happened either in or outside of the house to warn them about what was to happen at 2:27 a.m.; his frogs and salamanders, Hazaar's turtles, and Guyunis's kitten had given them no heads-up or warnings and that went double for the other domestic pets that the humans had in their neighborhood. The local wildlife that was in their part of Germany had also given them no warnings; there were no mass migrations or disappearances—the animals acted as they normally did. He went to bed with his and Mr. Leinart's conversation still heavy on his mind. He was happy with the answer that he was given and he was relieved in knowing that he and his family had moved to a low-activity quake zone.

When the quake started rumbling through the neighborhood that he and his family had picked to reside in, he figured that it'd register as being a 2.1 on the Seismic scale. It was rather weak, and he barely felt it. He placed his head back on his pillow after he felt the slight rumble. He was about to fall asleep when the quake's tempo was upped.

"Ow!" Lazeer cried after the stuffed Opossum, that was preserved with its legs sticking out from its body, and with its tail curved in a near question-mark, fell from the piece of driftwood, that he had nailed above his bed nearly two months ago, onto his head. Lazeer pushed himself up then slid the fourteen pound preserved Opossum, that he nabbed nearly eight months ago, when he and his family were living in Colorado, to the side. He shook his head then got out of bed; instead of walking away from his bed, he found himself lying face-down on the Optical Illusion, imitation Indian-made rug that was beside his bed.

While he lifted his head up from the floor slowly, his eyes snapped open at once. Later on, after everything calmed down some, he would say that the five minutes that followed his collapse to the floor after he got out of bed were the most terrifying five minutes of his life.

All of his brothers were screaming in fright; Guyunis's kitten was screeching in terror; and, he wasn't sure, but he thought he heard the neighbors around him screaming and howling in terror and confusion. His heart skipped a beat when he found that he couldn't get up from the floor. The oak camouflage comforter, that was in the set that he purchased nearly two months ago, after he and his family moved into the neighborhood, had wrapped itself around his legs. The comforter's matching sheets were all tangled up in the center of the bed while the dark green fleece blanket, that he had to purchase separately—the set that he bought hadn't had a blanket included in it—, was up against the wall. His bed's three pillows, that had matching oak camouflage cases on them, were no longer on his bed—they were bouncing against the distressed wooden side table that was beside his bed.

The floor that he was lying on shook violently for what seemed like a very long time then it started to act like an ocean wave—at first, it rocked and rolled gently, then it steadily grew rougher and violent. He clutched at the rug that he was on in terror; with the floor acting the way it was, and with his brothers all screaming, and with his hearing things falling all around him, he felt like he was riding on one hell of a powerful roller coaster. The pillows, that were bouncing against his night table, fell to the floor; they were followed by a good many of the things that were on the walls of his room. Some of the hunting trophies that were on his bookcase fell to the floor; he felt something faint falling on the back of his head from the ceiling above. The entire room creaked and groaned around him; due to his terror, and the comforter that was tangled around his legs, he was paralyzed. He couldn't move from where he had fallen even if he wanted to.

He felt his terror increase when he started to hear a popping sound that quickly became siren-like. By the time the siren-like sounds started, a flashing red light started seeping in through the red drapes that were pulled over his bedroom window. He thought that the flashing red lights were coming from a police vehicle but, as soon as that thought popped into his head, they changed to being bright purple and, by the time they did that, the siren-like sounds changed into a furious, ominous roar.

" _Biiiiile!_ "he screamed as his room rocked and rolled around him, and as the flashing, purple lights, that were coming in from his bedroom window, started to flash brighter and faster. "Bile! Hazaar! Guyunis! Someone, help me! I'm stuck on the floor! I can't—"

A series of loud thunderclaps droned out the rest of what he said. The window that was in his room suddenly and inexplicably exploded—the drapes blew in; the energized breeze, that blew into his room, was rather strong. When the window exploded, some of the glass particles and shards blew towards him. Due to his terror, and to his being pinned to the floor, he couldn't raise his hands to ward them off. Several of the glass shards struck him in the face after the window exploded—he yelled after one of them slapped up against his left eye.

After being hit by the glass shard, he tried to get up; when he started to feel something wet and warm drift down from the eye that was struck by the piece of glass, he automatically thought that he had lost his eye. It was quite easy to think that the wet, warm ooze, that was slowly trickling down the left side of his face, was blood; he thought that it was coming from his now eyeless eye socket—the one that his sun-sensitive eye was suppose to be in. As the wet, warm ooze trickled down the left side of his face, he turned around. As the floor underneath him bucked and then rolled towards the now glass-less window, he tried his best to be quick in untangling the comforter from around his legs. He had just gotten the comforter loose from his legs when the lamps, that were either on his bookcase or night table, and the domed light that was above him, in his room's ceiling, began to flicker on and off. He watched in disbelief as the domed light and the three lamps flicked on and off for a few seconds before getting up. He had just started towards his bedroom door when the door burst from its hinges. He yelled in shock then leaped out of the door's way. The door practically split in two after striking the baseboard of his bed a second later.

"Lazeer!" Bile yelled after kicking the door of his youngest brother's bedroom in. Lazeer, he saw, was standing near sprawl-legged near his bookcase; he wasted no time in rushing forward to collect him. After he reached his brother, he grabbed and then practically threw him out of the room. "Move, dammit! If the house falls, I do not want to be in it and neither do you!"

He walked forward in a daze; with the only eye that he was able to see out of, he saw that most of the framed photographs, that his mother put on the walls after they moved in, had fallen to the floor. The hallway was littered with pieces of broken glass and wood; he winced with each step that he took then, when he stepped on a particularly sharp piece of glass, he leaped back. Bile grabbed and then pushed him forward harshly. It seemed like forever before he reached and then started his descent down the stairs; like with the second floor's hallway, the stairs were covered in glass and pieces of wood. He struggled to not cry in pain with each step that he took. After he reached the end of the stairs, he felt Bile pushing him to the left; thanks to how dark the first level of the house was, he wasn't able to see anything. He could hear what was going on around him very well, though. The walls seemed to have heartbeats now, and the floor was still rocking and rolling, and there was a loud clicking and clanging sound that seemed to be coming from the bathroom that was next to the stairs. For some reason, he got the idea that the quake had lost a little of its strength—the bucking, rolling motion of the floor had eased up a bit after Bile came for him.

Lazeer brought his hand up to the left side of his face. He wiped his face of the warmth that was coming from his left eye then he turned halfway around. Due to a violent flash of orange—which was new in this strange quake that decided to happen in his and his family's small residential area in south Germany—he was able to see that both of the living room windows had burst inwards. There was glass all over the living room. The back patio door, that was in the dining room, had also burst inward; there was glass in the dining room too. There was no mistaking the fear that was on Bile's face. It was worn almost as like a Halloween mask; it was very evident that he was more than a little scared. If what was happening wasn't dire or serious he would of cracked a joke on who all would be scarred for life after his older brother walked out of the house. Bile was wearing his night clothes—a baggy, white t-shirt and a pair of red and white striped boxer shorts. Bile had obviously not taken the time to grab something to throw on his body before leaving his bedroom after the quake started to get bad. With his knowing that this wasn't the time to joke around, and with his terror being as high as it was, he just couldn't muster up the courage to say much of anything. The last thing that he remembered was feeling his brother's arms wrap around him. He didn't remember being picked up off the floor or being carried out the door. His terror over what was going on around him made him faint right when Bile picked him up.

"Oh shit! Is he okay?" Hazaar asked after Bile placed an unconscious Lazeer down on the ground, near the street.

"What's all tha-k-t stuff on his face?" Guyunis asked.

Bile didn't answer any of the questions that his brothers were asking him. He simply shook his head then reached his arms back. He ripped his t-shirt off his back then he slowly brought it over the left side of his brother's face. He was in a half-shock at the moment; after being woke up by the quake, he had found himself as not only having to experience the sensation of feeling his bed bounce up towards the ceiling, and then nearly tip over with him still lying on it, but also hearing his younger brothers screaming in terror. Being that this was his first time in experiencing such an event like this, and being that this was also the first time he was going through an earthquake on his own, he had nearly been paralyzed with fear. He had sat on his bed, with his hands gripping the sides of the mattress tightly, for nearly a minute before finding the strength to get up. His fear was shoved to the side; with hearing his brothers all screaming like they were, his motor functions had switched from fear to bravery. He went to save his brothers, who were just as terrified as he was.

He reached Guyunis first—his adoptive brother was in the upstairs hallway. Both of Guyunis's hands were clasped around his right knee; in his attempt to get out from his bedroom, he had banged his knee pretty hard on something in his room. He had helped Guyunis out of the house. Sabine, his brother's kitten, had raced out of the front door at the same time; he hadn't had to worry about having to go searching for her after getting everyone out of the house. He went back into the house for Hazaar after he got Guyunis to safety.

The quake was pretty bad then. Along with fighting his way down the hallway that came off the foyer, he struggled to get up the stairs on that second trip. The flesh on his left elbow was banged open during that struggle up the stairs; his feet had also been pretty badly cut on the glass that was on the carpet. He had fought through them pains to get to Hazaar, who had managed to nearly get out of his room. He had found his younger brother clinging to the frame that his bedroom door was fitted to; Hazaar had been too terrified to move or speak—he had just wanted to keep his hold on the door frame. Hazaar seemed fine now but, in time, he would probably feel some pains in his hands and/or ribs—he had to punch at his younger brother's hands to get them free from the door frame; his younger brother probably had two or three broken fingers. He also had to pick him up to get him out of the house; Hazaar probably had some bruised or cracked or broken ribs as well.

Since Lhaklar wasn't in the house, he had one less brother to save. He had actually been carrying Hazaar down the hallway that came off the foyer when Lazeer's cut-off scream for help was heard. He had come close to dropping Hazaar after his youngest brother's scream was cut off; even though the fear that he was feeling went up a notch or two, he had managed to keep walking forward. Hazaar had come-to after he got them outside; after Hazaar started thrashing about in his arms, he put him on the grass then turned around. He went back into the house once more for the brother whose scream was cut-off.

The third trip down the hallway that came off the foyer was tricky—there was more glass on the carpet. The trek up the stairs was equally as tricky. It looked like Lazeer was on his way out of his room when he got to him. That was one less thing for him to worry about—all while fighting his way down the hallway, and then up the stairs, he had worried about Lazeer. He had pictured going into his youngest brother's bedroom to find Lazeer as either being pinned under his bed, or bookcase, or lying in a puddle of blood. He had pictured finding his youngest brother badly injured—even dead! He had sighed inside when he saw that his youngest brother was up and about; all of them pictured horrors went away. The task of getting both he and Lazeer out of the house was the only worry that he had afterwards.

"He's fine," Bile sighed after seeing that the blood, that he was wiping off his brother's face, wasn't coming from a punctured eye. His brother's eye was fine, but he might need a few stitches to close the diagonal gash that went across it. After he sighed, he turned then looked at the two other brothers that he had helped out of the house. He repeated what he had just said to them. "He's fine, just unconscious is all."

"What's happening-k?" Guyunis asked. Although the quake seemed to of lost much of its punch, the ground was still shaking. The night sky was still being lit up by loud flashes of orange, purple, and red light.

"A number of things could be happening," Bile said. "One, the day that the humans can't see to want to stop talking or preaching about has finally arrived where all life is literally wiped off the face of the planet. Two, my birth-father left the planet for a bit then returned. Or three, some other being, that's just as evil as my birth-father is, or that's more evil than my birth-father is, entered the planet's atmosphere in a violent fashion that literally rocked the planet to its core and back."

"The last time your father came to the planet he didn't create such a violent reaction," Hazaar pointed out. "It grew dark, then a series of earthquakes happened. There were no flashes of red, purple, or orange lights going on in the sky and the ground didn't shake as violently as it was nearly five minutes ago. I'm willing to bet my October allowance that some other being of equal or greater evil just came to the planet."

"W... wha-k-t happens if someone of equal or greater evil comes here?" Guyunis asked. "Will there be a figh-k-t or..."

"I don't know how my father defends his conquered realms from invaders," Bile said as he turned Lazeer's head to the side. Even though Lazeer was starting to stir, he didn't want him to choke on anything. "I do know that he did doodley-squat when the Machine Empire invaded for the second time and, from what ma told us a long time ago, he didn't do much of anything when Trakeena and his younger brother tried to take over the planet. From what ma told us, he just showed up; the ones that were trying to take the planet from his control fled with their tails firmly tucked between their legs. Ma says that he waited until his possible usurpers were defeated by the teenagers that were the planet's then-protectors; she also says that he didn't show much interest in the planet because he couldn't get past her shields. When small pockets of humans started moving out from under the shields—started building towns and cities some distance from the shields—he took a small interest but, before that, he had very little interest in the planet."

"Letting-k others do his dirty work before showing-k up to dispose of the remnants," Guyunis shook his head. "Maybe he's showing-k his age. Too old to defend a plane-k-t or a galaxy."

"That's what we think he did," Hazaar said. When Lazeer sat up, he leaned down. "Welcome back, ya little annoyance. Have a good sleep? Dream any good dreams, or did you just—"

"Not right now, Hazaar." Bile said as he pushed Hazaar to the side. "Lazeer, you alright?"

As Lazeer was both nodding his head and reaching his hand up to feel if his eye was still in its socket, and as Lhaklar was discovering that his ability to teleport from place to place was canceled out by the earthquake, and as Angel Irene was struggling to get out from under the gondola shelf, that fell on her when the quake started to increase in power, Caroline Louise Roberts, and the others that were left behind after the order was given by Horace Smith to evacuate the White House, were going crazy with fear. George Davis, the former Executive Chef, who was responsible for planning, managing, and then preparing the menus and meals for the First Family, was running from one room to the next to help those that were either pinned to the floor by something that fell on them or that were injured while Mrs. Roberts was simply huddled in a corner, shaking in utter terror.

One of the three remaining butlers, a man named William Robinson, was yelling for someone to help him. From what Mrs. Roberts was able to hear, one of the building's many chandeliers hadn't only fallen on the man but had also sliced right through one of his legs. She knew from William Robinson's yells that not only was his leg near-severed below the knee but it was also spewing blood all over the place. William's cries for help were coming from the Green Room, which was one of three parlor rooms that were on the first floor of the White House. The pleading cries of Henry McKim, the second of the three butlers that was also left at the White House after the building was evacuated in May, were coming from the State Dining Room, which was the larger of the two dining rooms that were also on the first floor of the White House. Henry McKim's pleading cries were nearly inaudible but Caroline was able to make out that he was pinned under the dining room's long table. Some of the chairs that were set up on either side of the table had landed on him. She was just barely able to make out that one of his extremities was broken.

The third butler, an elderly man named Erik Bloomberg, was yelling from the Cross Hall, which was a broad hallway that had a red carpet that had a gold border of laurel leaves, medallions, and five-pointed stars running its entire length. Erik Bloomberg was just plain scared; Caroline couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. While none of them had it easy the past few months he had really been effected by all of the stress that was going on around them.

William Robinson's, Henry McKim's, and Erik Bloomberg's cries were nearly overshadowed by an even louder yell that was coming from their self-proclaimed ruler. Master Vile wasn't yelling for help, he wasn't in pain, he wasn't pinned down by a chandelier or a table or some chairs, and he wasn't yelling in fear either—he was simply yelling out orders for his monster staff. Although Lynster, a creature that Caroline Louise Roberts perceived as a cross between a Scottish Terrier and a rat, was yelling in fright, he seemed to be doing exactly as he was being ordered to do—which was to grab his employer's sword from the room that his employer had decided to reside in for the last few days. The pig-like monster that cooked and then prepared all of their evil employer's meals wasn't getting any real orders to do so he was just squealing and screeching in terror. The pig-like creature was in the kitchen, that was on the ground, or basement, floor of the White House, before the quake started. Caroline figured that he was still in that part of the building. The other men that literally jumped at every command that they were given by their employer were given orders to either locate the planetary intruder, or to bring their employer the security statistics of the two continents that he had control over, or to bring him some sort of box that contained some sort of important document that Caroline figured only he cared about. Caroline didn't know if they were obeying those orders or not; all she knew was that she and a bunch of her co-workers were scared to death.

Caroline Louise Roberts was in the Entrance Hall. She had decided to try to blend in with her surroundings that day as she really didn't want to be anywhere near the man that she had been working for since the early part of May. She was trying her best to stay clear of the man after he raped and then tortured her on the 22nd of August; despite having a headful of hair again, she knew that it'd take some time before it grew back to the state that it was in before the man used his damn hair-pulling device on it. The finger and toenails, that were ripped from her fingers and toes, had yet to grow back. Most of the burns, bruises, and cuts that the man had put on her had healed; she had some scarring on her breasts, arms, and legs but the scars weren't really noticeable. Both she and her husband were glad for that.

Her husband, Charles "Charlie" Roberts, had nearly hit the roof after hearing that she was raped and then tortured. He had ranted and raved about how he was going to get the son-of-a-bitch that dared to put a finger on her and he had actually made the drive over to the White House to confront the man. She had tried to make him leave for his own safety but he hadn't listened. Her dear husband of nearly five years had gotten the shit beat out of him by her employer no more than ten minutes after entering the building. Master Vile had come very close to killing the man but, thankfully, he had backed off at the last second. George Davis was the one who called the hospital; after the ambulance arrived, and her husband was put in it, she went to the hospital with him.

The experience of being raped, and then tortured, by Master Vile, then seeing Master Vile beat her husband nearly to death, was enough to tell her that she'd best keep her distance from the man. She had tried to get her employer to either fire or relieve her of her duties twice since the event of her husband being beat up—the man had refused to do so. She was, in a sad sense, the man's prisoner. The man who took over the American continents in May of that year had her trapped; she was being forced to work for him, and so were George Davis, William Robinson, Henry McKim, and Erik Bloomberg.

She had only reacted out of instinct after the ground started to shake; after running to the corner that she was currently all huddled up in, she threw her arms over her head. After throwing her arms over herself, the ceiling tile above her, and then a cloud of white dust, fell—regardless of being scared half to death, and having things fall on her, she was fine. She was very aware of the fine layer of dust that she was wearing; she was okay with the dust—it was better than having busted or broken bones or skin. The chandelier, that was hanging from the room's ceiling, was now on the floor; there was glass all over the place; and the furnishing had either been thrown from their places or were rolled over to one of their sides. Caroline was very lucky; she was on the far side of the hall from the windows—if she had decided to huddle underneath one of the two, large windows, that were on either side of the Entrance Hall's door, she would of received some nasty injuries after they exploded. Caroline stood up shakily. She gave her shoulders a weak shove to rid them of the dust that was on them then she stepped forward at the same time that George Davis ran over to her.

"Mrs. Roberts, you alright?" George Davis, a middle-aged man who had black hair, that was both graying and growing thin on the sides, and brown eyes, asked after reaching Caroline.

"Fine," Caroline said. "I'm fine—you seeing what I am, George?"

Instead of answering his co-worker's question, he gently and carefully ran his hands over her body to see if she had any injuries that needed immediate attention. The last three minutes were Hell for him; he hoped to never go through what he had just experienced again. The quake was bad enough while the injuries, that he saw after the quake's strength started to ebb, were far worse. He had helped to stabilize William Robinson's leg, which was nearly severed below the knee, then he went to help Henry McKim get out from under the items that fell on him. The long table, that was in the State Dining Room, hadn't only fallen on Henry—it had somehow broke in three places! Most of the chairs that were around it had fallen away from it; there were about three or four that fell on Henry after the table pinned him to the floor. Henry had apparently tried to take shelter under the table after the quake started to happen—his attempt to shelter himself had caused his right leg to be twisted in a right bad way! He had practically carried William Robinson to the Cross Hall; Henry McKim was able to support some of his weight when he took him to the Cross Hall. The two men had shown him a lot of gratitude after he helped them get situated in the hall.

At the time that he was going to find Caroline, he heard the horrid man that was new employer barking out the order for "the humans" to be both rounded up and then put in one of the first floor hallways. The monster that looked part Terrier and part rat had happened on him carrying Henry McKim to the Cross Hall; while he let him go on in carrying Henry to the hall, he tried to stop him from leaving the area to find Caroline. Since the fellow was rather nervous and off-balance, he had managed to slip by him; the creature wasn't complying very well with the instructions given to him by his employer—while he swiped at him, to prevent him from leaving the Cross Hall, his swipe was weak, and he didn't pursue him.

Like Mrs. Roberts and Mr. Bloomberg, he hadn't had it easy the past five months. Although he still had his job, and although he was still being paid for that job, he wasn't getting paid what he usually did for it. Normally, he'd bring home around a grand a week; now, he was lucky to bring home $100 a month. His wife was stressed out; thanks to the sudden drop in his pay, some of their bills were either not getting paid or had to be dropped. Thanks to his new employer, his benefits and work insurances were also downsized. Prior to Master Vile's attempt to economically starve the continents and islands that were across the Atlantic, he had decided to break every working man and woman by dropping their pays, benefits, and insurances; many people were sick and many of them sick people couldn't afford to pay for a doctor because all of the money that they were getting in their small paychecks was going towards the essentials—the bills, food for the cabinets, and maybe a small can or two of energy-fuel for their cars. There was very little left over for a hospital or doctor visit. His wife had gotten sick just two weeks ago; she had to go to the hospital for a stomach issue. If his medical benefits and work insurance was intact, he would of been able to take care of the medical bill with no problem. His wife's medical bill had cost him over $400; he had to let their electricity go to pay that.

Despite his attempts to stay calm, he snapped about a week and a half ago; the pressure and the stress had gotten to him... He had confronted the man who had crowned himself as North and South America's ruler about his actions towards the people that he ruled over without giving his actions a good thinking-over. He had really let the man have it. Before snapping his trap shut, he let all of his feelings about the matter of the benefits and insurances being taken away, and about the paychecks being severely downsized, and about how the man was treating every man, woman, and child—while the man had listened, most of what he said had gone through one of his ears and then out the other. His jaw came close to being broken by a well-placed punch a few seconds later; his employer had told him to get the bleep out of his sight after swinging at him. In the past five months, he had received more than one undeserved punishment after another—along with swinging his fists at him, Master Vile had kicked him. Master Vile had also used his electric or energy, or whatever the hell they were, powers on him three times just to make him feel belittled. He no longer did anything at work; he just showed up then simply stood or sat around. His new employer's monster staff had reported him on that several times—his job, his profession, was being a chef; the evil man who took over the Americas had his own chef working the building so he, technically, was out of a job. The pig-like monstrosity of a chef refused to let him so much as touch a fork much less cook a meal. When he said something on that matter to his new employer, the man had simply shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't given a damn and he still didn't give a damn.

Caroline Louise Roberts, the woman who was the Secretary of the Press up to Master Vile's conquest of the American continents, looked to be in good shape, which was a big surprise to him. The foyer that he found her in had a good layer of glass on its floor; the windows had exploded inwards, as had the room's mirrors; and the chandelier, that was normally in the center of the room's ceiling, had fallen to the floor. The gilded beech French Empire pier table, that was made by cabinetmaker Pierre-Antoine Bellange, was lacking one of its legs; it was on its side, nearly in the center of the room. The ormolu French Empire mantel clock, that was on the French Empire table, had fallen to the floor; George had no idea if that fine and rather ancient piece of work was okay or not. The armchairs had been hurled from their respective places on the north part of the room; they were near the Grand Staircase now. All of the potted plants were out of their pots; there was dirt all over the northern portion of the foyer. The Steinway grand piano was in surprisingly good condition, which George thought was good because that piece of furniture was rather ancient and important to the room. The gold bordered, red drapes were drifting in and out of the now glass-less windows; a chilly breeze, that had a strange, energized feeling to it, was blowing in through the room's two windows.

George shivered when the breeze struck him before turning to look at Caroline; he saw that she had a fine layer of white dust on her head and shoulders—he guessed that it was from the ceiling. She did have a bleeding cut on the top of her head; since the woman didn't seem to know about it, George decided to not tell her about it. He didn't want to scare or cause her to injure herself anymore than she already was. When a small trail of blood started to fall down the side of Caroline's face, George slowly pulled the right sleeve of his shirt away from his arm. He wiped the trail of blood from the side of Caroline's face quickly then he placed his hand on her elbow.

"Come on," George said as he gently took Caroline by the arm. She didn't put up a fight in being turned around. "William, Henry, and Erik are in the Cross Hall, we'll join them there."

"Did you see it?" Caroline asked. Before George could lead her out of the room, she planted her feet firmly on the floor. She turned halfway back, towards the two windows that were now behind her.

"See what?" George asked.

"It's snowing outside," Caroline said in a near daze. "It wasn't snowing earlier, before the quake happened. It is now."

George stopped almost at once then turned halfway around to see if it was really snowing outside or not; he really thought that his co-worker was seeing dust falling from the ceiling—the quake was pretty bad, and he was pretty sure that the building had sustained some sort of damage from it. Due to a sudden gust of wind, he couldn't see anything of what was going on outside. The curtains that were in front of the two windows blew wildly for all of five seconds before calming down. When they finally settled down, he took a step forward. What he saw he really wasn't expecting. His rational senses told him that it was much too warm for snow to be falling; the temperature that morning had risen to just over forty-five degrees. If there was any precipitation in the clouds it would of fallen as rain instead of snow and yet it was snowing, just like his co-worker had said it was. It wasn't a blizzard-like snow that was falling and it wasn't a mild-type of snowfall either; the snow that was coming down from the sky was falling at a right good pace. The South Lawn was nearly covered in the snowfall that, for some odd reason, wasn't white. It was a weird, dark gray color.

The day's forecast had called for a mild rain shower at noon; no precipitation was said to fall during the morning hours and no snow was forecast for the area. George began to wonder if what was happening was normal; was it normal for snow to fall after a large, explosive, and destructive quake happened? Could the quake of woke one of the planet's major volcanoes up—could the snow not be snow but ash? Could there be more trouble on the horizon for him and his co-workers with whatever was going on with the planet that they were born and raised on? George shrugged his shoulders; he didn't have the answer to any of them questions. All he knew was that the building had an even more chilly feeling to it that he didn't like. George turned around; he looked at Caroline for only a second before taking her by the arm again. He led her from the room that he had found her in slowly.

"How many were in the building?" Rourke Ibmhun asked after the quake had quieted down, and after the mass hysteria in the building had dropped to a more comfortable level. "Besides us, what was the total in the building?"

"Eleven total," Nygiti Meltin, a huge, goat-like being who had brown fur and blue eyes, replied. He brushed his cloven hoofed hands over the straight, sharp-looking, yellow-colored horns that were sticking out from the top of his head. "Only nine accounted for."

"Which ones are missing?" Rourke asked. "I see only two of the five humans that our employer graciously spared in this hallway, where's the other two?"

"Right there," Galong Exadhoo, a green-scaled lizard-man who had bright blue crests above a pair of red eyes that had tiny, black pupils in their centers, said. The yellow whiskers, that were hanging from under his nostrils, twitched ever so slightly as he pointed at Caroline and George, who had just walked into the Cross Hall.

"Ahh, good. All accounted for; no rebellions or attempts to leave the building." Rourke said. After taking in Caroline and George's physical states, he made a sound that sounded like a weird hybrid between a laugh and a sigh. "Of the five humans that are in the building only two came out from the Planetary Shake unharmed. Shame, these humans do seem to be right fragile beings."

"Should we notify Master Vile on the human injuries?" Galong asked. When Caroline and George got close enough, he lunged for them. He grabbed Caroline first; he threw her over to where Henry McKim, William Robinson, and Erik Bloomberg were then he turned his attention towards George. George gave the lizard-man a slight fight. The two swung fists for a few seconds then George found himself lying face-down on the floor. Galong kicked the man that he just body slammed over to where the other humans were then he turned to Rourke. "Not really any of the five are worth keeping in the building—they aren't needed. The woman is too used up, one of the men is elderly and slow, and the other men are either too mouthy or disobedient."

"That is—" Rourke's voice was suddenly overshadowed by a right low one that they were all too familiar with.

"—my decision, not any of yours."

Caroline and George crawled over to where Henry McKim, William Robinson, and Erik Bloomberg were; they didn't really position themselves in front of the three men to protect them—they simply wanted the men to be as close to them as humanly possible. When Caroline felt a warm, wet liquid roll down the right side of her face she reached her hand up. She wiped the warm, wet liquid off her face then she looked at her hand; George grabbed and then pulled her hand down a second later. His action came a fraction of a second too late; Caroline shrugged her shoulders after seeing what it was that was flowing down the side of her face then she looked at the man that was walking towards her and her group.

The breast-plate, that Master Vile was wearing over the front of his long-flowing, black robe, was a mostly dull gold color. Up, near the breast-part of the plate, were a few small, circular, aqua-colored areas; a circular, ruby-colored area was near its waist. The gold chain mail, that was hanging from the plate's rib-area, had three things on it—one was a thin, gold chain while the other two items were tassels. One of the tassels was white, and was tied off at the end by a red string; the second tassel she couldn't keep herself from looking at.

Caroline had heard stories about this tassel. Some said that the tassel was made of actual hair from a person's head and not just any head at that. The stories that were told by way of mouth or through the history books claimed that the man's own mother had made a series of tassels out of the hair that had once been on Angel Irene's head. The man's mother had made the tassels after Angel Irene was brutally beaten; the stories claimed that she gave all of the tassels that she made to the members of her family. Caroline only needed to look at the tassel once to know that the stories were true; the tassel wasn't a plain red color—it was a fiery, flaming red color, and it glowed! A fiery-red glow trailed alongside Master Vile almost like a shadow as he walked over, towards her and her co-workers. The glow had a mystical, alien feeling to it that Caroline found intriguing; she wondered if all of Angel Irene's hair glowed in the way that the tassel was. Caroline shook her head once then looked over at George, who seemed to be almost hypnotized by the fiery-red tassel. She nudged him with her elbow at the same time that Master Vile stopped. Master Vile merely glanced at her and her co-workers before giving Rourke, Nygiti, Galong, and Lynster his full attention.

"Where's the pig?" Master Vile demanded loudly.

"Here, sir." Glog Esftu, a black, warthog-like creature who had dark brown tufts of hair on his head and chin, long tusks, and sharp teeth in a medium-length snout, replied. Glog was semi-hiding behind one of the Cross Hall's white pillars.

"Sir, all security is fine in all areas of your governing." Rourke reported.

"Your troops have been notified of the situation; they are ready to go to battle should this invader decide to become hostile." Nygiti relayed. "Professor Longnose is awaiting your orders."

"Where did he or she land?" Master Vile asked. "Did any of you underlings get a reading on the location of where this invader landed his or her ship?"

"Sir, sadly no readings came back on where any trespassing ships landed on the planet." Galong bleated quickly.

"We do know that the Planetary quake was strongest over on the other side of the planet, sir." Rourke said.

"Where?" Master Vile demanded to know. "Where was the quake's strongest point?"

"Germany, sir. Rastatt, and the areas around Rastatt, encountered the strongest point of the Planetary quake." Rourke answered quickly.

"Which of these humans were injured?" Master Vile looked down at Caroline, Henry, George, Erik, and William. He scowled at them then glanced away. "The woman, I see, has a head-wound that isn't very serious. What of the men?"

"Sir, the elderly man is unharmed. So is the one who refuses to work." Nygiti said. "The dark human with the kinky hair has a severely twisted right leg and the tall male with the brown hair has a near-severed left leg."

"Lynster, remove the injured humans from the building. Either send them to a hospital or to some other place that's a distance from this building. This is not a time for them to act cowardly and I need not be bothered by their disgusting cries and moans." Master Vile snorted. "The others are to remain here. Galong, lock the woman and the two uninjured men in a room upstairs."

"Yessir," Lynster and Galong both said.

The sudden calm and control that settled over the room after Master Vile showed up evaporated rather quickly after Lynster tried to teleport William Robinson and Henry McKim out of the building. Lynster's left eyebrow shot up after his first attempt in trying to teleport the two men out of the building didn't follow through; when nothing happened on his second attempt, he shrieked then shrinked back. Caroline and George looked back as the strange, Scottish Terrier/Rat hybrid-looking creature shrinked back against the wall in horror; they watched in confusion as the strange creature's mouth curled back in a near snarl. Caroline and George turned to look at one another when the creature's blue eyes started to look as if they'd burst out from his face. Galong took the initiative to teleport William and Henry after Lynster shrieked; he did the same thing as Lynster when he discovered that he wasn't able to teleport the two men out of the building either.

Things hit the fan very quickly after Galong's attempt in teleporting William and Henry out of the building didn't follow through. Galong backed away from William and Henry; his heavily muscled arms were taut and held out in a warding-off manner. He acted like he wanted William and Henry nowhere near him. Lynster hitched in three breaths after Galong backed away from the two injured men then shrieked at the top of his lungs that the one that invaded the planet had cancelled his powers. Glog ran forward; he tried to teleport the two injured men then he started squealing when nothing happened. Rourke came close to hitting the ceiling after his attempt in teleporting the two men out of the building didn't follow through while Nygiti grabbed William Robinson by the shoulders; Nygiti tried again and again to teleport William out of the building. When he found that the man wasn't going anywhere, he grew angry. He shoved William forward then stomped off.

Master Vile stood in place; he looked at the members of his staff, who were either walking around the humans or shrieking in terror, for a few seconds before reaching his hand down to his belt-line. Caroline's eyes widened when she saw that he was going for the hilt of a sword. She screamed in terror then she jumped on top of William Robinson. George Davis yelled in shock when he saw that his employer was pulling a sword out of a silver sheath; he dive-bombed on top of Henry McKim quickly. Erik Bloomberg started to shiver and shake in fear; he jumped between Caroline and William and George and Henry.

" _Enough!_ " Master Vile yelled. He clashed his sword against one of the Cross Hall's pillars once. The people that were in the hallway, both monster and human, all jumped then went silent. Caroline, George, and Erik looked up at Master Vile fearfully; the man glared at them before turning his attention to his staff. "This is not the time for any of you to be cracking. Toughen up, now!"

"Most High and Mighty Vile, why is it that none of us can teleport the humans that are injured out of the building?" Rourke asked in a slightly shaky voice.

" _The intruder!_ "Galong exclaimed before Master Vile could respond to Rourke's question. "The intruder came... he robbed every one of us of our powers and—"

"We'll be powerless for up to fifteen minutes!" Glog squealed. He hopped up and down a few times then he started to walk around in circles. "Fifteen minutes! So much can happen in fifteen minutes! We can be hu—"

" _Silence!_ "Master Vile's yell was so loud... It echoed throughout the building. He stood still for a few seconds before turning. He started to walk away; after going five feet, he stopped then turned around. "You peanut-brained idiots all disgust me! You are all acting like the damn humans, who know no better than to be afraid in a situation like this! The ability to teleport is the only ability that's been cancelled—"

"Sir..." Galong and Glog both looked at Lynster after he cut their employer off in mid-sentence.

"All matter of communication by phone and radio and all television, radio, and remote signals have been blocked by this trespasser but the trespasser has not tampered with any of our power abilities. No power abilities have been affected by this unknown intruder; pull your balls out from your asses and act like men!" Master Vile finished. He glared at Lynster before glancing at the other members of his staff to see if his words had gotten through to them.

Caroline slid off William at the same time that George got off Henry. Erik looked up from the floor for only a second before dropping his head back down again. Master Vile's chest was heaving up and down; his face bore every detail of his rage. The sword, that he had in his hand, glistened rather brightly, despite the fact that there were no lights on in the building. Caroline squinted her eyes slightly to get a better look at the weapon that her employer had in his hand; when she couldn't see much of the sword's details she took two crawling steps forward. George grabbed her by her leg when he saw her crawling away; he pulled her back towards the group quickly then he threw his arm around her waist to keep her in the spot that he had pulled her back to. The two crawling steps that Caroline had taken had helped her quite a lot in seeing Master Vile's sword; she had seen that the blade was thick and sharp and she had also seen that the blade had some sort of dust on it that shone brightly, even when there were no lights on. The thick blade, she had noticed, was wavy and snake-like in appearance. The pommel-part of the sword was designed to look like a snake's head—it was a rich gold color. Before being pulled back by George, she noticed that there were rubies set in the snake-headed pommel's eyes. The snake-headed pommel part of the sword came complete with a set of fangs; while she wasn't able to get a good look at the fangs, she did believe that she saw the shine of pearl on them.

Lynster, Galong, and Rourke calmed down slowly; it took a while for Glog and Nygiti to get control of themselves. Master Vile stood in place for a few minutes then moved off. He left the hallway for five minutes; when he returned, he had a hand-held device that looked much too small in his large hand. He fiddled with the device for all of a minute then, after the device gave off two beeps, then a slightly whirring sound, he nodded his head. He threw the device over to Lynster, who caught it clumsily, then he walked off again. George stood up; he took two steps towards Lynster before stopping. He craned his neck up as far as it would go to see what the thing that his employer had used looked like then, after he got a brief glimpse of the thing, he went back to his co-workers. George felt like calling Master Vile out on what he had said about all television, radio, and remote signals being blocked—the device that the man had used had looked an awful lot like a mini-tv or some sort of remote controlled satellite statistics reader to him. Before returning to his co-workers, he was able to see two of the many satellites that were orbiting the planet on the device's small screen. He had also seen some words and numbers on the left side of the device's screen.

When Master Vile returned to their part of the hallway eight minutes later, everyone was calm. Where he went, none of them knew. He looked a bit anxious, which confused everyone. Caroline stood up suddenly; she brushed her hands down the front of the purple dress that she was wearing then she gave her employer a steely look.

"You know why the weather changed so suddenly?" Caroline asked Master Vile. She felt a tinge of fear sweep over her when Master Vile turned his head towards her. "I-it was snowing outside a few minutes ago, and it looks like it's still snowing, why is that?"

"A break in the ozone layers caused a change in the weather—happened after the intruder entered the planet." Master Vile answered with a snarl. "Whenever one enters or leaves a planet, it disrupts a portion of the ozone layers. The major factor in ozone disruption is a vessel's speed. A vessel that's traveling at normal or slow speed will barely effect the ozone layers while a vessel that's being driven at over twenty-five thousand miles per hour will cause major damage to the ozone layers. All matter of weather phenomena happens after a major ozone layer disruption—that is what this planet is experiencing now."

"Is that snow or ash falling from the sky?" George asked. "Snow is normally white—whatever's falling from the sky is dark gray. The South Lawn is practically covered in a dark gray blanket."

"It's not ash," Master Vile answered quickly. "It's a mixture of particles from the ozone layers that were destroyed by the intruder's entrance to the planet and whatever moisture that was in the atmosphere."

"Is it poisonous?" George asked.

"It'll make the air heavier for a short while," Master Vile said back. He began to walk off again; he stopped then turned around after going five feet. "If you humans were given the proper teachings of how a planet ticks you'd know that, when an ozone layer is destroyed, all that happens is the air grows heavier... thicker than usual and a significant change in the weather will be experienced for a few weeks. The snow that you see falling from the sky will stop in an hour or two; you may cough or sneeze for all of an hour but you won't be that badly effected by the ozone particles. The hole that the intruder made in the ozone layers will repair itself in a few weeks time—not in ten or twenty years, like you humans have been told by your peanut-brained scientists. There's more than one layer of ozone to a planet; your scientists are wrong in saying that it's only one ozone layer aiding protection to a planet. Each major layer of a planet's atmosphere has an ozone layer within it—they act as one to aid protection against any and all space manner that could be harmful to the living organisms that move around on the planet."

Although he was anxious over the lengthy wait for all communication and teleportation abilities to return, he was marvelously impressed by how the humans were conducting themselves. He had half-expected for the three humans that weren't injured to group up and then try to overthrow or harm him—it usually took a while for the people of a planet that he had conquered to accept that he wasn't going anywhere and that his rule over them and their planet wasn't going to go away. He had gotten some steely looks but there were no rebellions or riots, which was good. His staff had nearly cracked, he was surprised by that—they knew what happened after some intruder came to one's planet with ill-intentions. All of them were taught in their primary educations about what all happened when one of evil entered a planet and, except for Glog, they had all experienced occurrences like this once or twice in their lives. He wasn't very concerned over any rebellions sparking up because of this unknown intruder's hurried arrival to his planet. He could take care of any rebellion that happened on the planet quickly; it was the one who came to his conquered realm that he was concerned about.

Whoever it was, he knew two things right off the bat about him or her. One, the being had to be crazy for entering his conquered planet in such a fashion. A ship, or a cluster of ships, could well be badly damaged by entering a planet above twenty-five thousand miles per hour; a conqueror could really cause his conquering campaign to go down the toilet by trying the scare-speed tactic, not the mention, a conqueror was also putting his—or her, should the conqueror be of the female gender—and anyone else's lives that were in the ship with him—or her—in danger. A ship, any ship, could last a one hundred and fifty thousand mile an hour thrust but not for long and it was highly recommended that no ship be at that speed when entering a planet; a ship could well explode from the pressure of both the speed that it was being forced to fly in and by the planet's atmospheric layers that were trying to keep said ship from entering the planet.

The second thing that he knew about the one who came to his conquered planet was that he or she may be powerful. It didn't matter how big or small a planet was and it didn't matter if a planet had rings around it or if it had highly gaseous atmospheric layers—all planets that were in the Universe were highly reactive to evil energies. The crust layers would shake, or specific storms may happen that were much more powerful than the normal ones that happened on the planet; the sun may even disappear for a few minutes or hours and some water sources may dry up inexplicably. Communications going out was normal; it was normal for any and all communications to go down for a few minutes—the information that went up to the orbiting satellites had just been scrambled. The machines that sent the information that a satellite needed to know would start working on getting the lines cleared right after the signals were blocked.

For such a furious Planetary quake to happen, one who was just as evil as he was, or who was of greater evil, had to of come to the planet. He wasn't very worried over being beaten by any other being and he wasn't very concerned over his planet being taken from him. All of the other intruders that came to the planet that he was currently on had made one fatal error in thinking that he was old and slowing up. He had taught each of them a lesson by not only showing up to dispose of them but by also letting them be beat by someone that wasn't evil. Having someone that wasn't evil defeat you was bad—it put a mean dent in on one's ego—but having the ruler of the world that you just tried to conquer, and that you failed in conquering, show up was like a cherry added to a nice slice of cake. Some of his defeated attempted usurpers had acted nervous when he showed up—they left his planet with their tails firmly tucked between their legs. There were two or three that he had fought; those bastard-souls were no longer in existence—he had taken them from the life-grid soon after appearing on the planet. If this new intruder had intentions of fighting him, he wouldn't back off in terror. He'd stand tall. He'd fight a good fight. He'd give out a good ass-kicking then he'd see the intruder off. If this intruder brought in his or her troops, he would make sure that his own troops were ready to intercept them. This was his planet; he wasn't going to let it slip out from his grasp without a good, solid, fight.

" _Oh shit, Willy! George!_ " Caroline shrieked. She dropped to her knees beside William Robinson. "George, give him your shirt or something! He's—"

"Attempt teleporting the injured humans out now." Master Vile barked loudly. He could see the state of the tall human male, who had brown hair and eyes, very well. There was a pool of blood nearly all around the human; the man looked very pale and weak.

Unlike the first try, where William Robinson and Henry McKim went nowhere after the monsters tried to teleport them to a hospice, where they would get the medical treatment that they needed for their injuries, the two men were effortlessly removed from the building. Lynster placed his hand on William Robinson's shoulder; William disappeared a second later. Galong teleported Henry McKim out of the building a second later then he stepped back; the sick smile, that spread across his face, said it all for Caroline and George—the man was happy to have his teleportation abilities back. Caroline and George sat in place for a short while in silence. They looked at Master Vile then they turned to look at Eric Bloomberg, who had calmed down considerably well after seeing the man that was his employer reaching for his sword. Caroline and George helped Eric to his feet; they checked their co-worker over then they found themselves being flung back against the wall that was behind them. They saw stars after their heads smacked against the wall. They fought to remain conscious after falling face-first to the floor. They were shaking their heads when a foreboding cry was heard. Caroline was the only one that heard it fully; the cry was loud, low, and it had an aggressive tone to it that echoed all throughout the area for miles. An explosion happened right after the cry was heard; Master Vile turned around to see bits and pieces of concrete, tile, vinyl, and foam flying towards him. He got out of the way of the debris quickly then, after the debris passed him by, he walked back to where he had previously been standing.

Caroline pushed herself up then looked towards the Blue Room, which was the third of the parlor rooms that were on the first floor of the White House. Her vision was blurred for all of a few seconds. She waited patiently for it to clear then, when it did, she gasped loudly. She couldn't believe what she was seeing! The entire front portion of the Blue Room was missing! There were wires and pipes sticking out all over the place; the room's furniture was missing; and there was stuffing, foam, strings, and glass all over the floor. Caroline was hitching in breath to ask what happened for the Blue Room to explode in the fashion that it had when, suddenly, a bunch of creatures ran into the room.

He had watched the old Harry Potter films as a kid and teenager almost religiously. He knew the films and the books almost like the back of his hands and, for some strange reason, when the creatures, that looked like the Goblins, that were in the Harry Potter films, started coming into the wrecked Blue Room, he automatically started comparing them to the Potter-Genre Goblins.

The creatures were small in stature; while they looked elf and Goblin-like in appearance, they also looked like small humans. None of them had stocky bodies or short or stubby arms or legs. George didn't stick around to ask if the creatures were Goblins or not; he grabbed Caroline by the back of her dress then he grabbed Erik. He yanked the two to their feet then he practically pulled them along with him for twenty feet. Before he released the hold that he had on his two co-workers, he heard a ripping sound. He looked over his shoulder only once to discern the source of the ripping sound that he heard then he looked forward again—the source of the sound that he heard had come from Caroline's dress; in his grabbing and then running off with her, he had ripped some of the front and all of the back portion of the dress completely off. Caroline had either not noticed that she was running half-exposed or she didn't care. She ran in sync with George and Erik almost all the way down the hall before stopping. She ducked into one of the rooms that was on the Cross Hall quickly then she hid behind its door. George and Erik ducked into the room that was two down from her own.

"Carol?" she heard George say in a near whisper; down the hall, she heard the sounds of a fight happening. "Caroline? You alright? Where—"

"I'm fine, George. I'm in a room on the hall." she said back. She took a breath in then she found herself shivering. Only when she wrapped her arms around her upper body did she notice that her top half was exposed; the light red brasier, that she was wearing, was the only thing that was keeping her breasts from being seen. She wrapped her arms around her exposed top half tightly then she peeked out from the room that she had ducked into; George and Erik were doing the same. What they saw was, to them, both entertaining and terrifying—their employer, and his monster staff, had forgotten all about them. They were fighting the creatures that came in into the Blue Room.

By the way things were looking, whoever it was that came to their planet had decided to not only come to the capital but had also decided to bring a small military platoon with them. Master Vile and his monster staff were sending a barrage of streaked lights into the now-destroyed Blue Room; a barrage of streaked lights came out soon after, along with some sort of weapon that had smoke coming from its sides. One of the smoking weapons struck Master Vile on the hip; he kicked it back from where it came then he punched his hands out. Caroline saw five beams of purple-colored lights shoot out from the ends of her employer's fingers. He must of struck one or two of the creatures that were in the Blue Room because she heard someone shout in pain afterwards.

Nygiti shot a yellow ray of light into the Blue Room that, interestingly, was returned to him. Caroline saw Nygiti flying back into the Entrance Hall; Rourke and Galong followed soon after. Glog sent a multi-colored strand of red, purple, and white lights into the Blue Room; he either hurt some of the beings that ran into the room or some of the beings that were in the room had added a yell into their jump as they leaped away from the man's attack. A gold speckled black beam of light shot out of the room after the yells were heard; the pig-like chef did three back flips after it struck him before crashing to the floor. Lynster shot five strands of blue light into the room then he pulled a long, thin, brown-colored stick out from the side of his red imperial suit. He flicked the stick five times. A few, red and purple, crackling lights shot into the room a few seconds later. Caroline's jaw dropped after three sparks of white light emitted from Lynster's body a few seconds later, after three of the smoking, bomb-like weapons struck him in the stomach and chest. He was beat back a second later by a barrage of white lights that sent him sailing towards the ceiling.

Caroline, George, and Erik turned their attention towards the sole remaining man left in the hall. Master Vile was the only one left standing—it looked like he had plenty more to give to whoever it was that was in the Blue Room. Caroline, George, and Erik saw their employer shoot five strands of pink-colored lights from his fists; those were followed by some red, and then black, colored beams. Just as Master Vile was casting a blue beam from the palm of his hand, he was struck three times by a white fluid that slapped up against his shoulders, stomach, and chest. Master Vile, after stumbling back two steps, looked down; the areas where the white fluid struck his body exploded in a brilliant flash of white a fraction of a second later. Master Vile dropped to his left knee for a second before getting back up. He had no more stood to his full height before being flung across the hall. Caroline didn't know what caused the latter thing to happen—after being struck by the white fluid, nothing else came from the Blue Room. When Master Vile struck one of the hallway pillars, George and Erik winched. The pillar that Master Vile collided with damn near split in half!

"How nice! We have no greeting upon arrival." someone who had a gravelly-sounding voice said from the Blue Room.

"You have no right in being here!" Master Vile yelled. George and Erik ran over to the room that Caroline was in. They grabbed Caroline as fast as they could then they ran with her to the far back of the room. "Leave my planet at once! You have already had one strike against you with—"

"What's going on?" Caroline asked after she was pushed under the desk, that was in the room's far back corner. Erik slid in beside her while George crouched down in front of them.

"Ssshhh, listen and we may find out what's going on." George said.

Of the known conquerors in the Universe, there were only three that employed Goblins in their staff or army. His uncle was one of the three, while the other two were Honnohai Axisuuk and Fitzuma Kazablum. When he saw the Goblins running into the building that he decided to reside in for a short while, he had figured that the lesser of the three known Goblin employers and commanders, Fitzuma Kazablum, had decided to try to increase his territory and make his name further known. Fitzuma was a relatively young man with just one lone galaxy and three planets in another galaxy to his name; the lone galaxy that was in his possession he had fought for some five hundred years ago while the three planets that he also ruled over were inherited after his father passed away. Honnohai Axisuuk, though a decent conqueror, with four galaxies and a little over two dozen single planets under his control, had retired long ago from the conquering game so he knew that the Goblins weren't under his command.

He and his staff had fought the Goblins. He had injured five while some of his staff had injured two more. The injured Goblins were replaced by others; those fresh-comers had turned the mini-battle to the enemy's favor. Most of the Goblins that came into the building were wearing green or brown-colored military uniforms; the five Goblins that he injured, and the two Goblins that his staff injured, were replaced by Goblins that were wearing tuxedos. He was about to send out a major attack towards a light blue tuxedo-wearing Goblin, who had just entered the building, when the acid was thrown at him. He had gotten the answer to his question on who came to his planet, and on who it was that commanded the Goblins, right after the acid struck him.

"You have no right or permission to be here—leave and leave now!" Master Vile yelled at his uncle, who was standing just inside the room that the Goblins had rushed into. His uncle merely stood in place; he moved not an inch, which infuriated him. He stood up then he threw his arms back; he had no more done so before finding himself rising up, off the floor. He felt his pupils contract as he flew into the room that the humans called the Entrance Hall.

"I need no permission of yours to be here, Nephew." TazirVile said.

"I can very well toss you off Moas and seize—"

His body aching, and burning in more than a dozen places, Lynster struggled to his feet then turned to go to his employer, who was being flung from one side of the Entrance Hall to the other by an invisible force. TazirVile Surfeit, the man who he knew was his employer's uncle, was standing silently in the room that the humans called the Blue Room; his arms were at his sides—they were stationary. The man's head was moving slightly from side to side. The Goblins that were behind TazirVile Surfeit were just standing in place; they were watching in mixed awe at what their employer and commander was doing to the conqueror of the planet that they had entered illegally. Master Vile was flung a total of four times around the Entrance Hall before being released from whatever power his uncle was using; Lynster took two steps towards him then stopped cold in his tracks.

At first, he couldn't believe his eyes! He had to rub his eyes to see if what he was seeing was correct because, if what he was seeing was right, then the two Goblins, that were directly behind his employer's uncle, were none other than the ones that he saw a week ago. He had seen the one that was wearing the light blue tuxedo come out from the bushes that were near the Au am Rhein dump, where he saw Bile in; the brown tuxedo-wearing Goblin was the one that attacked him after he went to retrieve the two cameras that he saw him slip into the bag that he was carrying on him at the time. Lynster backed into the room that his employer was in then, after he was in the room, he turned. He went to his employer quickly. TazirVile Surfeit walked into the hallway that the humans called the Cross Hall after he went into the room. The man paused in the hallway after he stepped into it; he glanced to the left, then he glanced to the right, then he started towards the room that he and his employer were in. Lynster dropped to his employer's side; he looked back in time to see that there were five others coming into the Blue Room—four of the five that were coming into the room looked to be of the Zetakin race while the fifth looked rather young. It looked like she had some Zetakin in her genetic make-up as well.

"Sir, the two men that I saw in Germany a week ago are here." Lynster said after dropping to his employer's side.

"Search the building! I want any and all two-legged beings brought to this room at once." TazirVile Surfeit barked at the Goblins that were behind him. All but seven of the Goblins ran off to begin searching the building.

"The one with the white hair and the one that has short, gray hair sticking out from his ears, those are the—"

Master Vile pushed Lynster to the side harshly; he got to his feet at the same time that he heard two yells and a scream. The two yells and the scream were followed by the sounds of a struggle then Caroline Louise Roberts, George Davis, and Erik Bloomberg were all thrown into the Entrance Hall. Glog Esftu was thrown into the room next; he got to his feet quickly then ran over to where Nygiti, Galong, and Rourke were standing. A line of Goblins formed behind TazirVile Surfeit; most of the line consisted of Goblins that were wearing military uniforms, there were four or five Goblins that were wearing either blue or black tuxedos in the mix as well. Caroline, George, and Erik huddled together near the Grand Staircase; they were too scared to move much less speak. TazirVile looked at the woman that was in the group for only a second; he took note of her eye color before looking away. Lynster glared at the Goblin that attacked him as he got up from the floor; both of the Goblins that he saw a week ago were standing five feet on either side of their employer. The four Zetakin's and the young-looking female, who looked to have some form of Zetakin in her genetic make-up, were standing between the line of military uniform-wearing Goblins and the two Goblins that were on either side of their employer. Lynster was about to call the Goblin that attacked him out when a Goblin, who had puke-green skin, and who was wearing a dark green military uniform, that had three medals on its left breast pocket, walked through the line of Goblins that were between the Cross Hall and the Entrance Hall. The Goblin walked right up to TazirVile Surfeit; he said that the building was clear then he went back to the line.

"For such a large building, that looks to be used for administrative purposes, you sure have staffed it so lowly not to mention, you sure have let it go to shit, Nephew." TazirVile said. There was a pause. No one said a thing for a little while. When the silence went on for a full ten seconds, TazirVile clapped his hands—once, and very loudly. "Now then, shall we get started in getting re-acquainted with one another? I do feel that we haven't seen nor spoken to one another in so long; we must do a catch-up with one another."

"The only thing that you'll be catching is a one-way ticket out of here!" Master Vile roared.

He curled most of his fingers up, into his fist then he threw his arms back. When he heaved them forward, he did so with every ounce of strength that he had. A multi-colored strand of green and black energy shot out from the tips of his index and middle fingers; he expected for the strand to strike his uncle and he expected for the Goblins to either retreat in fear or scatter. His uncle swung his arm; instead of being struck by his attack, and instead of being flung back or being badly injured, he caught and then sent it back. Master Vile jumped back quickly then ran to the side; he threw out a sonic ring, and then a ring of black energy. After sending them two attacks out, he sent out a pink energy swirl. His uncle caught two of the attacks; he absorbed them into himself then he swung his fist. He howled in rage after the black acid that his uncle had just sent his way collided with his side and leg; the rage-howl became a pained one after a glob of red acid struck him on the shoulder. The pink energy swirl, that he sent at his uncle, had hit its intended target. Along with making his uncle yell out in pain, it made him take three steps back.

While his employer was busy fighting off his uncle, Lynster decided to attack the Goblin that attacked him a week ago. He sent out a white energy strand and then an energy ball of the same color; the Goblin, who was obviously not paying any attention to his surroundings, was struck on the side by the energy strand. The white energy strand made him yell out in pain. He turned, then did something that Lynster wasn't expecting afterwards.

The Goblin held his right hand out. He grabbed the white energy ball that came close to striking him then he did nothing more than stand in place. To Lynster, it looked like the Goblin was absorbing the energy ball; Lynster watched in mixed awe as the ball changed color... Went from being white to yellow then to a mixed, yellow-white color. The Goblin that was holding the energy ball had a glaring look on his face but he wasn't scowling or making any other facial expression. Lynster was gearing up to send out another energy ball when the Goblin changed the look on his face. His eyebrows pulled down, as did his eyelids; the left side of his lower lip pulled down in a scowl. After the Goblin changed his facial appearance, he shoved his hand forward. A furious grunt escaped him as the energy ball was sent flying back to its sender. Lynster tried to get out of the way but his attempt was made far too late; the energy ball exploded after it struck him in the abdomen. Lynster flew back a few feet at the same time that his employer was grabbed and then thrown towards the Grand Staircase by an invisible force. Caroline, George, and Erik raced to get out of the way. The two men ran to the left while Caroline tripped and fell to the floor.

"Lucky human on that one," TazirVile said to Caroline after he used his Telekinetic powers to end the fight. After tripping and then falling to the floor, Caroline had flattened herself just as close to the floor as she could. By her doing that, she had saved herself from being knocked out by one of Master Vile's shoes, which barely missed hitting her in the back of the head by a tiny fraction of an inch. After TazirVile spoke to Caroline, he turned his attention to Lynster, who was slowly getting to his feet. "You, my fine man, should know better than to attack a Goblin... especially one who hasn't had his breakfast this morning."

"You will all be subjected for imprisonment and for the seizing of any and all properties and monetary items that you have in any banks in the M-51 Galaxy if you don't leave my planet and now!" Master Vile yelled.

"Under oath, we are protected by our commander." the Goblins said in sync with one another. Erik noticed that the Goblins that were wearing tuxedos had said _employer_ instead of _commander_.

"You and your threats neither worry nor scare any of us," TazirVile said. He then locked his eyes with his nephew's. "We are here for a reason and that, my dear nephew, is to give you a lesson that you will not forget anytime soon."

"A lesson? How about I teach you trespassers a thing or two on how to behave towards your ruler!"

Master Vile threw a pink energy sphere at his uncle then he threw four black-colored energy spirals at the Goblins then he threw a barrage of sapphire-colored orbs at Ashaklar and the men that he knew were Ashaklar's husband and sons. He sent a red energy sphere at the youngster, who he knew was his uncle's only daughter, last—he had decided to be lenient towards her, since he knew she was rather young.

The Goblins worked together in deflecting the energy spirals that were thrown in their direction while one of the sapphire orbs struck Amadh, the second oldest of Ashaklar Ubalki's sons. Ashaklar, Cheshire, and their oldest son deflected the other orbs that were thrown at them while TazirVile deflected the spheres that were thrown at him and his daughter. Before Master Vile could cast out anymore attacks he found himself unable to move. He struggled to get free from the invisible force that had, yet again, grabbed him. He found out very quickly that his struggling was in vain—his uncle had used his Telekinetic powers on him again.

Master Vile felt the odd sensation of feeling himself being picked up. He was thrown up, towards the ceiling, a second later. He found himself hating this power—it gave him the feeling of not being in control of his body. He couldn't move his arms or legs and he couldn't use his powers either. TazirVile used his Telekinetic powers to slam his nephew up against the wall twice. When Master Vile began to cough, he released him.

"I can very well break your neck and not be thrown in jail for it, Nephew!" TazirVile exclaimed. "Harming me is one thing, harming the innocent child of a ruler is quite another."

"You are no ruler here! You are nothing more than—"

"I am a ruler! By conquest of the Vaisha, Andromeda, and the Bula Galaxies I have earned the title of conqueror and ruler and you best respect that!" TazirVile exclaimed.

"In this galaxy and in—"

" _In any galaxy you oaf!_ " TazirVile roared. Caroline watched as the man ran a trembly hand down the front of the black shirt that he was wearing. The shirt's buttons were silver; they went diagonally, from his left shoulder on down to the right side of his waist. The man calmed down considerably after doing that action. "Must I remind you who the child of whom you just tried to attack is or of how I turned the planets within the Andromeda Galaxy upside down in looking for her after I found her missing one day?"

"I know wh—"

"Mr. Modulavich! Speak! Tell everyone in this room who my nephew just tried to attack and what happened after I found her missing one day when she was a small tot."

Despite the fact that she was now sandwiched in-between the four beings that looking like Gray Aliens, Caroline could see the girl very well. The girl, who's name was EshalVile Eskara Surfeit, stood just five foot, four inches. She had light blue skin and very feminine, cat-like eyes that were a pretty green color; there were black pupils in the centers of each of the girl's eyes. When EshalVile Surfeit moved her hand, Caroline was able to see that she had suction cups on the tips of each of her fingers. The girl had a heart-shaped mouth, a small nose, and high cheeks bones set in a pretty face. The girl's hair was long; along with running all the way down her back, it was a pretty light blue color... or, except for the bangs, which were purple.

The girl was wearing a royal blue dress, that had a pleated top. The girl's dress was worn a little loosely; the top half of the dress was closed—the girl's perky breasts could barely be seen because of the looseness of the garment. EshalVile Surfeit had a pair of glittery, royal blue, flat shoes on her feet; she wore no makeup on her face, but she did have a rather pretty, aqua-pearl and rhinestone necklace hanging from around her neck. According to the Goblin, Miss. EshalVile Eskara Surfeit was two thousand, five hundred, and two years old.

The only daughter of TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, the man who came to the planet, and who was assaulting Master Vile for the past ten minutes, was discovered as missing one day when she was three hundred and one years old. Her father had literally tore the Andromeda Galaxy—a galaxy that Caroline knew nothing of—apart in his search for her. He had conquered the Andromeda Galaxy in his search for his young daughter and then, a short time after the conquest, he sired his first son. Miss. EshalVile Eskara Surfeit was the Crown Princess of the Vaisha, Andromeda, and Bula Galaxies, the Goblin claimed. The Goblin also claimed that Miss. EshalVile Eskara Surfeit was the cousin of Master Vile, which would make Mr. TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit Master Vile's uncle. The last thing that the Goblin said surprised Caroline—the man claimed that her planet's heroine, Angel Irene, had adopted Miss. EshalVile Eskara Surfeit a long time ago. Up to that moment in time, both Caroline, George, and Erik thought that Angel Irene had just five children, all of which were sons. To find that she also had a daughter was a shock to all of them.

The Goblin relayed all of this then clamped his mouth shut; he, and the rest of the Goblins, moved not an inch. Caroline, George, and Erik stood up; they looked at Master Vile, who looked about ready to explode, then they looked at the man who's name they knew was TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit. Mr. Surfeit had moved not an inch since the Goblin started relaying all that he knew on his daughter. He was standing as still as a statue but, by the way he looked in the face, they knew that, if he had to move, he would do so. And quickly.

"My lovely wife had my daughter the entire time," TazirVile spoke, taking the story up from where the Goblin left off. "I could of sent the lovely lady to prison for kidnap. I could of killed her for taking my daughter but, by the time my daughter was returned to me, I started to notice sudden... changes between us that lie within emotion. We coupled a week after I conquered the Andromeda Galaxy; our first son was conceived during that coupling."

"Are you quite finished?" Master Vile spat. "No one in this room cares to hear of y—"

"Although I raised and loved Bile Vile, my lovely wife's firstborn son, as one of my own for four hundred years, I didn't formally adopt him until he was four hundred years and six months old. My two, younger sons were conceived after that adoption was finalized." TazirVile Surfeit spoke over his nephew. "I have a total of five children. Five heirs to my kingdoms, and yet here I am with only one at my side and why is that? Mr. Zultoa, speak up! Why is it that I have only one of my five offspring at my side?"

"Because they are here! Seen and photographed and video taped in a known area protected by shields put up over two thousand years before now by your wife." a light blue-skinned Goblin, who had light blue eyes, said in a loud and clear voice. Erik saw that the Goblin was wearing a light blue tuxedo; he also noticed that the Goblin had a lot of wrinkles on his face and that he had a rather long nose that two, large nostrils were housed in.

"You have been on this planet for _five bloody months..._ you've known that they were here yet _you've not told a soul about it!"_ TazirVile shouted. "That is called involuntary kidnap! You've had knowledge of where my sons were for five—"

"One month, Uncle. Not five. I suspected, I didn't—"

"It doesn't matter! You knew and you kept it to yourself!" spit flew out of TazirVile Surfeit's O-shaped mouth; he clinched and then unclinched his fists a few times before walking towards Master Vile. "I have a right in being on this bloody planet! By the ink that's just barely five days old on the reinstated court order that I was given last year by the Elder Courts, I can be on this fucking planet as long as I see fit and you can't do or say a damn thing about it! My sons are on this planet—"

"I'll have that court order so cancelled by the end of this day that—"

"You can do nothing on the court order! I, along with anyone else that's involved, or that's attached to the search for my missing family, are immune to you and any punishments that you'll try to throw at us and I have made damn sure that you aren't allowed to bully-in on giving any of the persons involved in the search for my wife and sons the boot from our homes or in seizing any assets or monies that we own. You will be subjected to hefty fines if you try on the first attempt; the next, you will be subjected to a nice jail cell in Briley's for a hundred years."

"Show me the order that says this!" Caroline noted a hint of nervousness in Master Vile's voice; this made her want to laugh a little. Up to that moment in time, she had never seen the man speak or act nervously.

"In a minute, the first thing that you shall do for me is spill your guts on the whereabouts of my still-missing wife." TazirVile said.

Though she did try, Caroline was hardly able to remember the events of what happened next. After the man named TazirVile Surfeit demanded to know where Angel Irene was, one of the staff that worked loyally for Master Vile lunged towards him in a hostile way. The Goblins worked quickly to push the man—Nygiti, she did believe—back while TazirVile Surfeit simply stood in place. The Goblin that had the short, gray hair sticking out from his ears was lunged at by Lynster; the Goblin beat the man back at the same time that Galong shot a beam of red light towards the Gray Alien-like beings that were standing around EshalVile Surfeit.

Erik Bloomberg's panic seized hold of him at the same time that the Goblins were dealing with Galong and Lynster. He turned, then ran up the Grand Staircase, then made a left turn. Caroline and George Davis followed on his heels. The sounds of the others behind them—the screaming, the yelling, and the sounds of things either breaking or exploding—were loud at first then they dimmed. The carpet that was on the staircase, while resembling the one that ran down the Cross Hall, was in good condition; it wasn't torn or ripped and there were no burn marks on it. Caroline was starting to slow down when she heard something behind her. She turned her head then screamed in panic; as a way to help her become faster, she kicked her heels off. She had just left her shoes behind when her feet touched the landing that came off the Grand Staircase.

"A room... pick a room dammit! We have company behind us!" Caroline screamed.

Erik led the group. He was a good distance from George Davis while Caroline Louise Roberts was nearly a foot behind George; he hadn't a clue as to who it was that was their "company" and he really didn't want to know. At the moment, all he cared about was getting out of the building. Getting away from the alien creatures that were downstairs would be a huge plus for him.

For the past five months, he had been struggling with his health because of everything that was going on. He was lucky to still have the use of his legs—his doctor, about a year and a half ago, had said that he'd be wheelchair-bound in four to six months. While he had yet to be put in a wheelchair, he knew that all of the tension, fear, and nervousness that he had felt over the last couple of months wasn't doing a thing of good for his health. This run from the monsters and aliens that were on the first floor of the White House wasn't very good for his health either but he had already made the decision that health was a luxury at the moment. He was willing to put his whole life on the line and he was sure that there were others who had the same thing on their minds. When there were monsters and aliens running around, causing all matter of disruption, no one person was going to have normal living high up on their list of things to do. Here he was, seventy-one years old, with a severe case of diabetes... his wife was six months fresh in the ground while his younger brother was put in the ground three years prior. Although he wasn't very keen on the idea of passing on in this life and going onto the next he did figure that, if he was to die, it was best to be done when there were only one or two of the alien or monster-like creatures around. He thought that he'd be much happier and less stressed out while leaving the world that he currently knew with that number being around him.

Erik picked a room to run into right when Caroline yelled that the aliens were gaining on them. He grabbed the closest door knob to him then, with a twist, he shoved the door in. He ran into the room that the door belonged to quickly; George and Caroline ran in a few seconds later. George was just grabbing the door to slam it shut when one of the two aliens ran in. George tried to sucker-punch the alien out of the room but, instead of his fist meeting up against the flesh of the alien's face, it met up against the alien's hand. The alien grabbed George Davis's fist then, with a heave, he hurled him across the room.

"Protect your heads!" Erik yelled. He practically dive-bombed to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his head the second he was on the floor.

"Fuck your heads, protect your rectums!" George Davis exclaimed. He backed himself into one of the room's corners.

"Should we interrogate or sit tight and wait for Tazzy, pop?" the alien who came into the room first asked the alien, who was just walking in through the open door.

"I think Tazir has his hands full downstairs, son. Let's lessen his workload in interrogating these three." the other alien replied.

"By invasion or—"

As the two aliens spoke on how they were going to interrogate them, Caroline, Erik, and George got a good look at them. The one who shoved George Davis across the room was pretty tall; he stood six foot, two and a quarter inches and he had dark blue skin that looked to fit his body rather tightly. The alien had an upside down, teardrop-shaped head that sported two large, oval-shaped eyes in its center. The eyes that stared out from the alien's face were a bright silverish-bronze color. There were two holes where a nose would normally be under the alien's eyes; the mouth, that was under them two holes, was O-shaped. The alien had a rather muscular body on him; the thick muscle, that was on his arms, was pretty prominent, despite the fact that he was wearing a white, button down, long sleeve shirt. Besides the white, button down, long sleeve shirt, the alien was also wearing a pair of light brown khakis pants. The alien's shoes were brown, and had dark brown ties on them. Like EshalVile Surfeit, the alien had suction cups on the tips of each of his fingers. Caroline, Erik, and George quickly found out through the other alien that the one that came into the room first was named Efagti; it was obvious to all three of them that the two aliens weren't only related but were father and son.

The alien that had just come into the room that they had followed Erik into had a confident look to him that, in some small way, Caroline found rather attractive. He was tall, about six foot, three inches, and he had dark blue skin. Like the other alien, he had an upside down, teardrop-shaped head. This alien had different shaped and colored eyes—along with being almond-shaped, they were a bright bronze color. The left eye had some sort of monocle over it that had a gold chain connected to it. There were two holes under the alien's eyes where a nose would normally be; an O-shaped mouth was under them two holes. The alien had a lot of muscle on his arms and chest; the rest of him looked rather slender. Like the alien who's name was Efagti, the older alien had suction cups on the tips of each of his fingers.

The older alien was wearing a pair of brown pants and a light brown, long sleeve, button down shirt; he was also wearing a black vest that had brown ties on it. The alien had brown boots on his feet. A gold chain ran out from the left breast pocket of the alien's vest; it ran down to the left pocket of the alien's pants. Caroline guessed that there was some sort of pocket watch attached to the end of the chain. Caroline was about to speak to the two aliens when they turned and looked at her; instead of speaking to the aliens, she took two steps back in fear.

"If you three have any concerns about your employer's well-being let me put them to bed now," the alien that had the monocle over his left eye said. "He may get a beating or two, and he may have a major headache after we leave here, but he'll survive."

"Pound 'em into hamburger meat," George said. "Just leave us be. We want no involvement in any personal issues that you people or he have between yourselves."

"Is it three men that we're speaking with or—"

"Are you implying that I'm a male, Mr. Alien?" Caroline asked. She flashed the alien that wore the monocle a little smile.

"No ma'am, and you may call me Mr. Ubalki, if you wish." the alien replied. "Pardon me for saying this but you do have a rather... unique look to you Miss."

"Mrs., and it's not by my choice." Caroline said back. "The one that should be given credit on my appearance is the creep downstairs."

"More like a douche bag than a creep to me," George commented.

"You three don't seem very loyal to the man," Mr. Ubalki said. He cleared his throat once before going on. "Make our chore a little easier please. We need information on where a woman that you people know as Angel Irene is. We've seen evidence that shows that her sons are on this planet but—"

"Why in blue blazes should we tell any of you frocking aliens where Miss. Irene is?" Erik snapped.

"Miss. Irene is our planet's heroine; why should we help any alien or monster that wishes to do her or her sons harm?" George crossed his arms over his chest; he looked at the two aliens intently while Erik ducked his head back into his arms.

"We don't mean her or her sons any harm," Mr. Ubalki said.

"I don't think speaking cordially is going to work with these three, pop." the other alien said.

"Efagti, sometimes speaking is better then just diving into a situation that's already been put into a stressed state." Mr. Ubalki said to his son. He turned his attention back towards Caroline, Erik, and George. "I'm a rather patient and understanding man. I understand that you three are only wanting to protect your planet's heroine. We mean no harm to the woman that you people know only as Angel Irene—we love her as much as you do... maybe a little more since we're kin to her." Mr. Ubalki paused for a few seconds before going on. "I can promise you three that neither she nor any of her sons will be harmed, we just need to know if she's on this planet and where exactly on this planet she is. You three can help us on that matter in a great many of ways by simply cooperating in saying where she is or if you've seen or heard of her being on this planet."

"Like I'm going to spill intelligence on my planet's heroine to a damn brain-sucking alien that has the word fag in his name." George spat in an aggressive tone. He then locked his eyes with Mr. Ubalki's. "That goes double for you, Mr. Hot-fucking-shot."

That proved to be a very wrong move on George's part. Although Caroline and Erik agreed with George, they did wish that he wouldn't of worded what he said in such a way. As the alien known as Efagti was using his Telekinetic powers to force George Davis up against the wall, so he could use his Telepathic powers to search the man's mind for any clues as to where Angel Irene was, and as the alien known only as Mr. Ubalki was doing the same with Erik Bloomberg, and as a throng of Goblins were holding Master Vile down so TazirVile could search his mind with his Telepathic powers, and as Caroline Louise Roberts was screaming and then shrinking back into one of the corners of the room that she had followed George and Erik into, Angel Irene was driving like a maniac down an empty motorway in south Germany. The last thirty-five minutes were hell for her; the gondola shelf, that fell on her soon after the quake started, had remained on her for all of ten minutes before someone came over to help her in getting it off. After the gondola shelf was lifted from her, she found herself as having a hard time in getting out of the building that she had been working in for nearly two months. There was a lot of debris in the aisles; she had found herself as having to pick her way out of the store slowly and carefully. People were more than a little scared; they were plumb terrified and she understand that fully. She was terrified too.

She wasn't the only one that was pinned underneath something in the U-Krop-It building during that early-morning earthquake; nearly everyone that was in the store was pinned underneath something. The people that weren't pinned underneath something did all that they could in helping the ones that were trapped; the reason behind her being trapped under the gondola shelf for so long was because she was in the way back of the building. If she was more up near the front, or in the center of the building, she would of been helped earlier. After having the gondola shelf heaved from her body, she scrambled up then went straight for the building's front doors. The going was difficult; there was a lot in the way to slow her down. It had taken three or four minutes before she was able to get out of the building and then get to her car. Once she was in her car, she started going into a new panic. The key was pushed into the ignition then she sped off; her kids were the only thing on her mind at the time.

The store that she started working at in August had dropped two of its former employees a few days ago, and two others had gotten sick. There was a need for four others to work overtime just to keep things running smoothly and the manager had set his sights on her for one of them overtime slots. She had tried to get out of it by saying that she was needed to be at home with her boys; her boss would hear none of it. He had threatened to fire her if she didn't come in for her scheduled overtime and, since she was the parent, and the adult of the family, and since someone in the family did need to be working full-time, she had reluctantly agreed to take the job. If she had known about this early-morning quake she would of told her boss to shove the overtime job up his ass. She would of stayed home to make sure that her sons were safe. What happened after the quake started? Had her children been smart enough to get out of the house? Had Bile and Lhaklar helped Hazaar, who had a right bad limp due to a chipped bone in his hip, and some bruising of the bone in his knee? Had Bile and Lhaklar helped Lazeer and Guyunis out of the house? Had her two, older sons helped each other in getting out of the house and were they doing their best to keep them all safe and calm in this situation? Bile and Lhaklar were the older of her five sons; although they had a lot of responsibility on their shoulders in keeping everyone and everything in the house in order, and in keeping their younger brothers safe when she wasn't at home, she knew that they were young, and inexperienced, and she also knew that they were probably scared out of their minds about what was going on.

She had tried to teleport after getting out of the U-Krop-It building; when she found herself unable to, she decided that driving—or speeding—was the best way to get home. She was intent on doing just that; no one, cop or otherwise, was going to stop her. No cop was going to pull her over or ask for her license and registration; she was just going to speed on through to home. The gas pedal was nearly down to the floorboard of the car; the speedometer dial was at 85 MPH. She wished that the car's maximum speed went over that.

The motorway that she was just leaving behind had maybe two or three cars parked on its sides; the town roads that she was now speeding down were empty—that saved her from slowing down. There were people on the sides of the road; either running or just plain standing around in little groups of four or five. She saw that several of the side-road lingerers were wearing military uniforms—that spooked her something awful! Why were their people of the military on the sides of the road? Had something happened? Had the German government declared martial law or were the military there to prevent looting? None of the military people flagged her down. A few people turned to look at her, but no one bothered her as she sped along. She was glad for that. None of the buildings that she drove by had power; the road that she was driving down was as black as night thanks to there being no power for the pole lamps to be run on. It was nearing forty minutes since the quake's start; power had yet to reset itself after it went down. As she turned onto the stretch of road that ran into the neighborhood that the house that Stefan Leinart had generously purchased for her and her sons was in, another thought ran itself through her head.

Had her sons been wise in staying together after getting out of the house, or had they decided to split up? Had Bile and Lhaklar kept everyone together—had they asked one of the neighbors if they could stay with them for a short while before she returned home? Her biological sons had gone through earthquakes before... but not of the magnitude of the one that had just happened. She was sure that they were all scared—who in their right mind wouldn't be? She was scared to death but the main reason for her fear to be as high as it was was because she didn't know what was going on with her children. The thought of a possible space intruder coming to the planet never ran through her mind. The thought of her Universal Husband making a rather spectacular entrance to the planet never ran through her mind. As it was, she had nearly forgotten about the dark gray snow that was falling from the sky. The air was heavy; she had coughed once or twice during her mad race home but she hadn't really thought about it. There was about two and a half feet of dark gray snow on the road that she was driving down; her car threatened to turn off twice, which added more fear to what she was already feeling. She was just reaching the middle part of the street that the house, that she and her sons had been living in for two months, was on when the power started to blink on in the houses. She heard a cheer rise up from the people that lived in the neighborhood—did five of them cheers belong to her sons? Angel was just passing by the house that was four houses from the one that she and her sons lived in when her car died. She wasted no time after her car died on her; the driver's side door was thrown open then she leaped out. She ran the rest of the way to the house. When she reached the corner of the yard that the house was built on, she turned. She ran through the blanket of dark gray snow right to the front door... which was wide open.

" _Bile...!"_ she screamed at the top of her lungs after running into the house, which was right cold, quiet, and still. " _Bile! Lhaklar! Guyunis! Hazaar! Lazeer!_ "

The light switches were turned on maniacally as she went through the house. There was glass all over the red carpet that ran through most of the house, and most of the furniture that was in the house was moved from where it was placed two months ago. The 40" big screen tv had, miraculously, remained above the gas-powered fireplace but most of the photographs that she put around the front of the fireplace were now on the floor. All of the photographs that she put on the living room walls were on the floor; the photographs that were on the walls, that were on either side of the stairs, were also on the floor. She didn't bother to stop to pick any of them up; she went to the house's second level then she started looking in the rooms that her sons had probably been in when the quake started. She went into Guyunis's room first; she looked around then, when she saw that he wasn't in it, she ran out. She went across the hall to Hazaar's room then she checked Lhaklar's, Lazeer's, and then Bile's rooms next. All of the rooms had things on their floors—her sons' hunting trophies, some CDs, some magazines, and plenty of glass from the windows that exploded—but none of them had her sons in them. Her sons weren't at home. They were out of the house...

Angel tore down the stairs then ran out of the house. She looked around for a short while before turning and then running across the yard towards the house that the Klied's lived in. Mitzi and Kurt Klied's house was lit up and there looked to be people moving about in it. Did they know where her sons were? Had they seen her sons or had they just looked after their own? Angel ran to the residence's front door then knocked on it loud and hard. The door was answered half a minute later by a woman who, at first, she didn't recognize.

"Miss. Irene..." Mitzi Klied sighed quite loudly after answering the door.

"Hello, I'm sorry for making this quick but I'm looking for my sons." Angel said. "I had to work overtime tonight; I couldn't be here with them and I couldn't come home until now. Do you know where my boys are, they're—"

"Right here," Mitzi said. She grabbed Angel by the wrist then pulled her into the house quickly. "Things were a bit hectic after... after what happened but we were able to coax them into our home."

"Are they—"

"My husband did treat some injuries on them; two of your sons really can't walk well but they're fine. Just worried to a frazzle about you—that's really all that's wrong with them." Mitzi said.

Forty-three minutes... it seemed more like an eternity to her but it had really only been forty-three minutes since the quake stopped and the snow started to fall. Naturally, everyone in the neighborhood was scared to a panic but everyone had helped each other and there were no fights or sightings of robberies. Naturally, the first thing that happened after everyone calmed down from their fears was to check to see if everyone was okay. Her husband went around the neighborhood with a small first aid kit to help those in need of medical attention while she checked on the neighbors that were on her stretch of the street.

The Abbing's were fine, just very badly shaken up. By the time she went over to see how the Carver's were fairing, they had left; they piled into one of their cars then went to stay with relatives for a while. The Basinger's were fine, so were the Dreyfusses and the Geller's. The Fayner's had already started cleaning up their house while the Bluhm's had simply been sitting out on their front porch. The Benz's and the Wulff's hadn't been at home while Miss. Schmidt and her fiancé, Mr. Kaiser, were debating on whether to stay or leave for Mr. Kaiser's parents' house that was a few miles away. The Maurer's were scared but they assured her that they would be fine. After checking the neighborhood, she started the walk home. While on the way home, she happened on one of the Irene kids—he was running down the street in a panicked sort of way. The poor kid had only stopped running after she grabbed him; not only had he been shivering in cold but he had also had a wound to the side of his head that was bleeding quite profusely. She took him to her house, then told him to calm down and then sit on the couch, then went over to the old Kaufer house to see if the other Irene kids were okay.

The rest of the Irene kids were down in the basement. Blankets were wrapped around them; most of them were injured. She coaxed them over to her place then she let her husband take over in tending their wounds. The older boy was the luckier of the five; Kurt only had to treat him for the cuts that were on his feet and for the open wound that was on his left elbow. Lhaklar, the second oldest of the five, had some bruises on his chest, stomach, and ribs; her husband had only looked at those. The head-wound that the kid had to the right side of his head was bandaged; Kurt had wanted the kid to go to the hospital—to get some stitches put in his head, to close up the gash—but the kid had refused to do so.

The worst injury of the bunch was probably owned by Guyunis, the third oldest of the Irene kids. His right knee had swelled to twice its size; he could hardly walk on it. Kurt had diagnosed the young man as having a possible fracture of the knee bone; he had wanted to send the kid to the hospital but the kid had said that he wasn't going anywhere without his bruders or his mutter. Kurt, after leaving the kid with some ice bags, went on to checking the next kid. Hazaar, the second youngest of the Irene kids, had three broken fingers on his left hand and two broken fingers on his right hand and he also had some issues with his ribs. Kurt said that the kid either had some cracked or bruised ribs. Hazaar had a rather difficult time walking and the reason for that was because of a pre-existing injury to his left hip and knee.

Although Guyunis had the worst injury of the five boys, the youngest of the five had an injury on him that was just as bad. Lazeer had a diagonal gash that went across his left eye... he had some cuts on the soles of his feet too. Kurt had taken one look at the gash before saying that the only thing he could do was wrap a thin layer of bandaging over it to stop it from bleeding. Lazeer would need stitches—since the wound was on such a delicate area on the kid's face, her husband hadn't had the nerve to stitch it up himself. Like Lhaklar and Guyunis, Lazeer refused to go anywhere without his bruders or his mutter. She had taken the Irene kids to her and her husband's living room. They were still there. They hadn't moved an inch after she coaxed them over to her place. The boys were scared, which was normal, and they were hurting, which was also normal, and they were also worried to death about their mum.

"We've been in the dark for nearly forty minutes," Mitzi said. "I found four of your sons in the basement of your house; they had blankets around them. I found Lhaklar first—I was on my way home from checking on the neighbors; he was running down the street. He said something about looking for a cat; wouldn't be surprised if he ran off to look for you, though."

"Lhaklar was out running in the street?" Angel exclaimed in a whisper.

"Yes, the others seemed rather happy to see him. A cat was found near here and his bruders have confirmed his story of running off in pursuit of a cat." Mitzi replied. "Guyunis has the cat now—he does say that it's his."

"They've been through earthquakes before," Angel said. "But never of this... of this magnitude. This is my first experience as well. I've never gone through something like this before."

After leading her neighbor into her living room, Mitzi stood in the background while she went forward to check on her kids. Most of the kids had fallen asleep; Guyunis was the only one awake. He shot up from the couch the second he saw his mutter. Miss. Irene went to him; after hugging him, she told him to sit down, which he did. Miss. Irene went from one of her children to the next; she woke them up gently, she gave them hugs, then she told them that everything was okay and that she was there now. Mitzi knew that she would be doing the same thing—if she was somewhere else, away from her two daughters, and a quake like the one that happened over forty minutes ago occurred, she would of been scared half to death. Miss. Irene was conducting herself well; if it had been her in Miss. Irene's shoes, she would of been grabbing each of her children up in tight hugs. She might plant a few kisses on her daughters' cheeks and she might fuss over them to see if they were alright. Miss. Irene was approaching the situation in a very calm way so not to aggravate any of the injuries that her sons had on them and so not to make her sons grow upset or become embarrassed.

When Miss. Irene was done checking over her sons, and telling them that she was there, and that everything was going to be alright, she turned around. Mitzi had only to look at the face of her neighbor to know that she was going to ask her something.

"I know it may be a burden but, do you think I can leave them here for an hour or two?" Angel Irene asked. "I need to get the house cleared of all the glass that's in it and I also need to see about getting the house warmed up some. I'll probably also need to do a catching session on the other animals that my boys have brought into the house these past few weeks."

"I have no problem in their staying here. I'll make sure that they stay safe." Mitzi said. "My husband and daughters went out just ten minutes ago to look for our dog so I understand about the escaped pets thing. The neighborhood pets got just as scared as we did. I wouldn't be surprised if I see missing pet signs and posters on fence posts or in shop windows later on today."

"Thank you, I hope your husband and daughters find your dog soon." Angel Irene said. She then turned to her sons. "You five behave yourselves. I'll only be an hour or two, try to get some sleep."


	18. Chapter 18

"Mr. President, the latest just came in from the chief on the situation that's going on just outside of Rastatt." Lise Raskop, a woman of medium-height, who had dark blonde hair and dark blue eyes, said as she walked into Stefan Leinart's office.

Stefan Leinart, who was trying to work on some of the paperwork that he was given earlier that day, looked up after his secretary walked into his office. The man slid the paperwork to the side then stood up from the black leather swivel chair, that was behind his dark brown wooden desk. Since his arms were a little stiff, he did a little stretch to loosen the bones and muscles that were in them. After stretching, he walked around his desk. Lise, on instinct, gave the man the folder that she had in her hand when he reached her. She stood back while the man, who won the presidency eight months ago, went over to where one of the room's windows were—like the other windows in the building, both of the windows that were in her employer's office had new panes in them. The windows, like the others that were in the building, had exploded during the earthquake that happened seven days ago. Stefan opened the folder then began the process of looking through the papers that were in it. It was a few minutes before he turned around. He closed the folder with a sigh then went back to his desk.

"I asked for one drone to be sent out to check into the situation, not three. Why did Ajeet Ballal send out three?" Stefan Leinart asked after taking a seat behind his desk.

"I'm not really sure why the third one was sent out; the second drone was sent out after the first was shot down." Lise said. Stefan looked at her in surprise.

" _Shot down_? By whom? Did the drone—"

"The last image that the chief says he saw on the screens was of some Troll-like creature pointing a strange gun at the drone." Lise said. "The creature just aimed and fired; the drone went down a second or two later. It practically exploded."

"Any explanation as to why it exploded?" Stefan asked. "Why did a second drone get sent out?"

"No sir; the second drone was sent out after the sun had set. The chief had hoped that the drone wouldn't be seen." Lise replied.

"Was it? Did this second drone capture anything?"

"Not much—two creatures that looked like the taller form of the Gray Aliens of folk lore and a bunch of Troll-like creatures setting up some sort of weird, crystal-like lights that floated above the snow." Lise replied. She then added. "A news agency captured the fall of the third drone."

"What happened to the second drone?" Stefan asked. "What caused the third drone to fall?"

"We're not sure on the second drone, sir. It just disappeared." Lise answered. "The third drone was taken down by a strange ship that showed up earlier this morning—the ship just barreled into it as if it was nothing."

"Ship? What _ship_?" the look, that was on Stefan's face, said it all for his secretary; he was very alarmed over what she had just told him.

"The drone didn't get any good footage of it—the ship came out of nowhere." Lise said. "The KLB9 News did capture footage of the ship, though. It had a skull on it that was surrounded by a pretty thick, silver coil."

Stefan gave the folder a look before reaching his hand up; his orange-brown hair was already a mess from his not running a comb or a brush through it for five days, he messed it up more by running his hand through it. He, as of the last five days, had been living in his office. He hadn't left the Chancellery building for five, long days and the reason for that was partly because of the surplus workload that was being thrown his way after the surprise earthquake that happened on the second of October, at 2:27 a.m. UTC—which, he shockingly realized, was a week ago. Besides having to sign help relief forms, that would send a generous amount of money to the people that lived in his country, that seriously needed it to help pay for repairs to their homes, he had to also sign forms for certain streets and/or sidewalks that were damaged during the quake to be repaired. The last help relief form that he signed went to the smaller owned businesses that were damaged by last week's quake. He had signed a bill that would increase the country's security and he had also signed the order forms for Ajeet Ballal, an Indian man, who was both German-born and the Chief of the Staff of the Federal Armed Forces, to begin looking into the little-known situation that was going on a little under four miles from the city of Rastatt.

He and his family, like most of the other families that resided in his country, that were affected by the earthquake, were at home. He, his wife, and their three children were all safe and sound and asleep in their beds when the first tremors were felt. After the initial fear-period passed, he got down to business in getting his family out of the house. He carried his wife, who had their youngest child in her arms at the time, down the stairs and then out of the house. His two daughters were right behind him; he hadn't had to go back into the house for them, which was a huge relief off his shoulders. The family dog and cats were currently missing; the last he heard, his wife and kids were still looking for them.

The first thing that he did, after getting to the Chancellery, then getting started on the mountain of paperwork that piled up high on his desk, was give the order for all of the country's schools to be closed for maintenance checks. Naturally, all of his country's children were glad about that. The parents of the country's children, the next generation, were relieved in knowing that they weren't sending their kids to a possibly unstable school-building. Most of the schools were reopened; only a dozen were damaged during the quake. The children that went to the schools that were damaged during last week's quake were now being bused to a school that wasn't damaged by the quake that was near to their homes.

The first question, that was asked by the planet's people, revolved around where the earthquake came from and if it was a hint towards something bigger that had yet to happen. The phone in his office was practically glued to his ear for the first two days of his residency in the Chancellery; the country's best known scientists and seismologists and the folk of his country's military were at his ear for all of forty-eight hours—a lot of information was garnered or passed around thanks to his phone being plastered to his ear.

The scientists and seismologists that he spoke with had said that the earthquake's cause and lifespan was very different than the normal ones that were experienced; there was either no seismic activity noted on the seismic equipment, that was scattered across the European and Eurasia continents, or, if there was any, it was of the normal sort. The pressure that the known fault lines generated was normal; there were no signs or warnings about such an upcoming, catastrophic, full-planetary quake happening. The scientists that he spoke with were also baffled about the strange weather that started happening after the earthquake stopped; a dark gray snow had started to fall right after the quake stopped and it continued to snow for all of a week before stopping. The sun came out and the snow just evaporated; there was no more snow on the ground now, which was strange as there was nearly five feet of the stuff on the ground earlier. Germany wasn't the only nation to experience the dark gray snow; the nations all around the planet had experienced it. Not once had the snow changed color—it had piled up rather quickly. On the 4th of October, two days after the earthquake happened, efforts for earthquake Clean-Up were slowed up by the snow. On estimate, only two hundred roads were accessed and maybe two hundred homes were inspected and then repaired on that day. Of the two hundred roads that were accessed, only thirty were repaired thanks to the snow.

The snow was studied by the country's top scientists; he had paid special attention to their studies. Thanks to his phone being plastered to his ear for all of two days, he had learned that the snow contained elements of Trioxygen—a commonly pale-blue gas that had a distinctively pungent odor. The scientists that studied the snow had said that they were clueless as to why the snow contained Trioxygen; naturally, the snow was deemed as being abnormal... surprisingly, the scientists that he spoke with had said that it was slightly harmful to people who had sensitive respiratory systems. The scientists that he spoke with went on to checking the strange weather phenomenon's that were showing up in Africa, Europe, China, Japan, and Egypt after checking the snow out.

Once the snow stopped falling, and the sun came out, it took just six hours for it to all melt. The snow melt was causing a lot of trouble!

Most of the wildlife that was on the other side of the shield had fled his country. With the weather taking a turn for the worse on the 5th of October, the healthy, fit animals had all up and left for a more warmer, safer location. The temperatures on the 5th of October had dropped to nearly ten below; the snow that was already on the ground, and that was on the roofs of houses and business buildings, had froze up. The window-less hospitals and medical clinics had looked to be doing well on medical supplies before the 5th of October; when people started showing up with extreme frost bite and other cold-weather related injuries and ailments, medical supplies started dwindling. Some of the smaller medical clinics and hospitals had started to ambulance their current patients to other hospitals just to make room for the new patients that were coming in. The help relief forms that he signed on the 4th had only just started being sent out; he had found himself demanding that the medical supply stocks, that were in the warehouses, that were in North Germany, be distributed to the hospitals and medical clinics that needed them most. His military and security detail had done that as quickly as they could. As if all of that wasn't bad enough, on the same day that the temperature dropped to ten-below, his people started to panic after the sky was blackened by the birds. The birds had followed the healthy, fit animals that left for safer, warmer pastures.

The Rhine river, along with all of its tributaries, and all of the other rivers, creeks, and streams that were in his country, had overflown their banks after the snow did its record-breaking melt. The animals that weren't able to leave the area—either because of their advanced age or because of some pre-existing or just-made injury—had done their best to find ground that was solid; he had seen several clips on the news about how the remaining Roe deer population was nearly swallowed up by a quagmire. A Eurasian Lynx had just barely made its way out of one of the deep quagmires that was south of his location; local wildlife groups were actually leaving the protection of the shields that were around the cities and towns of his country to rescue deer and other wildlife that were getting stuck in the mires. As if the quick melting snow turning the ground into soupy quagmires, and the rivers, creeks, and streams overflowing their banks wasn't bad enough, there were plenty of reports in the local newspapers about the thousands of fish that were being seen as floating on the surface of their river, creek, and stream homes. The sediment that was on the bottoms of the rivers, streams, and creeks was being forced to the surface by the turbulent waters; that was causing the fish to suffocate.

Besides having to read over and then sign help relief forms, and besides his high interest in the studies over the quake that everyone on the planet had felt, he had a rather high interest in the strange weather that the scientists had looked into after studying the snow. According to the men that he spoke with on the phone, there were signs of late-season hurricanes and typhoons forming in the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans and there were signs of very powerful storm systems moving across Africa, Egypt, China, and Japan. It had either gotten very cold or very hot everywhere else; again, the scientists didn't know why this was happening.

Other than writing out and then signing forms for earthquake-related damage relief and for Winter Weather Relief, and keeping one of his ears open to what the scientists were finding out with the sudden change in the weather, he was also having to keep an ear and an eye open on what was going on with the campsite that was discovered nearly four miles from the city of Rastatt. A group of three hunters, who were out, looking for some deer meat, had come upon the camp three days ago. The three men that were in the group claimed that, as soon as they came upon the camp, they were chased off. Naturally, this was reported to the Rastatt polizei, who turned turned the report over to the military. The report was sent to him swiftly afterwards. He gave the order for one, unmanned drone to be flown out to see what the camp and its inhabitants looked like. He was just now finding that, instead of just one drone being sent out, three were sent out and that, of those three sent drones, two were destroyed while another was missing.

What was worse than a full-planetary earthquake and a week's worth of snowfall that had traces of a gaseous form in it that was harmful to civilians who had respiratory problems? Why, a possible hostile group of aliens that decided to land their craft near a city that had a high population count in it.

"How many news broadcasts have been run on the camp?" Stefan asked his secretary. He hadn't been able to watch anything on the news for nearly twelve hours.

"Four or five, sir. Not many; only one news station had the nerve to leave the protection of the shields to get close-up footage and that was KLB9." Lise replied.

" _What!_ "Stefan exclaimed. He sat upright with this piece of news. Up to that moment, he had figured that all of the news agencies were capturing their footage of the camp from inside the shields. "I want that stopped! After the inhabitants of that c..."

Instead of finishing what he was in the middle of saying, he grabbed the phone from his desk then started punching the first four-digits for the cable network that handled the link-ups for the local news stations. He had no more started punching the number in before slamming the phone down on its base unit—he had accidentally pressed a wrong button.

Before picking the phone up again, Stefan took a deep breath in; when he picked the phone up for a second try a few seconds later, he had better success. He got the number dialed then he waited for the operator. When the operator, a woman who sounded rather young, picked up he told her who he wanted to talk to. The operator put him on hold as she switched the communications boards. In the five minutes that he was forced to wait for the head honcho of the local KLB9 News to pick up his end of the phone, he thought about the seriousness of the situation that was in front of him. A Troll-like creature was already noted as taking one of the drones down; it was already noted that the inhabitants of the camp that was nearly four miles from the city of Rastatt were hostile so who said that the Troll-like creatures that were in the camp wouldn't aim their guns at innocent civilians? He shuddered with the thought of hearing or seeing on the news about one, or possibly more than one, of the Troll-like creatures injuring or possibly killing one of the people that he governed over. He was just giving his head a slight shake when Franz Gottschalk, the head honcho of the KLB9 News, picked up the phone.

"Hello from the KLB9 News—my name is Franz Gottschalk, how may I help you?"

"Hello Mr. Gottschalk, it's Stefan Leinart. How've you been?" Stefan started the conversation cordially, so not to make the man that he was talking to angry. Franz Gottschalk was known for two, very important things: He was a business man who liked to take chances and he had a rather bad temper—the man flew off the handle at just about anything.

"Mr. Leinart, nothing much going on with me. Just doing my best to get the best scoop and then put the best stories on the air in record time before the other networks do." Franz said back. "How've you been, is this call on business or pleasure?"

"Honestly, it's a business call." Stefan replied. Since he didn't want Franz to know how he was or what he was doing, he left the question of how he was unanswered. "I'm told that you've been sending people from your news agency out of the shield just to capture a good story on the camp that's near Rastatt; that true, or was I told false information?"

"Tis true my good man! The people have a right in knowing what's going on and, since my station is the only one that has the balls of a bull, we're bringing them the juicy bits of a damn good story." Franz said in a near excited tone of voice that annoyed Stefan to a T. "We're the only news agency that captured the falling of a drone and the appearance of an alien spacecraft that looked—"

"You sound as if what you and your agency is doing isn't dangerous." Stefan said, effectively cutting Franz off.

"Seems pretty safe; except for that one aircraft being run into by an alien craft, we haven't seen anything hostile going on within the camp." Franz said. Stefan felt his temper gauge go up into the orange category.

"Safe? Look here, Mr. Gottschalk, that camp and its inhabitants are far from safe. I've got reports of them Troll-like creatures taking down highly expensive pieces of flying equipment. I've got reports of civilian hunters being chased after they come upon the camp and I've got reports of highly expensive flying equipment going missing after it goes over that camp." Stefan said in a serious tone of voice that had hints of anger in it. "That camp is nowhere near safe; if you and the people that work for you need a story then you best—"

"People have a right in knowing what's going on, Stefan." Franz said. "You can't deny them of—"

"I _can_ when it comes to _potentially_ dangerous _alien beings_!" Stefan nearly yelled. "Franz, have you been in the dark the past five and a half months? We don't know if them alien creatures that were noted as being in that camp are working in co-hoots with Master Vile; for all we know, the cretin that took over the Americas phoned in some sort of back-up in an attempt to get into the shields so he can take over this part of the planet."

"I haven't been in the dark—I know what's going on in the Americas with that alien monster." Franz said. He cleared his throat rather noisily before going on. "Look, you captured my attention on the flying equipment that was either shot down or went missing after it came upon that camp. Do you mind if I run a story on that? Can I quote y—"

"No, you may not." Stefan answered quickly. "I'm going to tell you this once and only once, if I find that you've sent people from your news agency outside of the shield for a story that could well get them killed or captured you will find yourself sitting in a jail cell for endangerment of lives and possibly murder."

" _You can't do that!_ "Franz exclaimed. "You can't—"

"Send your people outside of the shields again and you _will_ find out how much _I am_ able to do." Stefan said. He hung the phone up then sat back in his chair.

"Is there anything else that you wish for me to bring or get for you, Mr. Leinart?" Lise asked a minute and a half after her boss ended his conversation with Franz Gottschalk.

Since it was nearing lunch hour, he asked his secretary if she could bring him a Mocha Oreo shake and a thing of pretzel sticks, which she said she would. The second she was out of his office, he grabbed the folder that was given to him seventeen minutes ago. The folder, a dark blue leather one that had a hasp lock on its side, had a few photographs in one of its flaps that he was now pulling out. He had only looked at the hand-written and typed material; he had yet to take-in the photographs.

As he looked through the photographs, he began to think about the other events that happened in the week that followed the earthquake that Europe and Eurasia's scientists and seismologists had dubbed a "Freak" due to its peculiar characteristics—such as the multi-colored sky lightning, and the snow that started falling after the quake quieted down, and, of course, the fact that most of the damage that was noted to residential housing, educational, and business buildings had been the sudden explosion of nearly everything that had glass in it. The windows that were in his and his family's house had all exploded inwards; so too had their picture frames, the china that was in the china cabinet, and the glass collectibles that his wife had collected over the years. Like with the windows of his abode, the windows in the Chancellery had also burst inwards... so had the other glass-made items in the building. Other than the windows and anything else made of glass being destroyed or damaged, there were around fifteen hundred housing and business buildings discovered with foundation problems. All of this caused by that damn quake.

Newspaper and mail delivery was put to a halt for two whole days after the earthquake occurred; when the newspapers started being distributed again, they ran stories like crazy on the earthquake, the crazy snowfall, and on all the other fine events that happened the day after the earthquake shook the entire planet. According to the newspaper that Lise Raskop gave him on the 5th of October, over five hundred patients were admitted to window-less hospitals or medical clinics for treatment of earthquake-related injuries within one hour of the quake's conclusion. At first, it had just been minor injuries such as gashes, scrapes, scratches, and bruises that were treated then, twelve hours after the earthquake occurred, people with serious to critical injuries started coming in. On estimate, there were somewhere around three thousand broken arms or legs, a little over a thousand sprained ankles, and somewhere around five hundred or so broken wrists treated at hospitals and medical clinics all over Europe, Eurasia, and the island nations. The injuries that included glass being found in the patient couldn't be tallied; there were too many of those types of injuries to really make a full-on count. Naturally, he had asked that the medical facilities' windows be replaced first and quickly just so the patients that were coming in for medical treatment wouldn't gain worse ailments such as common colds, pneumonia, or influenza.

The camp that was a little under four miles from the city of Rastatt was seen on the 6th of October; its discovery was written in the papers, and it was also mentioned on the local news stations, but, both the newspapers and local news stations had, thankfully, been left in the dark about one, key element that happened on the same day. Reports had started being made about Troll-like creatures walking into the shield that was around Rastatt about two hours after the three hunters were run off. The low-end of the reports claimed that only five Trolls were seen as walking into the shield; the high-end of the reports claimed that as many as twenty Trolls were seen as either walking or running through the shield. As soon as he got them reports, he sent out a military squad of around fifty to check the city for the reported Troll-invaders and, sure enough, his squad came upon and then chased off ten Trolls, who had simply been walking about the city.

There was something written in the books about how a Troll-like species was able to penetrate the shields; a Gray Alien-like being had led an assault on a town named Angel Grove, which was located in the North American state of California. That same alien was about to lead another assault on another town called Stone Canyon a few days—or was it weeks?—later. He had yet to do a brush-up on the chapter in the history books that the Trolls were mentioned in but, from general, fragmented, memory, he did remember that a Troll-like species could get into the shields with little or no trouble at all. On the same day that the Trolls were chased out of the city of Rastatt, he gave the order for Ajeet Ballal to send out one drone that could be controlled via remote control; Mr. Ballal had sent out two other drones without asking him for permission. Them drones were not cheap by any means! They cost his country around two mil. just to be manufactured and then equipped with all their little imagery devices; the two destroyed drones had cost his country four million euros while there was another two million still not accounted for in the one missing drone.

While he remembered all of that, he looked at the photographs that he removed from the folder; the first one showed the little fucker who was responsible for taking the first drone that was sent out down. The Troll-like creature was holding a bizarre-looking gun that had a fine point to it; he looked to be rather short in stature—around four foot, six or seven inches tall. He had stringy hair that looked blond and, curiously, he was wearing a green military uniform. The date that was on the photograph's bottom left corner said that it was taken at exactly 11:09:45 a.m. UTC on October 6, 4100. The second photograph showed the camp in full; there was a kite-shaped spaceship in the center of the camp. It had a strange alien skull on its front; the forked tongue, that was coming from the ship's painted-on alien skull, gave the skull a gruesome appearance. The owner of the camp had made both a wise and an unwise decision on camp-picking; the kite-shaped ship was situated right between the Rhine river, the Altrhein or Old Rhine, and the Gäns-Rhein—the latter a river that ran off the Murg river. He knew from experience that this particular area was a hot-spot for hunting and fishing and river recreational sports but, at the moment, it was a right dangerous location because of the overflow that was coming off the Rhine and Murg rivers. Like the photograph of the Troll that had the gun, the photograph of the camp was taken on October 6, 4100; it was taken a full ten seconds before the drone photographed the Troll.

The next four photographs had more Trolls in them. They were taken at the same time; at 06:45:09 p.m. UTC, on the 6th of October. Like Mrs. Raskop had said, the Trolls that were in the photographs were putting up some sort of weird, floating, crystal-like lights that had a thin beam of yellow light coming out from their sides. Curiously, all of the Trolls that were in the four photographs were wearing tuxedos. Two of the depicted Trolls were wearing brown tuxedos; three more were wearing white or light-colored tuxedos; the two other depicted Trolls were wearing plain, black tuxedos. Except for the general noting of the tuxedos, Stefan didn't pay much attention to the basic physical appearances of the Trolls. He placed them photographs down then he picked the ones that had the two, tall beings that resembled Gray Aliens in them. The two, Gray Alien-like beings looked a little similar to one another; they were tall and it looked like most of their physical characteristics were the same. The one on the right had dark blue skin while the one on the left had light blue skin. The alien that was to the right of the photograph was wearing a pair of blue pants that seemed formal, a white t-shirt, and either black or brown shoes. The other alien seemed to be wearing a rather wild-in-design tuxedo—something that he'd never wear, even if his life depended on it. The light wasn't very good in the photographs that had the Gray Alien-like beings in them; the last photograph that he looked at showed the alien that was wearing the strange tuxedo with his arm out. There was either something clear coming out from the alien's hand or the camera that was on the drone had a malfunction of some type. Stefan was just placing the photograph of the alien that was swinging his arm out down on his desk when his cellular phone began ringing.

"Hello?" he said after flipping the top of his phone up.

"Daaaat!" he nearly had to hold the phone away from his ear; it was his middle-child, Thede, who was ten years old, on the other end.

"Hello Thede," he said. "how's it going at home?"

"Okay, I guess. Mum and Annelise found the cats and the dog; all of the windows have glass in them again." Thede replied. "Mum used the vac and the cleaner on the carpets, we're all stuck in the kitchen for a while."

"Sounds like everything's doing well over there." he said.

"It is sooooo boring!" Thede moaned. "There's nothing to do but watch the yard grow wetter and muddier, dat. Rainmund has some cards to play with but even _he_ is bored."

"That s—"

"Annelise says that you have Miss. Irene's number; she says that Miss. Irene can make the ground go from being wet to dry. Can you call Miss. Irene up then ask her to dry our yards? I wanna go out and play." Thede begged.

"Thede—although Miss. Irene would gladly do what you just asked me to ask her to do for you, just to make you feel a little bit happier in this glum time, I don't think so." Stefan said. It was no secret in his family that he had purchased the Irene family a house, and then some of the main furnishing items for said house. His wife was shell-shocked over them purchases; she hadn't spoken a word to him for two days after hearing about his purchases—a little later on, after she found that he had also purchased Miss. Irene a car, she nearly started to cry. It had taken his wife all of a week before coming to terms with his purchases and had accepted that he had only been helping someone out. Along with their knowing of his "non-family" major purchases, his entire family also knew of his budding friendship with the planet's heroine. While no questions were being asked on his friend, he knew that there were many questions being thought of in his family's minds. He could see it in their faces—it was very evident that they were all curious about his friend.

"Please dat? I'll be good, I'll not bug Rainmund or Annelise at all if you ask her to dry our yards." Thede started begging. "I'll eat all the veggies that are put on my plate. I'll even clean up my room if you call her."

"No, Thede." Stefan said sternly. "I will not be calling Miss. Irene; she is probably very busy with getting her house cleaned up from the quake or in keeping her sons in line or something."

"Daaaaat—"

"Thede, be patient. It'll only be a few days before it's safe for you to go outside." Stefan said.

As Stefan was telling his daughter to calm down, then started listening to her as she rambled on about the event that she was so looking forward to, that happened not only annually but was also held close-by her family's house, and as Lise Raskop was walking into Stefan's office with the Mocha Oreo shake and the pretzel bits that her boss had asked for her to get for him, Angel Irene was trying in vain to get in some "Me Time" that she so desperately needed after the nerve-wracking morning that she had just gone through. The week following the earthquake, that the scientists and seismologists were all calling a "Freak", hadn't been an easy one for her. She had either fussed and fretted over getting the house back to looking the way it had before the earthquake rocked the planet or she was worrying about the welfare, safety, and happiness of her sons. It was either her repairing the windows, or vacuuming the carpets, to get the glass and wood splinters that she had missed during her first house-cleaning up, or it was her going to check on her sons, who decided to reside in their little "Son Cave" while she cleaned house. After going through what she had, she had decided to try to get in a little "Mom Relaxation Time" with reading the book that Guyunis had left at the table; it seemed rather sad that she was only allowed to read 45 pages of the 384 page book in the near three hours that she was home.

The Klied's were very kind in letting her sons stay at their place while she cleaned most of the glass that had either come from the windows or from the picture frames but, she did wish that they would of controlled their oldest daughter. She had said that she'd be back for her sons in two hours; the first session of house-cleaning had taken a full four hours. Miss. Petra Klied was driving Hazaar just about insane and she had also put Guyunis in a right big funk in them four hours that she was doing the first round of house-cleaning. She would of gotten her sons home a lot sooner if she had used her powers or a spell to get the house cleaned up of all the glass and broken pieces of wood that were on the floors; instead of using her powers, or a spell, she cleaned the house the old fashion way—with a broom, a dustpan, and then a vacuum. After getting the house fixed up, she retrieved her sons; Bile, Lhaklar, and Lazeer were able to walk home on their own accord while she and Mitzi Klied's husband, Kurt, had to help Hazaar and Guyunis home. Kurt Klied had told her all of what happened between his daughter and Hazaar and Guyunis then he gave her the scoop on her sons' injuries. The only reason to why she hadn't gone back to the Klied's house, to give Miss. Petra Klied a piece of her mind, after getting her sons back home was because she was needed at home—she had wanted to tend to the injuries that her five sons had received during the earthquake.

She had gotten into a slight argument with her oldest son when she went to heal him of his injuries; he pulled a Tough-Boy routine with her in saying that he didn't want her to touch any of the injuries that he had on his body. She and he had argued back and forth over his injuries for all of fifteen minutes before she decided to leave him, and his precious injuries aka Badges of Honor, be. She went on to helping Lhaklar with his injuries afterwards; while she was tending the near five-inch long gash that was on the side of his head, she asked him why he separated from his brothers during an event where they should of stayed together. She hadn't believed that her secondborn son went off to find Guyunis's cat but, alas, Lhaklar had stuck to that story. His brothers had even verified it.

As she was using her powers to revolve the water that she was using over the wound that was on Lhaklar's head, she listened to Bile tell the tale of what happened with the cat. Sabine, the cat that Lhaklar ran off after, had run out of the house right when her oldest son was helping her adopted son out of the house. Guyunis had even said that Sabine had "disappeared" afterwards so, she had to accept the cat-chasing as the reason for Lhaklar's running off in such a confusing and dangerous time. She had used Water Healing to heal Lhaklar's gash and, both sadly and surprisingly, only a quarter inch of the gash that was on his head was healed. The four and a quarter inch long gash was still on the side of Lhaklar's head to that day; if her secondborn son hadn't pulled the Tough-Boy routine with the bruises that he had on his chest, stomach, and ribs, they would be gone but, alas, they weren't. Since she wasn't in the mood to argue with him over them, she left them be.

Guyunis gave her no lip or fuss when it came to his turn to be healed of the one injury that he had on him. He had just stretched his right leg out when she came to him. He had watched as she started to revolve a black smoke around his right knee—that had still been swollen to twice its size four hours after the earthquake died down. Instead of using Water or Fire Healing to heal her son of his knee-injury, she used a move that she had learned via the scrolls that a friend gave her when Bile and Lhaklar were infants. Smoke Healing, according to the scrolls that she was given, was a very little used and nearly forgotten practice in the Elemental powers that she, her sons, and her family could do. Whatever was wrong with Guyunis's knee was healed right up. He wasn't limping and he wasn't complaining about any pains that were coming from that knee.

She went on to Hazaar next; three fingers on his left hand were broken. So too had two of the fingers that were on his right hand. He had also had some cracked or bruised ribs. The healing of them injuries was easy; she had tried to help him further with his left knee and hip which, sadly, hadn't gone as well as she had hoped it would. While Hazaar could move around, he was still limping. He was staying strong; there was no general change in his attitude so she knew that he was doing fine, regardless of his leg injury. She moved on to Lazeer afterwards; her lastborn son was compliant towards her wishes in helping him with his injury. He had actually perked up some when it came to his turn to be healed of his injuries; sadly, she had failed in healing the one injury that she had spent nearly thirty minutes on in trying to heal. Despite using Water, Fire, and Smoke Healing on the diagonal gash that went across her youngest son's left eye, she hadn't been able to heal the wound. She was able to close it up some, and she was able to clean it, but the wound had just plain refused to be fully healed. Lazeer still had the diagonal gash across his left eye; it looked to be healing on its own, which she and her son were both glad for.

After doing her best to help her sons with their injuries, she moved them down to the room that they made in August—the one that came off the side of the basement. She went back and forth from that room to the main house for all of two days to check on them. To see if they were alright or not. The 3rd of October was basic son-care day; she went back and forth from the main house to her sons' little cave with things for them that she thought, and hoped, would keep them occupied while she thought up a battle strategy in cleaning the rest of the house up. She had put her battle plans to work the day after; the window that was over the kitchen sink, the windows that were in the living room, and the patio door that was in the dining room were repaired with her Elemental Water powers. All of them windows were repaired on day one of her Battle Strategy; she was right tired after doing all of that but she did have to admit that she was rather proud of herself for doing all of that with no breaks.

She decided to do the house repairs slowly, so not to upset the neighbors or anyone else that was in the neighborhood that she and her sons were living in; she could well of repaired the entire house in one day if she wanted to but that would of made the neighbors all feel like crap and it might of also made for some right bad rumors to fly around about how stingy she was.

The windows that were in her sons' rooms were repaired on the 5th of October; she had also done a few spells to make the things that broke in her sons' rooms go back to the way they were before the quake happened—the glass cages, and the lights that were on the glass cages, that were in Hazaar's and Lazeer's bedrooms had, curiously, not been damaged during the quake so she hadn't had to bother with chasing after and then capturing any of her younger sons' pets.

The window that was in her bedroom was repaired on the 6th of October; it was the last repair that she needed to do on the house.

The days that followed were sort of hectic for her; she had made her rounds of the neighborhood, asking if the neighbors wanted any help in repairing any of their windows or broken glass-items. Nearly everybody that was on her street had said yes. The windows and glass-items that were either on or in all but two of the houses that were on the street that she and her sons lived on were repaired by her; on the same day that she finished the repairs to the house, and then started helping others in the neighborhood in getting their windows and glass-items repaired, her oldest son started complaining about feeling a pain in his left foot. His complaints over his foot were on and off all that day; she had figured that he was only trying to get sympathy-attention from her so she hadn't really thought much of it... until the following two days, that was.

Bile wasn't one who did a lot of complaining. He typically only complained about something when it got to him especially and he typically tried to pull a Tough-Act whenever he gained any sort of injury on his body. When he started complaining about the sole of his left foot hurting him on the 6th of October, she was concerned... for all of an hour, that was. He stopped complaining about his foot for a few hours after she started fussing over him then, a few hours later, he started complaining about his foot again. The idea of his only pulling the on and then off phantom-pain complaints to get attention from her had popped into her head soon after the second session of complaining ended; she started ignoring her son when he resumed his foot-complaints later on that day.

The complaints increased the following day; she, at first, ignored them. When she called her boys to the dining room for lunch, she stopped the complaint ignoring. The worrying over her son had started right after he came into the dining room—he was having a rather difficult time walking on his left foot. By the time her oldest son went to bed, he had hardly been able to walk on that foot. On the 8th of October, she had finally decided to take a look at his foot. What she saw had made her mind turn cartwheels. The underside of her son's left foot, which was yellow, like the rest of the left side of his body, had a long scratch on it and the area that was around the scratch was white. Her tough, Macho Man son had an infection of some sort going on with the underside of his foot. After seeing the state of her son's foot, she did just about everything that came to her mind to get her car, which had remained where it was left, which was four houses from her and her family's own, to run and, sadly, it had just refused to do so. Bile went through one more day of foot pains before she finally decided to grab the keys to her sons' car; the drive to one of the medical clinics that were in town was a quiet one. Bile had known the entire time what was in store for him and he hadn't been looking forward to it... and, honestly, neither had she.

The doctor had taken one look at her son's foot before stepping back; the diagnosis of her son having three pieces of glass in the sole of his foot was alarming. She had done her best to remain calm for her son because, right after the diagnosis of Bile having three pieces of glass in his foot was made, the doctor went off for a razor blade, some cotton and cotton swabs, and a pair of tweezers. Her ears were still ringing. Bile had practically screamed for the heavens when the doctor started working on his foot. Bile had a thick wrap of bandaging on his foot and he had some medicine to take that would take care of the infection that had formed in his foot. He was currently down in the "Son Cave"; he was either lifting weights with Lhaklar or he was just sitting on the room's dump-scavenged couch. Hazaar and Lazeer were in the living room, with her; Guyunis was upstairs, working on one of the motorcycle models that he purchased at the start of the month.

"Hazaar, Lazeer," Angel said. "think one of you can turn the tv down some?"

"Yeah. Sure. Hold on." Hazaar replied. He ducked low then swung around Lazeer quickly. He had a gun-shaped controller in his hand; he was using the controller to shoot the zombies and other villainous creatures that were in the game that he and Lazeer were playing on the game system that Bile brought home from one of his visits to the nearby Au am Rhein dump.

"Zombie cow! Holy shit, I just shot a Zombie cow!" Lazeer exclaimed.

"Man, this game has everything!" Hazaar said excitedly. "It's the Zombiecalypse!"

"Ahem, boys." Angel said. "The volume."

"Look out, Hazaar!" Lazeer screamed when a zombified swamp monster jumped out at the character that Hazaar was controlling; the character that Hazaar was controlling wore a red checkered shirt and brown pants, Lazeer's character wore a blue checkered shirt and black pants.

Hazaar _seemed_ to be trying to reach the remote; he was within three feet of the thing but, like all teenage boys, who were playing a game on one of their game systems, he was really into the game that he and Lazeer had started to play sometime after she left the house with Bile. The Super Dendy game system, that they were playing, was found by Bile two weeks ago. After spending most of the day in Au am Rhein's one dump, Bile came home with the thing, plus several other game systems, and some games... and a bunch of other stuff. He had also come home smelling pretty bad; his eyes were also bloodshot, so she knew that he had smoked something that had gotten him pretty stoned. As per request of hers, he went straight up to take a shower right after coming home; after showering, he went down to where his dump-finds were stashed. All of what he found was cleaned and then handed out; the dump-trips were nothing new to her—her biological sons started doing the strange, little hobby when they were young children. When they came home from their educations, they continued doing it.

She had one rule when it came to their bringing stuff back from the dump: what they brought back had to be cleaned and cleaned well. She didn't want anything stinky or sticky sitting around in the house. Her sons' little hobby had sure freaked Stefan Leinart out when he paid them a little visit a week ago; the man had actually taken her to the side after he learned about their hobby. He had asked her if she was really okay with their trips to the dump, and with their bringing stuff home from the dump. She had told the man that her sons were just acting in regards to both their age and gender and that what they were doing was something around the area of recycling— _the things that they're finding at the dump are being put to use in the house_ , was what she told him. The man had given her a long, quiet stare before going back to the living room. He had stayed a little while longer, had talked and then watched as Lhaklar started hooking up one of the game consoles that Bile found and then brought back from the dump, before leaving. Lazeer had practically jumped at the man before he had a chance to get out of the living room—at first, she was rather irked over his doing that but, sometime after everything calmed down, and after everyone was sleeping soundly after the quake happened, she had figured that he jumped when he had a chance to. He hadn't been allowed to talk to the man much after he came over; his brothers had pretty much hogged the man to themselves—even she wasn't able to speak with him!

In all, Bile brought three game consoles home from the Au am Rhein dump.

The game system that Hazaar and Lazeer were playing was the third generation console from the Dendy game console that was developed and then released in Taiwan as a hybrid of the Nintendo Entertainment System; it came with six controllers—two of the normal, handheld type; two of the gun-shaped type; and two joysticks. The game that her two, younger sons were playing was one of many that Bile had found; all of the games that Bile had found at the dump worked and were in fantastic shape.

The Nvidia Shield, a handheld game console that was released on July 31, 2013, was a surprise find for her son. The flip-up screen had a small crack in it, and the base had needed some slight repairs—despite these issues, Bile had managed to make it look almost like new. Lazeer had discovered soon after the Nvidia was fixed up that it could be connected to the tv; he had played on that device for nearly four hours after Bile fixed it up. The Playstation Vita, the second handheld game console, and the third gaming system that Bile brought home, was a bit beat up, and it needed a new screen put on it, but Bile was able to get it to look like new—with Lazeer's help, of course. Lazeer was one who liked tinkering with the innards of electronic devices and he was also very smart in mechanical things. Most of the other things that Bile brought home on the 25th of September were small; he had cleaned and then distributed them to his brothers quickly. She still didn't know what she was going to do with the porcelain dolls that he brought back from the dump; they looked nice, and they looked expensive... but she wasn't a "doll" type of person. The dolls were cleaned then given to her, along with a leather handbag, two purses, a coin purse, a dress, and some shoes. He went on to cleaning the other stuff that he brought back from the dump afterwards.

Guyunis accidentally left one of his novels on the dining room table sometime after she took Bile to the medical clinic. Upon coming home, then finding the book on the the table, she picked it up with the original intent of returning it to him. Instead of taking the book up to its owner, she decided to hold onto it. The idea of just sitting on the sectional couch with the book open in front of her had seemed like a good one and... since she was so busy that whole, entire week, she figured that she was due for a little "Mom Time". She had maybe two or three more days before she was slated to go back to work; she did have a hope that she would have at least one or two of those days to unwind from the week that she had just gone through. Sadly, from the way things had gone in the near three hours of her return home, and from the way things were looking now, it looked like she wasn't going to be allowed to have any time to herself to unwind or have a breather from the week that she had gone through. Hazaar and Lazeer had the tv's volume up so loud, and they were screaming and yelling so much, that it was next to impossible to concentrate on reading the book. Angel was just leaning over to grab the remote to turn the tv's volume down herself when the phone suddenly started to ring. With a sigh, she closed the book that she had just not been allowed to read then stood up.

"Hello—Irene residence," Angel said after answering phone.

"Angel," it was Stefan Leinart, the country's president who, from what the news claimed, had been office-stuck for nearly the entire week following the earthquake. "how's it going?"

"Exhausted, honestly." Angel replied. "Been right busy this week, like everyone else on the planet, I do believe. With the morning I've experienced, I was hoping to get in a little breather. Doesn't look like I'm allowed to do so."

"You do sound exhausted and, if my ears are correct, it sounds like someone either has the volume of the tv up pretty loud or you're being driven crazy by the kids." Stefan said.

"Your ears are correct in what's going on behind me." Angel said with a sigh. "Hazaar and Lazeer seem to be very enthused with this game that they're playing—they've been playing this one, particular, game for _hours_ now."

"Just them two? Not all five? Think my wife would be very jealous if she was the one that you was speaking with. She has _all_ three of our kids driving her crazy—the kids want to go outside; it's a bit too wet for them to." Stefan said.

"Yeah, just two... at the moment." Angel said. She then added, "Bile and Lhaklar are in that room that they and their brothers made in August; think they're lifting weights or something. Guyunis is upstairs; he said something earlier this morning about wanting to work on this model of a motorcycle that he purchased on the first of the month."

"None of your sons are out and about outside?"

"Until the ground is drier and more stable, no. None of my boys are allowed to step foot outside of the house." Angel said. "Think that's what every parent is saying to their kids; I'll probably be driven further up a wall in a few days. The video games, and their model building, will only distract them temporarily."

"Think you can keep 'em indoors for a week more?" Stefan asked.

The first thing that ran through her head was that the man was up to something; she could detect the notes of a more important question on the tip of the man's tongue and she was both on edge and curious at the same time about what it was that he really wanted to ask her. What was it that he could possibly ask of her? Dry the lot that his house was sitting on? Do a little reconnaissance work on the camp that was discovered a few days ago, that was south of the town that she and her family had moved to in August? Identify some of the people that were in the camp that was near the city of Rastatt? Was the man going to ask her to try to send the people that made camp near the city of Rastatt away?

Yes, she knew about the camp and she also knew that TazirVile had come to the planet and, yes, she suspected that he was the cause of the earthquake that the entire planet had felt. Lhaklar had gone to pieces after seeing the story that was in the papers three days ago; when the local news showed a clip that morning of her grandfather's ship barreling into a rather small airplane—which the news claimed was a drone—he had nearly jumped through the roof. She had a time in getting her secondborn son under control; he was rather upset over the camp's discovery. He had started shouting out orders for everyone to begin packing their things for a hasty move. Lhaklar's main worry was over his father finding out about Guyunis; he was scared that Guyunis would get hurt or worse: that his father wouldn't accept him.

She was worried about them two things as well—along with a bunch of other things—but she didn't want to add more fuel to the already blazing fire by moving her family. Other than the fact that Bile needed a few days to recover from the injury that he had to the bottom of his foot, and the fact that Hazaar was still having a difficult time walking, she didn't want to ensue a panic among her sons and she didn't want the general community around them to become panicked over her and her sons' sudden disappearance. The risks were great if she and her family up and left: Bile and Hazaar's injuries could be aggravated, and they could possibly get new injuries during the move; the possibility of a big confuse-for-all happening with her sons during the quick move could also happen; and the possibility of the people that lived around her and her sons and even in the whole damn country of Germany panicking over their sudden disappearance were just too great. It was best that they just try to keep any and all attention directed towards themselves low as they tried to go on with their lives.

"If you're asking me to keep my sons indoors because of that camp that was found south of us, I don't think so." Angel said. "I've already told my boys that they're to not leave the shields and I've already told them that they need to keep any attention that they're given by anyone to a bare minimum. My sons know what's in store for them if they disobey me in going out to check out that camp. And I won't be leaving the shield to check in on that camp either; I've got my sons to think of and worry over."

"Uuuhhh... no, I wasn't going to ask you to leave the shield to look at the camp that's near the city of Rastatt and I wasn't going to ask you to keep your sons inside because of that camp either." Stefan came out as sounding slightly offended over the phone when, in reality, he was just really confused over why he had asked his friend if she could keep her children indoors for a week. Since Angel had no knowledge about her friend's confusion, she felt ashamed of herself for offending him. Stefan was silent for a long two minutes before clearing his throat. He said what he really wanted to say to her afterwards. "I was going to ask if you wouldn't mind the drive to, say, Berlin next week—there's a dual-event taking place in Brandenburg; it's one of them holiday-appropriate events but there's also a secondary event where the adults can go and be adults without the kids being around."

"My sons never got to celebrate the holidays last year—too much was going on. What all's involved with this dual-event?" Angel asked after giving Stefan's question a think-over—while the drive would be a long one, the purpose behind it would be a good one, she thought.

"You ever heard of the Babelsberg Castle?" Stefan asked.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but I do believe it was the summer residence of Prince William, who later became Emperor William I, and his wife, Augusta of the House of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach." Angel replied.

"You are correct; it was designed in the English Gothic revival style and it was built in two phases over the period 1835–1849. We very nearly lost it in the last two wars but, thankfully, the bombs all landed a few hundred feet from it. A slight re-building was done after the fourth World War; it's very people-friendly now." Stefan said as Hazaar was yelling about some Zombie that had just leaped out from almost out of nowhere at his character. "One part of the dual-event that I mentioned to you a few minutes ago is held there. My kids, ever since they could speak in full sentences, have gone to this event; there's a haunted house set-up in the castle that I'm told is scarier than scary and I'm also told that there's pumpkin chucking and carving and there's also a rather big maze for the kids to walk through and get lost in in the back of the property. That part of the event is specifically done for the kids that are above the age of five."

"You make _me_ almost want to be a kid again with all that you've just described." Angel said. She had nodded her head with each word that he said in describing the event that was held at the Babelsberg Castle.

"Don't go wishing that just yet—the other event is held for just us adults." Stefan said. "It's set-up like a party; we can eat, dance, talk, and there's also a little area that's set-up outside where we can just sit and listen as the kids scream their little hearts out while they go through the haunted part of the castle. I'm told that there's a pool involved with the adult part of the event this year. It's recommended that we bring a swimsuit... or two, since one of the activities scheduled for the adults this year is pie throwing."

"Haaah, when was the last time that I went to a little shindig like that?" Angel chuckled. Besides the little parties for the movies that she did the special effects for, she hadn't attended any holiday events in a very long time. "Think I speak for more than myself in saying that we'd be honored to join in with the festivities. Is the adult-only part of this event held at Babelsberg Castle too or—"

"The adult-only event is held a half-mile from the castle," Stefan replied quickly. "We have a more modern setting. A hedge-maze is included but it's not really set-up like that of the castle's."

"When is this taking place?" Angel asked. "What time?"

"A week from now—the sixteenth, at sunset. It goes on until midnight but..." Stefan went quiet for a second before continuing. "My wife and I usually go and collect the kids at nine-thirty—school-night and all."

"In Potsdam, right? The capital of Brandenburg?" Angel asked.

"Yes ma'am. Six hour and thirty-three minute drive for you and your family; thirty-nine minute drive for me and my family." Stefan replied.

"All of what you've told me on this "dual" event sounds very nice; let me talk it over with the boys." Angel said. When Hazaar and Lazeer both started screaming at the same time over some grotesque monster that had just leaped out at them she said, "I'll call you in a few hours."

"Bye now, Miss. Irene. I shall speak with you soon. Don't let your sons drive you but so crazy now." Stefan said. They hung up at the same time.


	19. Chapter 19

"Alright, now that we're in the car, does anyone need to leave to go use the bathroom, or to retrieve something that they either forgot to bring or put on their persons?" Rosalinde Leinart, a tall woman who had an average waist, and hip, and wide thighs, but a rather pretty face that had two, sparkling blue eyes in it, said after getting into her husband's car. Her husband was sliding into the driver's seat; their three children looked right uncomfortable in the back seats.

"No," Annelise said.

"Uh-uh," Thede shook her head.

"Let's roll, dat!" Rainmund said loudly.

"Yes, let's go before this event is cancelled too." Thede said almost as loudly as her younger brother.

"Rainmund, don't kick the seats please." Stefan said after his son gave the back of his seat an excited double-kick. Stefan started his car a few seconds later then backed it down the driveway. After the car was facing away from the house that he and his family lived in, he started driving down the street.

"Stef, you sure that the people that you invited to the event that we're going to are safe?" Rosalinde asked.

He gave the visor, that was on the ceiling of his side of the car, a look before turning his attention back to the road that was in front of him—this wasn't the first time that his wife had asked this question and this wasn't the first time that he was answering this question. She had asked this same question two weeks ago, after he asked Angel Irene if she and her sons wanted to attend the dual-event that took place in the capital of Brandenburg, and he had answered it in the same fashion that he was now.

His kids were all disappointed after learning that the Babelsberg Castle event was cancelled and, really, so were he and his wife. Thede had wanted him to call the people that were in charge of the event and then get on them for cancelling it; he hadn't done so. He had known that the event's cancellation wasn't on the host's shoulders—the weather was the cause for the Babelsberg Castle part of the event to be cancelled and, naturally, since the adult's party part of the dual-event was attached to the Babelsberg Castle's haunted house, it was also cancelled. He had tried to explain this to his two, younger children. Their disappointment was so great that they hadn't listened to him.

From the day that the dark gray snow melted, which was October 9, to October 11, it was nice and sunny and warm; it rained on the four days that followed. The four-day rains had caused further foundation problems for certain structures that were effected by the October 2 earthquake. The Babelsberg Castle, while sustaining minor damage in the quake, wasn't able to hold up to the quick-melting snow or to the weather that happened between October 12 and 15—after the castle's foundation was checked, then found to be severely damaged, the event was called off. The castle was just not safe for the children, or for the visitors that flocked to it each day. The kids had naturally been upset and disappointed over the cancellation, and the adults had also been disappointed, but the adults all knew the reason for the cancellation—they had conducted themselves very well about it... or, at least he thought and hoped that they had.

Curiously, on the 17th of October, when he called and then relayed the sudden cancellation to Angel Irene, he had noted that she sounded relieved over it happening. Along with basic friend talk, he mentioned how disappointed he was in the cancelled event—the reason for her being so relieved over the event's cancellation happened after he mentioned his disappointment, and after she relayed the happenings of the past week.

Miss. Irene claimed that, after they spoke on the 9th of October, she went up to her bedroom for a few hours for some private "Me Time". Along with resting on her bed for two hours, she read some of the book that her adopted son left on the dining room table that morning; after reading the book, she watched a little tv then took a short nap. On the following day, she gave her sons her blessing to leave the house after everything dried up from the snow thaw. Bile and Lhaklar left the house to do a little sight-seeing of the not-yet repaired buildings and streets that were in their town and in Karlsruhe while Hazaar decided to go out in the backyard with his turtles. Lazeer had also remained home—along with being rather concerned about one of his pet frogs, who had stopped eating, he had also wanted to get a head-start on the Revell model 172 Arado Ar555 German Jet Bomber Plane that he purchased on the first.

He was told that Bile was injured during the earthquake—his injury wasn't noted until a week after the earthquake happened. Bile's foot was doing well now, as were the other injuries that he had to himself—the scratches and the minor cuts, that were on the underside of his feet, and the cut that he had on his left elbow. According to Miss. Irene, the scratches and minor injuries healed within a week's time. The injuries that Lhaklar and Lazeer received during the earthquake were still on them. He was rather impressed—and a little bit curious as to how she did it—after hearing that she used her powers to heal the injuries that Guyunis and Hazaar received during the earthquake. After a few minutes of hearing her talk mostly about her biological children he asked about Guyunis; she was slow, and reluctant, in telling him what happened to the kid after the quake stopped.

Due to noticing that her adopted son was experiencing a relapse, she hadn't pushed him into leaving the house after she gave her sons her blessing to go outside. One of the neighbor's kids—a Miss. Petra Klied—had made her adopted son revert back to hating humans for all of three days before that old-found hatred reverted back to simple dislike. Angel claimed that, while she kept her eye on him, she had mainly left him alone; she spoke to him some on what happened with Petra Klied, and she gave him lots of support, but she decided to let him go through the relapse on his own. After asking her if that was the wise thing to do, she replied by saying that it was for the best that she let her son deal with his "demons" and make the decision on whether or not to go on acting the way he had before Miss. Klied started in on him about his appearance and on the way he talked.

"Parents can only do but so much when things like this happen," his friend told him. "I can talk to him, and try to reason with him on what happened with Petra, until I'm black and blue in the face; it's better to just let him think it over and make the decision on whether or not he wants to pick himself up, dust himself off, then go on living his life the way it was before Petra started in on him."

"And if he doesn't do that?" he remembered asking her. After hearing what he had, he was right concerned about Guyunis.

"I have confidence that he'll get through this," she replied. "This isn't the first time that he's been bullied or picked on by one of the neighbor-kids. He's already shown that he's getting over what happened; he's not speaking of humanity in as bad a tone as he was four days ago."

He had understood her reckoning; being a parent, he understood how cruel children were towards each other and he also knew that it was best to—sometimes—let the child deal with their issues. A parent could nurture and guide all he or she could/wanted to but, in the end, the child was the decider on his or her life and on the choices that he or she wanted to do. Thede was bullied a lot when she started school and for all sorts of varying reasons: she had a light lisp during the first few years of her schooling, and she was a little shorter than the other kids that were in her class, and she was also very musically inclined for one her age. For the first two years of her going off to school, she came home crying after being bullied. She had gone on about not wanting to ever go back each time that happened. On each of the times that he asked her if she wanted him to send her to a different school, after she came home crying after being bullied, she had said no. Thede had continued to go off to Baden Elementary School; she had continued to wake up, get dressed, then head off to the bus each morning and, after a while, the bullying stopped. She was a strong one, his Little Thede. He was right proud of her.

He placed a call to Miss. Irene's number only twice after they spoke on October 9; he had just wanted to see how things were going for her and her sons and talk a little with them. He gave his friend's ear a rest after them two calls were made.

After the heavy rains started, the sun came out—it literally baked everything in sight! It was so damn hot on the 16th and 17th of October that one could literally fry and then burn an egg on the sidewalk; the weather stations, after the temperature for them two days reached a hundred and six degrees, declared them to be the hottest days on record for Germany. There was no person willing to drive to work, or to the grocery store, or to even take their kids to school on them two days; even he had refused to drive to the Chancellery on them days. Annelise, Thede, and Rainmund had stayed in bed on them days; he and his wife hadn't bothered in waking them up for school. The temperature had dropped to a nice seventy-six degrees on the 18th then the temperatures had taken a severe nose-dive on the 19th, 20th, and 21st. After three days of negative twenty degree temperatures, the weather shaped up. Although seventy-one degrees was abnormal for that time of year in his country, everyone was glad that the temperature was that instead of higher or in the negatives. It was now the 23rd of October; the weather, for the last two days, had stayed nice.

He had managed to find one event that he and his family could attend and, since he didn't want the Irene's to be left out on anything festive or exciting, he had placed a call to them and then asked if they wanted to go to it. Miss. Irene had sounded very interested in the event, as had her kids; she had asked them if they wanted to go while they were talking—all five of her sons were very loud and clear in saying that they did. He gave his friend the directions to the event, and the time that it was being held on, before concluding their phone conversation.

"You'll like her, Rosa." Stefan said after telling his wife that Angel Irene and her sons were a safe bunch. "She's right nice. Very polite. Taught her kids to be the same; you have nothing to worry about."

"I'm more concerned about her sons, Stefan." Rosalinde replied. "You know how boys are—they cuss, and smoke, and create all sorts of trouble. Miss. Irene's sons are all older than our kids—two of them are practically adults!"

"They're all teenagers, Rosa. Miss. Irene told me once that, in alien terms, her sons are all in their mid-teens." Stefan said. He almost sighed but he forced the sigh to stay in. "They do smoke, but they don't do hand-offs."

"How do you know that?" Rosalinde asked.

"Because, on one of the visits that I paid to their house, I asked each one for a smoke as a way to test them. None of them handed me a cigarette." Stefan replied. After a period of silence happened, he let the sigh that he kept inside out then pulled over onto the shoulder of the road. Once he had the car parked, he looked at his wife. "Rosa, look. I'm your husband, we've been married for a little over eighteen years now, have you ever known me to put anyone in danger and have you ever known me to let our kids hang out with just anyone?"

"No," Rosalinde said back.

"If I knew that Angel Irene or any of her sons were a danger to us, or to anyone in our country, I wouldn't of bought them that house or helped them in getting set-up in that house." Stefan said. "I'd of run them out of our country. I'd of had the military on them in a heartbeat if I had known that they were dangerous."

"Why would our planet's heroine be dangerous, dat?" Annelise asked.

"It's not our planet's heroine that your dat and I are talking about, Annelise." Rosalinde said. She turned around in her seat for only a second to look at her oldest daughter and child before turning back to look at her husband. "I guess I'm just a worry-wort, Stef. Mutterly instinct to protect my young, you know. I don't know anything personal about Miss. Irene or her sons—you do but I don't."

"Do you trust me?" Stefan asked. He gave his wife a hard, serious stare.

"Yes," Rosalinde answered. She nodded her head then looked out the windshield. "I do. Yes, I trust you. You're my husband."

"I understand why you're worried; I'd be worried if I didn't know the Irene kids myself." Stefan said as he started his car back up. After a few, quiet minutes of driving down the motorway passed, he reached over then grabbed his wife's hand in his own. "It's time for the Leinart's to meet the Irene's; you have nothing to fear or worry about. Meine liebe."

The calculation on how long it'd be before he and his family reached their destination was spot-on. Before leaving the house, he did a quick estimate on how long he'd be on the road—he came up with a little under six hours and that was what it took before the sign loomed up declaring that they had reached the last two miles of their trip. The people who sponsored the Oktoberfest event, that was held annually in Munich, Bavaria, Germany every year, had decided that, since so many of October's planned events were cancelled due to the sudden chaotic weather changes that the country was experiencing, and since everything was still up at the traditional fairgrounds, they were going to re-open Oktoberfest just to lighten the moods of the country's people. Oktoberfest was usually a 16-day festival that ran from late-September to the first weekend of October; this was to be the first time in its history that it was being held twice in one year.

The people who sponsored the event had also decided to forgo the entrance fee; they had also called up every man and woman that vended the tents, stands, stalls, and booths that had yet to be taken down to see if they'd agree to drop the prices of their merchandise as well. According to the commercial that he saw earlier that morning, the calls placed to the vendors went very well—the price of just about everything that was set-up on the fairgrounds where the Oktoberfest funfair was held every year was slashed in half. The visitors to the event would be treated to attractions such as amusement rides, side-stalls, and games and, if a visitor wished to indulge in a little drinking, there were areas set-up that had all sorts of wines, cocktails, and beers that conformed to the Reinheitsgebot included in their beverage menus. There were stalls and tent-made areas that served food and there were also tents that housed animal attractions. There were petting zoos and pig and goat races and there were also tents where young people could go to get their faces painted up. The people who sponsored the event were being very generous; he couldn't thank them enough because, out of the thirty-odd planned events that were scheduled for the month of October, only three went on as scheduled. The other events for the month were cancelled due to either the weather or to post-earthquake or snow melt-related damages.

"The sun hasn't even gone down yet they have everything lit up like a Christmas tree." Rosalinde said after seeing the sparkling red, green, blue, and yellow lights of the funfair that was known as Oktoberfest. Stefan glanced at his wife; he took note of the pinpoints of light, that were in her blue eyes. before smiling. His wife was excited.

"Will we be able to find a parking place, dat?" Annelise asked. Excitement was screaming out of her voice.

"Sure we will," Stefan said. He was driving into the parking lot now. There looked to be over four hundred vehicles in the lot, but he managed to find a spot to park his car in. "They had to increase the parking lot for the event's patrons last year; there were thousands of complaints filed about how people were parking their cars in the city some miles from the event. They added a lot and a half to their original parking space just so that wouldn't happen again."

"Did you tell the Irene's to meet us somewhere, or did you just invite them and hope that we'd bump into them once we got inside?" Rosalinde asked.

"I didn't really ask for them to wait for us," Stefan replied. "but Miss. Irene did say that she, and maybe one or two of her sons, would be waiting for us at the entrance."

"I don't see them, datty." Thede whined. "I don't—"

"I think I do," Annelise said. She undid her seatbelt then got out of the car. "One of her kids is green, right?"

"Yes," Stefan said as he got out of his car. His wife got out behind him; Thede and Rainmund got out next. "Make sure that we lock the doors. We don't want to come back to find that something that was left in the car was stolen, and we don't want to come back to find that our car's been stolen either."

Being over six feet tall had its advantages and he was using them advantages to perfection. Except for his head, he was standing like a statue. His legs were straight; the muscle, that was in them, was tight for only one reason and that was to keep his body as still and as straight as can be. He had the muscle that was in his torso tight as well; that was also aiding him in keeping his body straight and still. His arms were down at his sides; they were the only things on his body that he wasn't using to keep himself straight and still. His head was the main thing on his body that he was using. At the moment, his head was like a periscope—his neck was craned to its full length, and his head was swiveling from left to right slowly so he could see all of the humans that were coming towards the entrance to the event that was going on behind him. He was alone; his mother had asked for him to stand and keep watch for the Leinart family while she went off to use the bathroom. Once she left to go to the bathroom, he started acting like a stud; he had already gotten some stares from a few lovely ladies but, so far, no takers. He was being patient. A lady to have some fun with would come when the time was right and, since it was only 8:54 p.m., he had plenty of time to find someone to spend some time with.

He and his brothers were elated after receiving the invite to come to the second-held Oktoberfest; except for the 10th, 11th, and 18th, none of them had spent any time outside. The event of their being allowed to leave the house on the 18th of October was like a tease for them—both before and after that day came and went, they did just about anything they could think of to keep themselves preoccupied. They had also tried to keep their complaining and whining down to a minimun too.

He and his brothers had all gone out and purchased some models at the start of the month; they had kept themselves busy doing them, and they had also pitched in on keeping the house neat and tidy, and they had also helped their mother cook the family meals, and they had also pumped a lot of iron in the room that they created together in August—their mother continued to call it The Son Cave, regardless of their saying that it was just a room where they could act macho during their housebound periods. Guyunis went out and purchased some music and novels on the first of the month so he had something extra to do; Guyunis, Hazaar, and Lazeer also had their pets to keep them further preoccupied. One of Lazeer's frogs went on a hunger binge for three days after October 10 came and went—Lazeer was plenty worried about his frog but, luckily, the frog had started eating again. It was doing fine. The rest of the pets that were in the house were doing well. All were said to be eating well and all were said to be healthy too, which was good.

Due to the weather that was experienced over the last two weeks, he was forced to miss out on going to work. His mother had also been forced to stay at home—just yesterday, she became a little depressed after telling them that their November allowances were going to be a little late in coming to them. They had responded to her depression by telling her to not stress herself over that little area—if they got their allowances next month they'd be happy and, if they didn't... well they'd still be happy because they knew what the excuse was for their either getting that month's allowance late or for their not getting it at all. Only a fool-child would grow angry with his or her parents over a missed allowance; they didn't fuss or fret or complain about how little or pitiful their allowances were and they never spoke badly of the allowances that they were given each month. There were only two reasons to why they'd be lacking an allowance anyways: someone was bad, and was being punished, or something came up at mother's workplace that prevented her from coming up with enough money for both the bill paying and the stocking up of the cabinets and fridge. Their mother was a smart woman; she did the bills, and the food pantries, first, which she, he, and his brothers all agreed were the most important things that the money that she and he were bringing in from their job salaries should go towards. Their allowances were always given over after the bills and the pantry were squared away.

A unanimous yes resounded throughout the house after Mr. Leinart called, then asked if they wanted to go the second-held Oktoberfest. The thought of needing money for the event hadn't hit any of them until after their mother placed the phone on its base unit—their mother had only had €100 to her name; after the subject of money was brought up, she had said that she was going to try to divide that evenly between all of them. Guyunis had a little over a thousand left in the money that he had; he had distributed a hundred euros to each of them before their mother had the chance to say no then he went racing up to his room for the envelope that he was putting the money that he earned from his job in. All of them had €200 on their persons; most of it came from Guyunis while around €50 came from him. The rest had come from their mother. His mother and his brothers had thanked him, then Guyunis was thanked, then they started getting ready for the event that they were invited to. They were so excited about the event that none of them went out to do the things that they had planned to do that day—in total, they had spent nearly all of that month indoors, which was both a shock and a good reason to why they were so antsy.

"Annelise!" he jerked his head to the right for no reason at all. He saw a teenage girl, who looked around the age of sixteen or so, running towards the event's entrance. At first, he thought nothing about the girl—he had seen over a dozen teenagers and young children racing for the event's entrance; they were all excited about the event and, like the man that yelled at the sixteen-or-so year old girl, who was running towards the entrance, that he was standing near, each of them teenagers and young children had an adult or guardian yelling for them to either stop or slow up.

Before he and his family left the house, they checked to see if they had everything on them that they either wanted to bring along or that was needed for them to have a good time. He and his brothers had checked their wallets; all of the money that they were given was in them, as had their photo I.D.'s and their driver's licenses—or, in Hazaar and Lazeer's cases, their learner's permits. He had his cigarette case, which had six Black Devil cigarettes in it; his brothers had their smokes on them; and they had their communicators on them. Their mother had one of the purses that Bile found at the Au am Rhein dump in September; all of the necessary items that she needed were in it. The keys to his and his brothers' i8 BMW were in his pocket; his mother had the keys to her Porsche D2 in her pocket. They, sometime after eating lunch, had mutually decided that both of the cars would be used to get them to the event. His mother had led the way to Munich, Germany; Hazaar and Lazeer were with her. He had followed at a safe distance behind her with Bile and Guyunis.

While on the drive, he and Bile had discussed what they were hoping to do after they went their separate ways after they reached their destination. Guyunis had even surprised them by both telling them a little something that they didn't know about him and then telling them what he had planned to do after they reached their destination. They had only been in Munich, Germany for a little under forty minutes; they had spent about twenty minutes together as a family then their mother had asked them why they were "crowding her" and "taking her air". She gave them the gentle push that they needed to go out and have some fun; Bile went off with Guyunis while Hazaar and Lazeer went in separate directions. He had decided to stay with her to assist in keeping an eye out for the Leinart's.

"Hey," he blinked his large, oval-shaped, pistachio-colored eyes twice then looked down. The girl that he saw a minute or so ago, the one that looked around sixteen or so years of age, was standing just two feet from him. Her eyes were a startling mix of gray, green, and gold; she had long, chestnut colored hair. "You're one of Miss. Irene's kids, right?"

"Ja, ich bin." he replied in German.

"I thought so," the girl replied. "Ich bin Sophie Annelise Leinart."

"LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit, Gnädige Frau." Lhaklar said back. When Stefan walked up, he acknowledged him in pure English. "Hello, Mr. Leinart. How are you today?"

"Hello Lhaklar, I'm doing very well. How're you today?" Stefan said.

"Very good, sir."

"He seems very polite." the woman that was coming up beside Stefan Leinart had an average body build; she stood five foot, six and a half inches. She had long, brown hair and sparkling blue eyes set in a pretty face. "I'm Rosalinde—what number are you in the Irene Kids' line-up?"

"What?" Lhaklar came close to reaching his hand up to scratch the side of his head; he had never been asked what number he was in any line-up before.

"He's the secondborn, Rosalinde." Stefan said, answering the question for Lhaklar.

"He's really tall," Thede, a girl who looked no more than ten years old, said with an admiring tone. Thede had hazel-colored eyes and medium-length, chestnut-brown hair. She stood exactly five feet tall. "He's like a skyscraper, dat!"

"Thede," Stefan chided his daughter quickly. "Be nice now."

"Like one of them tall oaks in a forest," Rainmund, a child that looked no more than five years old, said excitedly. Rainmund was an almost perfect replica of his father except for one thing—while he had orange-brown hair, he had very blue eyes. "Does he change color like the leaves on a tree, dat?"

"Rainmund!" Stefan scolded. "I'm sorry, Lhaklar. He—"

"I'm not offended any," Lhaklar said, and he wasn't. "How old is he?"

"Five," Stefan answered quickly.

"Kids his age usually do say things like that." Lhaklar said. He then leaned forward and said in a near-whisper, "When I was in my five hundreds, I use to ask people of African descent if they were made of chocolate."

"And he got a lot of reprimanding whenever he asked that question too."

The first thing that ran through Rosalinde Lieselotte Leinart's head was that someone of royal blood was walking towards her; although she had always believed that her planet had a heroine, and although she had never really, truly spoken bad of her planet's heroine, she, up to that moment in time, had always believed that the descriptions, that were put in the history books, of her planet's heroine were either botched or written incorrectly. How could one be born with having hair that was so red that it cast a red glow off of things? How could one have a golden-yellow ring around their black pupils? How could someone that had near, pure, demonic blood coursing through their veins be considered a heroine? She had asked these questions to her parents and to her college professors; while not able to answer some of her questions, they had answered the final question similarly—they said that Angel Irene may have near pure demonic blood in her veins but her heart and mind are one hundred percent good and decent. She wasn't raised by demonic entities and she wasn't raised by the demonic monsters that plague the planet from time to time. She was brought up on the planet and she was brought up among humans. She saw Earth as her home and she saw humans as her people and that was one of the reasons for why she didn't act like her evil kin.

The books claimed that she was born on May 15, 1758; they also claimed that she was raised in Greece, and that the one that raised her was her fraternal twin sister—who, along with not only being older than her, treated her rather poorly. Angel Irene, the books all claimed, was born after the seed of Master Vile bore itself through the umbilical cord that was connected to the few month old fetus that would later be given the name of Bathilda of Greece. Master Vile's seed had waited patiently until Bathilda of Greece had reached the age of nineteen before detaching itself from its hiding spot. The rogue seed had fertilized an egg that had just been released from one of Bathilda's ovaries; Angel Irene was born a month later. Bathilda of Greece, the books all claimed, had gone into a coma-like state during the birth; Angel Irene wasn't born in a normal way—she was born inside a green egg, which hatched soon after Bathilda recovered consciousness.

Bathilda raised Angel Irene for twenty years; they moved around a lot because of the people that were in the villages that were near the caves that were chosen by the two to live in. The people that lived in the villages that were near their resident caves had reacted violently towards Miss. Irene—the children had picked on her, and had forced her to show them her powers. A small passage in the history books mentioned that the village priests dragged Miss. Irene back to the cave that she and her guardian were staying in—the villiage children and the priests were the reason behind Bathilda of Greece and her adopted daughter moving around so much; the children were acting like normal children while the priests were, apparently, a paranoid bunch. The priests that dragged Miss. Irene back to the final cave that she and her guardian were living in at the time had told Miss. Irene's adopted mutter that she and her "demon child" were no longer allowed near civilization; they had to move and they had to move far away from people. Bathilda had made a deal with the priests on that day where, if she could get rid of her ward aka her adopted sister and fraternal twin, she could remain near civilization. The deal must of been agreed upon because Miss. Irene did claim that Bathilda had run her off.

In the many interviews that Angel Irene did after she was discovered as being back on the planet, after she went missing after her two older sons reached a year and nine months and nine months of age, she claimed that she was a slow maturing child. She claimed that it took her twenty years to mature into a ten year old, then it took another two years before she took on the appearance of an eleven year old. Bathilda had kicked her out of the cave that they were residing in when she was twenty years and two months old or, in alien-age terms, when she was ten years and two months old. She had kept herself alive by hunting, by taking down wild game, and she claimed that she had also done a lot of wild fruit picking. She also claimed that, after she was booted out from the cave that she and Bathilda were living in, she made a temporary home near that of her fraternal twin. Sometime after her twenty-secondth—or eleventh, in alien-age terms—birthday, a bunch of alien teachers from a school called the Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic approached her; the school was rather interested in having her as one of its pupils. She was picked for the Outreach Program for Lower Life Planetary Organisms that had Special Abilities—or the O.P.L.L.P.O.S.A, as Miss. Irene and the books both called it—because she was exhibiting specific magical powers that one of non-magical backing would normally not exhibit. She went to the school for a hundred years then she came back to Earth, where she remained and resided on in peace for a long period of time before the man that sired her discovered that she had his blood in her veins.

"I'm standing in front of royalty," Rosalinde said in unconscious awe. Until Angel Irene commented on what she had just said, she didn't know that she spoke.

"Oh now, I'm in no way royal." Angel said. "I'm normal, like any other person walking this fine planet."

"You look fantastic," Rosalinde said. "Is it the alien genes in you that keep you looking so beautiful or is it something that you consume?"

"Has to be the alien genes—I don't take anything to keep me looking this way." Angel replied.

"She looks like a princess!" Thede exclaimed. "Princesses always look beautiful, mum."

"Does it have anything to do with you being immortal?" Rosalinde asked.

"It might," Angel replied quickly. "Lhaklar, can you contact your brothers please, so they can meet our friends and so our friends can meet them."

Although Stefan, who hadn't seen Angel in over two weeks, thought that his friend looked stupendous, he didn't say that out loud. He let his wife and children voice that but he, a married man, and a man who was still very much in love with the woman that he had married, kept his opinion on Angel Irene to himself. His friend was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a blue blouse that, while having no shoulders, did have loose-flowing, long sleeves. He thought that the satin-made, low-heeled, navy blue shoes, that were on her feet, were nice. She had a layered, sequin blue, multi-blue beaded necklace hanging from around her neck and, besides the oval-shaped aquamarine ring, that she always seemed to wear on the ring finger of her left hand, she had a rose gold plated snake ring on her left index finger that had a right nice shine to it. The purse, that was hanging from her right shoulder, was one of those German-made, German-silver mesh types; while it did look to have a few things in it it didn't look over-stuffed. Miss. Irene had a yellow-colored bruise on the left side of her neck and a few bruises on her left shoulder; she looked in good shape, regardless of them bruises. Lhaklar, on the other hand, had a four and a quarter inch long gash on the right side of his head. The area that was around the gash was a dark green color; it looked painful but Lhaklar looked unfazed by it.

Bile teleported in first; Stefan noted that his friend's oldest son was walking around fine and he also took note of the fact that Bile had no visible injuries on him. Bile stayed around for a short while. He said hello to his wife and kids, he talked for a little while, then he excused himself. Right after he left the area, Guyunis and Hazaar teleported in; Guyunis seemed a bit reluctant to say hello at first but he came around after a few seconds while Hazaar introduced himself right away. Hazaar spoke for a few minutes before saying his goodbyes. After Guyunis said hello, then said a few words, he left the area; Stefan took note that his friend's adopted son looked in perfect health and he also took note that, while Hazaar looked well and healthy, he was walking around with a right bad limp.

Stefan and his wife had to bite their lower lips to keep from gasping after they saw Lazeer a few minutes later. Lazeer looked as if he went through a right bad fight; the area, that was around his left eye, was nearly black in color while the diagonal gash that went across that eye was a dark red color. Lazeer's left eye was open; he still had his eye but by George did he have one hell of a nasty injury that would take some time to heal! Stefan didn't have to ask why the kid's goggled glass, that was worn over his left eye, was on loosely—the area that was around Lazeer's eye looked right tender and sore but, surprisingly, it wasn't swollen. After Lazeer said hello to his wife and kids he stayed around for all of ten minutes; he talked and joked around then, after ten minutes passed, he said his goodbyes. He disappeared a few seconds later, leaving his very pleased mother behind with the Leinart's. Lhaklar went into the fair after his younger brother left.

"You've got some strong kids, Angel." Stefan said after a few minutes of silence fell between him, his family, and his friend. "Them injuries—Lhaklar's and Lazeer's especially—are right bad. For them to be out and about with—"

"I've done about all that I can to heal their injuries," Angel said. There was despair and defeat in her voice. "They're trooping through each day; I'm proud of them for that but I wish that I could help them out more by completely healing their injuries."

"What happened to Hazaar for him to be walking around with such a bad limp?" Rosalinde asked.

"He fell on a rock last month when he and Lazeer went to China," Angel explained. "The most that I got from them was that they were fussing and fighting among themselves. Lazeer punched Hazaar hard enough to make him fall back on a large and rather sharp rock. He chipped a bone in his hip, and he also bruised the bone in his knee. Up to a few days ago, he was walking around fine."

"What happened a few days ago for him to be limping again?" Stefan asked.

"He and Guyunis got into a fight when they were in the basement." Angel replied with a tired sigh. "Guyunis pushed his brother up against the washer; that made the bone in Hazaar's hip become re-injured. Hazaar was having one of his temper moments when the fight happened; he just exploded for no reason after seeing that his brother was walking up the basement steps with the basket of clothing that I asked for him to get for me."

"Temper moments?" Rosalinde repeated the two words that Angel had just said. "By any chance would Hazaar be going through one of them rebellious teenage phases?"

"Yes—only a more extended and amplified form of the phase. It's called the Temperamental phase by people outside of this galaxy for a reason." Angel replied. "Lazeer's going through it as well."

"You poor woman." Rosalinde sighed. "I went through that phase with Annelise, but I had my husband there to help take some of the pressure that I was feeling because of it off my shoulders. It's a challenging phase for both child and parent, and it's also an annoying phase."

"I cope with it—I had to go through the same phase with Bile and Lhaklar at the same time too, so I have experience in how to handle it." Angel said. She then turned and went in the funfair. Stefan and his family walked in next; at first, they walked behind Angel by half a step, then they caught up and began walking beside her.


	20. Chapter 20

It was a little over five-thirty when Angel and her sons started the journey to the traditional fairgrounds where the Oktoberfest funfair was held annually. In order to get to the crossroads, that were situated near the city of Ulm, that was in the state of Baden-Württemberg, Angel made the decision to use the Autuobahn 8, which was also known as the A8 motorway. Another decision was made after they started going by the Danube river—which the city of Ulm was situated on. The trip was shortened just a little, but not as a way to get to their destination first, before the Leinart's did. Angel based her decision on the fact that she and Lhaklar were driving for a little under two hours; they had grown a little stiff after being behind the wheel for so long and her two, younger sons were getting a little agitated over having to sit in a car for so long. Although Hazaar and Lazeer behaved themselves, and spoke about the things that they were seeing as she drove down the A8 motorway, and about what they were hoping to do after they reached their destination, they had also done a little bickering while on the drive to Ulm.

After her two sons started another session of bickering among themselves while they were going by the Danube river, she decided to pull over onto one of the available shoulders that were on their side of the A8 motorway. Once pulled over, she turned then told her sons to get out of the car and then walk around for a few minutes, which they did. Instead of sitting in the car, she joined them. She and they walked around the car twice, then they went over to look at the river that was on their side of the motorway; when Lhaklar pulled over onto to the shoulder of the road that they were on, she went over to discuss the matter of using teleportation as a means to shorten the trip a little. Taking from example of their mother and younger siblings, Bile, Lhaklar, and Guyunis got out of the i8 BMW then did some walking to stretch their legs and muscles; after the walking and stretching was done, they resumed their drive to Munich, Germany. Before she and Lhaklar drove into the small city of Ulm, they teleported; just as they were finishing their teleportation to the large city of Augsburg, that was in the south-west portion of the state of Bavaria, Germany, the people that lived in the towns of Au am Rhein, Elchesheim-Illingen, Durmersheim, and Bietigheim were just starting to hear a close-sounding, loud baying call that was swiftly followed by a series of menacing, long, and low howls. By the time Angel and her sons drove into Munich, Germany, the people that lived in them towns were shivering in fright over the baying and howling that they started hearing a little over fifty minutes ago.

"We're getting nowhere and fast, Tazir." KurukVile grumbled loudly. "Them damn canines of yours have been running us around in circles for over an hour—they're not picking up anything, and they'll probably never pick up anything!"

"Patience, Brother. My canines have a wicked nose on them; once they get the tr—"

"They _won't_ be picking up _any_ trail because there _is_ no trail for them to pick up." KurukVile said. He gave the reins that he was holding a firm tug; his horse stopped obediently. "The weather has washed all traces of your sons away, Tazir. Face facts; it's snowed and rained, and it's been hot and cold here. All of that has made any and all scent trails of your sons' to go from being strong to faint; your mangy mutts won't catch a whiff of anything here."

He almost laughed when his older, half-brother called his hunting canines mangy mutts because, in reality, they were of the purest strand of the MoHund breed that he was able to find, buy, and then train and breed. He was rather proud of his MoHund pack; they obeyed his every command and they were excellent helpers during a hunt. He had started with having a small pack of four many thousands of years ago; while the numbers had risen normally, there was a number of reasons for it to fall—illness, injury, and his having to sell a few from time to time to keep its numbers down. At the moment, he had a healthy pack of thirty. The three animals, that he instructed his staff to put in his ship twenty-seven days ago, were young, yes, but they weren't dumb by any means. He had trained them himself and, just from watching them, he knew that they were picking up some sort of scent—all three of the hunting canines, that he released seventy minutes ago from the cages that were located in the lower decks of his ship, had their noses to the ground. They would bay and howl from time to time, and they would run off as if they had found something that they had tuned into.

The three animals that he and his brother, Eldass and Zshon, and Cheshire and Qeeta were following were nearly hairless. To the naked eye, each of the animals had four-foot long limbs—in reality, the hind limbs were that long while the fore ones were a little shorter. Each of the animals were gray; they had sparse, black hair on their haunches and shoulders—it was greasy, and unhealthy looking, when it really wasn't. The animal that he was closest to was digging into a pile of dead leaves; it had human-like fingers on each of its paws. The non-retractable claws, that were on the ends of each of the animal's human-like fingers, curved; they were very long and sharp. Each of the animals that he released to track the scent of his sons had yellow eyes; all of them had big, sharp, and yellow teeth. Two of the MoHunds had very muscular, stocky bodies while the third—the one that he and his horse were closest to—had a very trim and slim body build. Eldass and Zshon had taken a small section of the shield that was around the town of Steinmauern down before the three animals were released; the three MoHunds had walked into the opening with no problem. He, Qeeta, Eldass, Zshon, Cheshire, and Kuruk had followed them. The small section of the shield that Eldass and Zshon took down had interestingly repaired itself soon after they went through it.

His MoHunds, while finding nothing in the sparsely populated town of Steinmauern, went crazy after sniffing the town limits that were between Steinmauern and another town called Bietigheim. He had found himself as having to kick Rhoosod, the three year old stud colt, that he bred and raised and trained himself, into a mild canter to keep up with them after they went into the town of Bietigheim—soon after entering that town, he had found himself as having to urge his horse into a gallop. Several of Bietigheim's townspeople had run off, screaming and howling in fear after seeing him and his MoHunds; he had seen the flash of a camera go off twice after Kuruk, Qeeta, Cheshire, Eldass, and Zshon joined him then the town went quiet and still. For some reason, the three animals had skipped going to the town of Elchesheim-Illingen when they came to that town's limits; they led him and his entourage into the town of Durmersheim, which was to the west of Elchesheim-Illingen, where they either sniffed around or whined for all of twenty minutes. They led him and his group to the town of Au am Rhein next—they had just about bayed and howled themselves hoarse after reaching that town's limits. He and his group had spent a short ten minutes in the town of Elchesheim-Illingen after his MoHunds led them there; for some reason, his MoHunds were now leading them down a stretch of road that looked like a highway.

While weather did matter in the strength of a scent trail he did know that his animals were finding something around the area of a scent. This was what he knew as a fact: Bile and Hazaar were seen in a town called Bietigheim on the 24th of September; his MoHunds went crazy after they led him and his group there so, they had obviously sniffed out some sort of scent that either one or both of his sons had left behind. Lazeer was seen in a town called Durmersheim on the 25th of September; either his youngest son decided to not stay in the town for long or he hadn't left a good enough scent trail—his hunting canines had a hard time in picking up his trail. Hazaar was seen in a town called Elchesheim-Illingen on the 22nd of September and boy howdy had his three MoHunds gone crazy when they wandered into that town. Bile was seen in a town called Au am Rhein on the 25th of September; his MoHunds had just about howled and bayed themselves raw when they wandered into that town. His three MoHunds weren't able to travel up to the city of Karlsruhe because of the break in the shields and, for some reason, they hadn't had an interest in going towards the city. Lhaklar was seen as leaning against a building in a city called Bühl on the 26th of September; his three hunting canines hadn't shown an interest in going there. Out of six known places that his sons were noted as being in, only four were checked out by his hunting canines. That was enough to tell him that his hunting canines were picking up a scent and that was also why he hadn't given the call for them to break off the search. Up to that very moment, no one had said a word on how the search was going and no one had made as if to break off from the group; TazirVile pulled a gold whistle out from the inside pocket of his burgundy tuxedo jacket. He put it to his lips; the three MoHunds stopped after the first blow was sounded. They sat on the asphalt then waited for the whistle to be blown again.

"Brother, why did you come to this planet again?" TazirVile asked. At the time of his using the whistle to stop the MoHunds from doing what they were, KurukVile had started to head away from the group.

"What kind of question is that?" KurukVile stopped his horse then turned in his saddle. "After I found that you, our sister, and the Ubalki's had made the trip here I decided to put in a call to ask if you wanted my help. After hearing that you did, I packed my family up then drove my ship over here as quickly as I could. I stopped only once to see and have a little chat with my oldest son—who you and Mr. Ubalki had quite a to-do with after you arrived on this planet—then I came here. I'm on this planet to help you find your wife—who also happens to be my granddaughter—and I'm also here to help you find your sons—three, of whom, are my nephews while the oldest of the four happens to be my grandson."

"Why are you calling it quits on this search if what you say is true, then?" TazirVile asked.

"Your hunting canines are leading us nowhere, that's why." KurukVile replied. "You let them sniff four socks that haven't been worn in months; there's no scent trail for them to follow, which is why they're just leading us around in circles."

"If that's true then why have they led us to areas where my sons have been noted as being either in or near?" TazirVile asked.

"Is this one of them known areas where they've been seen in or near?" KurukVile held his hand out; he swept it across the length of the road that he, his brother, Cheshire, Qeeta, and Eldass and Zshon were on. "I highly doubt it. Why would they travel on a road? They have no reason to. They'd be sticking near their mother—wherever Angel is, they will be close by."

While the context of his brother's words were true, he had reason to suspect that his sons were out there, baching it out on their own for reasons that only they knew. Upon his arrival to the planet, he had believed that his nephew had done something to split his wife from their children—Vile's conquest of the American continents happened in May of that year and it wasn't "clean" by any means. According to the memories that he inspected on the day of his arrival to the planet, the ones that his nephew harbored in the deep recesses of his mind, his wife was noted as taking a stand against the army that swept into the area that she and her sons were in. The thought of Vile, or someone associated with Vile, coming upon his family was proven correct but the thought of his nephew's army—or his nephew—doing something to split them apart wasn't verified; from what he saw in his nephew's memories, his nephew didn't know where his wife and sons were and his nephew didn't have his wife.

After paying his nephew a visit, then returning to his ship, the idea of his sons going and doing the bachelor thing came to him. The folder, that had the photographs, and the video logs, that Abevo Speelin, Homsi Modulavich, and the Gzujus twins collected in late-September, was grabbed; he sat then went through every morsel of what was in it. The photographs, and the video footage, that Abevo Speelin showed him on the 27th of September, were looked at first—all of what he looked at revolved around the oldest of his biological sons, who was seen as moving about the city of Bühl a day earlier. Along with looking a little thin, Lhaklar was documented as puffing on a dark-colored cigarette; his son did nothing more than lean against a tall building for all of five minutes before moving off to a jewelry store. Abevo had followed him. The video footage had shown his son purchasing a necklace and two rings from the store that he went into. The video footage had stopped after the purchases were made; Abevo claimed that his camera encountered a problem—it inexplicably stopped working. His employee had continued to follow his son, and document his actions and activities, regardless of the malfunction. Mr. Speelin claimed that he lost track of Lhaklar near a complex of apartment buildings soon after he switched cameras.

The idea that something happened to Angel, and that the boys were doing the bachelor thing, started to form after he did that follow-up review of Mr. Speelin's findings. The idea was still ongoing now, nearly a month after being thought of—it seemed the only logical explanation for what he thought was going on.

After reviewing Mr. Speelin, Mr. Modulavich, and the Gzujus twins' findings on the 27th of September, he got mad; his anger over the belief that his nephew had split his wife off or from their sons had grown to dangerous proportions during the five days that he was forced to stop the trip from Moas to Earth—he was forced to put the trip to a halt for all of five days after a report came in, claiming that a storm was going on in the Kuiper Belt, a region that was behind the last three major planets that were in the Milky Way Galaxy. When he reached his planetary destination, his anger was near to the exploding point; he destroyed a lot of the ozone layers that were present to the planet in his entrance to it and, by his doing that, he had caused all of the erratic weather that was experienced in the last twenty-three days. He, his daughter, his mother and stepfather, and his younger, half-brothers, had paid his nephew a little visit after his ship was landed in a nature reserve that the humans called the Rastatter Rheinaue. All of his anger was released after he saw the building that his nephew was seen in last and, through the events that followed after he sounded his war cry, he discovered a little something that made his blood run cold.

The use of his Telepathy wasn't restricted to just his nephew on October 2—he used it on the man's present staff too. From the memories of the Claydo that worked for his nephew, he had learned that there was someone else hanging around his sons. Someone that was both male and unknown. A darkly skinned individual... an individual who looked to have slighty slanted, glowing yellow eyes and a rather strong body-type that had plenty of muscle on the arms, chest, stomach, and back. After seeing the memory of the unknown male, he had wondered who he was and why he was hanging around his sons. The Claydo didn't known the answers to those questions but, in one of the memories that he had also viewed, he had seen a most unsettling scene unfold where the unknown male had both pushed and then swung at Hazaar. In the memory that he saw, Hazaar had yelled in pain before grabbing at his elbow, which the unknown male's fist had collided with.

Ulok and Olok Gzujus, on the 25th of September, saw his two, younger sons; they took video footage and plenty of photographs of Hazaar and Lazeer when they came upon them—they were in a location in south China that was called Yunnan. While he was surprised over seeing how healthy they were, he was unnerved by the fact that Hazaar was walking around with a right pronounced limp. His secondborn son was doing a lot of complaining about how much his leg was hurting him in the video footage; he had grown rather concerned over that. Why were his two, younger sons in China and why was Hazaar walking around with a limp and what was the reason for Hazaar's leg to be hurting him? Had the unknown male, that he saw in the Claydo's memories, that he forcibly reviewed, hurt one of his younger sons, and was the unknown male the cause for his sons to be baching it?

Interestingly, Vile had taken note of the unknown male on the 29th of August. After seeing a photograph of him, Vile placed a call to his younger brother. In another memory of his nephews that he reviewed on October 2, he saw him asking Triskull a bunch of questions... some, of which, were around the area of unknown child siring. Could Vile of been onto something; there were times when Triskull just disappeared when they were on Earth over two thousand years ago—Triskull was one who liked the ladies, and he did like to spend an off-night with a willing, female partner... could any of them stretches of unknown time on Earth span around his spending some time with a woman, who he, either knowingly or unknowingly, got pregnant? Vile didn't have his wife; could this unknown male of come upon his wife and could he of made the decision to claim her as his and then try to severe his sons' bonds with her by ousting them from the family?

So many could be's and possible's and so many questions that were still not answered. He came close to laughing when he saw the memory of where Vile had incorrectly thought that Lazeer was born after being in his mother for six and a half months. Naturally, since Vile didn't claim Lazeer as one of his grand-get, he didn't know anything about him—this had caused his mistake of thinking that Lazeer was born at six and a half months gestation when, in reality, Lazeer was born after being in his mother's womb for five and a half months. He had kept his brother in the dark about this and he had swore his mother and stepfather, his daughter, Efagti and Amadh, and all of the Goblins that accompanied him to Washington D.C. to secrecy about it. He wanted Kuruk to find out about it on his own—that was why his older, half-brother was claiming that Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer were sticking close to their mother.

"If anyone wishes to follow him do so, I'm following the 'Hunds." TazirVile said. He gave the whistle, that was still in his hand, a blow then he nudged his horse to walk with his heels. As his hunting canines resumed their trek up the road, he found that his sister, stepfather, and Eldass and Zshon were still following him. KurukVile, after a moment's pause to think things over, turned his horse around.

At the same time that KurukVile was thinking that his time was being wasted, the phone lines, that went to the Elchesheim-Illingen polizei station, were ringing almost continuously. The ones who were taking the calls were writing everything down on a piece of paper; after the reports were made, the ones who took the calls would say in the most polite and professional way that they'd send someone over to check into the situation. For some reason, most of the calls were coming from a subdivision that was on the west side of Elchesheim-Illingen called Grün Bach. The reports all claimed the same thing: that a trio of werewolf-like creatures were seen as sniffing around the lower end of Zweig Straße; after sniffing around one of the subdivision's houses, they ran off.

The calls that came in also mentioned that the werewolf-like creatures were followed by six other creatures—everyone was steadfast on saying that three of them looked like Gray Aliens while the fourth looked eerily like Master Vile; the claims on the final two in the group were conflicted. They were said to look like either Trolls or Garden Gnomes. Except for the Troll or Garden Gnome-like creatures, who were said to be driving a buggy, the other creatures were on horseback.

At first, the ones who took the calls thought of them as nothing more than a joke; after so many reports of the same thing started coming in, they began to take them in a more serious way. After ten minutes of hearing the same report over and over again, a dispatcher contacted the towns near Elchesheim-Illingen to see if similar reports were being made and, to that dispatcher's horror and great shock, he found that they were also being made in Au am Rhein, Durmersheim, and Bietigheim. By the time the reports were being looked into, the sun had set. TazirVile and his group were well on their way down the the motorway that Angel and Lhaklar had taken to get to Munich, Germany and Angel and her family and Stefan and his family were starting to enjoy the event that they had traveled to.

"Why'd you do that?" Annelise asked after Lazeer took his goggled glass off. "Don't you need that to see or something?"

"My eye needs to air out some," Lazeer replied. He then said in a more serious tone, "While I have perfect vision, my left eye is sensitive to the sun."

"You wear that glass only—" Annelise started to say.

"—when the sun is out. Since the sun just went down I don't need it anymore." Lazeer finished.

"Pardon me for asking but, that glass looked to be hugging around your eye. Didn't it aggravate the injury that's around your eye?" Rosalinde asked.

"For only a few minutes," Lazeer replied.

He was about to say no but, at the last second, he had decided to be truthful. He had come close to crying after placing his goggled glass over his eye earlier; the edges of the lense had rubbed up against the tender areas of the gash that was across his left eye and the outer edges of the lense had also suction-cupped themselves to the bruised area that was around his eye. After a few minutes of fighting the pain, the pain went away. His mother and brothers had all noticed that he was fighting the urge to cry over the pain that his goggled glass was making him go through; they had waited patiently for him to either get use to having the glass over his eye or to start crying and whining over the pain that the glass was causing him to go through. Lazeer slid the goggled glass, and its elastic band, into the peanut-shaped eyeglass case that he brought along then he quickly slid the eyeglass case into the back pocket of the pair pants that he was wearing. He looked up and then around after his case was put away.

The goggled glass was a good thing—it gave him the ability to go outside when the sun was out; while he was glad to have it, he did have one complaint about it. It sometimes made his eye feel dry and suffocated after he took it off.

After meeting and then speaking with the Leinart family, he walked around the front section of the funfair. When he saw his mother about ten or so minutes later, he decided to go and hang out with her and her friends for a while. He was still with them now.

"Miss. Irene, if I may, are his eye troubles normal?" Rosalinde asked.

"Yes," Angel answered. "He has something called P.S.E, or Photo Sensitive Eye. He got off lucky; while he got the ailment from his father, he didn't inherit the severe form of it. His father has it in both of his eyes; Lazeer only has it in his left eye."

"He looks like he copes with it very well." Rosalinde said.

"He does." Angel said before turning to look at her son. "Why don't you go off and have some fun."

"Giving me the boot eh?" the corners of Lazeer's O-shaped mouth curved up slightly. "Okay, I'll try to not get into much mischief while I'm on my own."

"Stay away from the latrines that are reserved for the ladies, Lazie." Angel said sternly. "And don't go looking over the curtains that are in the tents that have clothing pieces as their merchandise make-ups."

"Ah man, you just took the fun out of the event for me!" Lazeer joked. He then walked off.

"He'll behave himself, right?" Stefan asked.

"While he's a comical type of person, he'll behave himself." Angel replied. "I wouldn't of let him go off on his own if I didn't know he wouldn't behave himself."

"Miss. Irene's like me—she's the enforcer to the laws of the house. If one of her menfolk misbehaves, she'll be on him and fast." Rosalinde said. She then turned to her own children. "Annelise, why don't you take your sister and bruder off to some of the rides. Let your fader and I have some child-free time with Miss. Irene."

"Okay," Annelise said. She and her siblings went towards the part of the funfair that had the amusement rides in it quickly.

After giving them the gentle boot that they needed to go out and have some fun at the fair, their mother said for them to behave themselves. Bile and Lhaklar were having a little issue in doing that. The two had joined-up with Guyunis a few minutes after saying hello to the Leinart family; they were in the area where the beverage tents were. There were many men and women walking around with glass steins that were full of beer and there were several men and women that had brezens—the German variant of a pretzel—or Schweinshaxes—a roasted ham hock—in their hands. The women that were in the section of the fair that they were in were the main reason for why Bile and Lhaklar were having such a difficult time in keeping themselves under control.

The women that were walking around, serving different types of beverages to patrons who they thought were thirsty, were wearing different forms of a dress that was called a Dirndl. Most of the dresses were short. Most of the women that were wearing the dresses had nothing covering their legs, and most of the woman had the blouses that were underneath their bodices pulled down low—so low that their breasts could be seen!

Bile was trying his best to keep his shirt on; on occasion, he would pull the collar of his red-brown shirt, that had two rips in the chest and stomach areas, away from his throat. Lhaklar was trying his best to keep the muscle in his arms loose while Guyunis was constantly shaking his head and blinking his eyes. Bile was about ready to tear his shirt into ribbons when a woman walked up to him.

"Mein guter Herr," the woman, who was wearing a brown dirndl, that had no blouse underneath its bodice, said. The woman had three glass steins, that were full of a dark-colored beer, in her hands; the foam, that was on the drinks, was nearly flowing over the top of the steins. "You three look mighty thirsty; do you wish to indulge in a drink or two with the stein of happiness?"

"I'd much prefer to have a little moment alone with one of the lovely ladies that're walking around here," Bile thought. He cleared his throat then said something to the woman. "Sie müssen unsere Gedanken gelesen haben. Yes, I do think my brothers and I are thirsty."

"Drink and be not thirsty then," the woman pushed one of the steins into Bile's hand; she did the same with Lhaklar and Guyunis. "If you have eyes or interest for anything else, yell."

"Ho-k-t damn!" Guyunis exclaimed, with a sigh.

"Took the words right out of my mouth, Bro." Bile said. He drank a quarter of the beer that was his stein then started to walk again.

They drank their beers slowly before giving their now-empty steins to a woman who was taking the steins from the patrons that had finished their drinks. Soon after doing that, they found another stein being thrust into their hands—the woman who gave them the steins said that they could keep them. They were a sort of souvenir.

Lhaklar's stein was pewter; it had a hunter on horseback, three mountain goats, and three hunting dogs engraved on it. Guyunis's stein was black and horn-shaped; it had red and silver Eagle engravings on it. Bile's stein was also black, but it had a lot of knight and bell pewter designs on it. Bile and his brothers drank their second drinks of the night then sent their souvenirs to the i8 BMW afterwards. After they did that, Bile took his shirt off. The women around him cheered and clapped him on the back after he did so; Bile was given another souvenir stein a second later—this one was made completely of chain-mail.

"Someone's going to be drunker than a skunk in no time." Lhaklar said.

"I'll make sure to do one of them cleansing spells before we join back up with ma and Mr. Leinart." Bile said.

Lhaklar undid half of the buttons that were on his multi-green striped, button down, long sleeve shirt then reached in. He took the cigarette case, that was in the inside pocket of his shirt, out then opened it. The cigarette case, a thin, silver-aluminum box that was four inches long by three and a half inches wide, had six black cigarettes in it that were held tightly by a spring. The front of the cigarette case had an etching of a bull deer jumping over a fallen log on it; the back was bare of any designs. When Lhaklar opened the case, he paused for all of two seconds to look at the red velvet material that lined its interior. After looking at the case's red velvet interior, he took one of the cigarettes out. He slid the cigarette, that he just evicted from the case, into his mouth with one of his hands while he put the cigarette case back into his shirt with the other. He lit the cigarette a second later by making a small flame pop out from the end of the suction cup that was on his left index finger; he took a small drag afterwards. A woman who was wearing a green-colored dirndl walked over then slid a souvenir stein into his hand a half second later; the stein was glass but it had flame designs on it—he found himself as liking the stein's design. He drank the beer that was in the stein then said the spell that sent it to the i8 BMW, where he hoped it'd be safe.

"N-no I'm fine, I'm—" when he turned, he saw that a woman, who was wearing a blue dirndl, was pushing a stein, that had bone designs on it in ivory, into Guyunis's hand. The woman, after reliquishing herself of the stein, walked away without saying a word to any of them.

"Don't sweat it man, enjoy the attention." Bile said after Guyunis's face took on a startled appearance.

"No more af-after this," Guyunis said. He was about to drink the stein's beer when he saw a man, who was standing a short distance from him, throwing what was in his stein at the person that was standing beside him. After taking a few seconds to think this action over, Guyunis turned then threw his stein's contents on Lhaklar.

"Hey!" Lhaklar exclaimed. Bile laughed. "Thanks, G. Now I'm all wet."

"Go-k-t rid of the beer didn't I?" Guyunis crossed his arms over his chest; his legs were held slightly apart; the smile, that was on his face, was very wide.

"Got him good, Bro." Bile said. He clapped Guyunis on the back, hard.

As Bile, Lhaklar, and Guyunis were throwing beer on one another, having a good old time, and gawking at the women that were walking around in the dirndl dresses, Hazaar was doing his utmost best to not let the pain, that he was experiencing in his hip, get to him. His limp was pretty bad, and it was causing him to walk around the fair slowly; it was also causing him to hurt more. While on the drive, he had promised his mother four times that he'd take a breather every twenty minutes; he had also promised to stay out of the areas where there was a lot of human activity going on. Before leaving the house to go to his mother's car after the call was made for everyone to get their shit together so they could go to the fair, he made a trip to the upstairs bathroom. A small, brown paper bag was safely hidden in the back left pocket of his pants; for the last three days, he had pretty much been playing the role of a pill popper—the pain that he was feeling in his hip was bad enough for him to take anywhere between six and eight pain pills a day.

The Aleve, that was in the upstairs medicine cabinet, had done doodley squat for him; he had found that out rather fast. While the Tylenol worked, it only took the bare edge off his pains. The Excedrin Extra Strength worked but it made him feel damn sleepy and fatigued and it only worked to dull the pain for a little under two hours—the pain always returned with a vengeance after that time lapsed.

The only over-the-counter pain medicine that helped him with his pains was the Bufferin; that one, particular medication gave him complete relief from his hip-related pains. He had experienced no side effects at all after he started taking it. He had the entire bottle on him, which was about half-full at the moment. It was time for him to take another capsule; the pain was starting to get to him, but he didn't want to slip the paper bag out from under his shirt just yet. There were too many humans around for him to chance downing one of the white, oval-shaped capsules and he had nothing to wet his throat down with before plopping one of the pills into his mouth. There was mild traffic where he was; while it wasn't the shoulder-to-shoulder type of traffic that was going on in the ride or games sections of the fair and, while it wasn't the elbow-to-elbow type of traffic that was going on where the alcoholic beverages were being handed out, it was enough to keep him from downing his pain-relief medicine.

"Excuse me," Hazaar said when he saw a large, nearly bald man step out from a tent with a glass that had a gold-colored drink in it. The man looked at him then nodded his head before turning and then walking away. Hazaar hesitated for all of a second before going into the tent that the man had come from; the drink that the man was holding hadn't looked like an alcoholic drink to him. If he had to make any guesses as to what the man was drinking, he'd have to say that it was something around the area of apple juice. Hazaar strode up to the first human that he saw in the tent—a woman, who was wearing a rather sexy, green-colored dirndl, that had a white apron over the skirt. Despite his throat nearly closing up on him after he reached her, he managed to choke out his question quickly.

"Ja, sie. Up by the bar; ask specifically for Apfelschorle. Don't ask for anything non-alcoholic, you'll be laughed right out of the fair if you do." the woman replied.

"Danke," he said back.

It took only three minutes. He ordered his drink, then paid for it, then downed it. When he left the tent, he started searching for an area where he could down one of the Bufferin's without being noticed. It took him all of ten minutes before he found such a place; the port-a-potty was dirty, it was smelly, but it had a door and three sides and a top to it that would offer him enough cover to do what he needed to do. He went to it as quickly as his left leg would allow him to. After the door was closed and then locked, he pulled the front of his brown, short-sleeved shirt out from the waist of his pants.

The first thing that fell from his shirt was the Playboy magazine, that he decided to bring along at the last second, while the second thing was the brown paper bag that had the Bufferin pill container in it. He picked the pornographic magazine, and the brown paper bag, up from the floor; the magazine was slid into the back of his pants then the top of the brown paper bag was unraveled. He reached in for the pill bottle then, once the bottle was out of the bag, he unscrewed the cap.

When he left the port-a-potty thirty seconds later, he felt pretty happy. Other than the smell of shit that was wafting around in the box, he was also able to smell the rather heavy aroma of marijuana and tobacco too. After leaving the port-a-potty, he decided to find a bench or something that was placed off to the side somewhere to sit on. He wanted the medicine that he had just taken to take effect before he started making his rounds of the fair's attractions. It seemed that luck was on his side—there was a concrete bench about thirty steps from the port-a-potties.

"If you and Guyunis hadn't fought in the basement, you wouldn't be limping now would you?" his mother asked him yesterday, after he put the blame of his returned limp on Guyunis, after he cripple-walked to the dining room for breakfast. Guyunis gave him a pained look after he said that; his biological brothers had said nothing in regards to what he had said.

"He pushed m—"

"Yes, he did. In self-defense, Hazaar. What was you expecting for him to do after you pushed him down the steps, then after you swung your fist at him?"

As he took a seat on the concrete bench, the entire affair of what happened between him and Guyunis, when they were down in the basement, came to his mind. He felt poorly for what he did! It felt like a ton of bricks was dropped on him.

Three days ago, before noon-hour struck, his mother had asked Guyunis if he could go down to the basement and then get the laundry from the dryer for her. Guyunis had said _sure;_ he went down to do what she had asked him to do afterwards. All of what was in the dryer was taken out and then placed in a woven basket then he started for the stairs that would take him back to the main part of the house. His momma's request for Guyunis to retrieve the dry clothing from the dryer for her was innocently done, and Guyunis's action of going down to the basement to do as she had asked of him to do was also innocently done ... what he did wasn't innocently done.

He was struggling all damn day with his temper. He had nearly gotten into a fight with Lhaklar twice that morning and he had actually gotten into a fight with Bile two hours after breakfast. After breakfast was done in being eaten, Lazeer went straight up to his room to build the WWII German Battle Cruiser Scharnhorst model that he started working on a few days ago; Guyunis went up to his room to grab the novel that he started reading two days earlier. The two hours that happened after he and Bile had their to-do were quiet; he went down to the room that his mother called the Son Cave to pump some iron, and to read some of his magazines in private. His mother had done some laundry, and then watched a little tv, before doing a little house cleaning. She was in the process of getting ready to mop the kitchen and dining room floors when the dryer went off; since she was busy at the time, she asked if Guyunis would go down and retrieve what was in the dryer for her.

He was coming out from the tunnel, that ran out from the side of the basement wall, that was near the washer and dryer, when Guyunis was heading up with the woven basket that had the just-dried clothing in it. He, and his temper, exploded after the sight of several of his pairs of underwear, that were on the basket's laundry pile's top, was seen. He rushed over to Guyunis then... well... yes, like his mother had said, he had pushed Guyunis down the stairs. He had grabbed at the woven basket, had called Guyunis a fool while ripping it from his hands, then had shoved him back. Guyunis's head had come very close to hitting the basement's concrete floor; while he yelled, he hadn't done so in pain. The guy had yelled in shock then, after he started to get on him about his "touching his underwear", and about his "putting his underwear on the top of the clothing pile for all to see", he shot up from the floor. Yes, he had swung his fist at his older, adoptive brother and, yes, they had a fight afterwards.

Guyunis had learned over the past few months that it was okay to fight in self-defense; by observing them when they fought, and through his and their mother's talks on self-defense, the guy had learned and learned well on when to and when not to fight in self-defense. While he landed a few good punches to Guyunis's face and chest he had taken a good many blows to the ribs and back; the fight ended after Guyunis picked him up like a wrestler. Guyunis "body-slammed" him into the washing machine. After he yelled, their mother came tearing down the stairs to put an end to their fight. He had told his mother that Guyunis had simply "pushed" him against the washer—that was a full-out lie; if Guyunis had pushed him against the washing machine, he wouldn't be walking around with such a bad limp. No, Guyunis had body-slammed him into the washing machine. The top of the washing machine had actually caved in after he was slammed into it.

Neither he nor Guyunis had spoken to one another after the fight; it had taken them all of two and a half days before any form of conversation was made. They had stayed cold and distant to one another until that very morning. He had apologized, Guyunis had accepted his apology, then they played one of the video games that was compatible with the Super Dendy game system that was hooked up in the living room. Mom was happy that they were getting along again—a stern warning was given; there were to be consequences the next time such a violent fight was experienced between them,

The consequences could be one of many things: they'd either find their mother chasing them around the house with a big, ol' dish towel; or there'd be a grounding, with heavy chores added on that'd keep them busy for the entire time that they were grounded; or they'd be missing out on a monthly allowance.

Naturally, he and Guyunis had given her their word on not causing or having anymore violent fights. They went their separate ways. There were no other fights between them; he had sure run his mouth a lot after their fight, though.

"Oh, datty can I? Can I please?" Hazaar watched as a little girl, who looked no more than six or seven years old, began to tug on her father's hand. The father looked up at the dark sky; the crescent-shaped moon was mildly bright and the reason for that was because of the fair's bright lights.

"I don't think so, Lara." the father said to his daughter, who was now giving him an angry look. "You've had two brezen's, a streusel, a thing of potato skins, and a big thing of potato chips. I think you've had enough."

"No! No! I want—"

The father pulled his daughter along; Hazaar heard the young child begging for one more thing to eat before they left the fair and he also heard the father say no again and again. Hazaar nearly started laughing after the father-daughter pair walked off—why, something similar had happened with him and Lazeer when they were very little! Their mother had taken them, and Bile and Lhaklar, to one of the fairs that was near their home in Canada one day. While Bile and Lhaklar were well-behaved, he and Lazeer weren't. He and Lazeer were practically pulling their mother from one food vendor to another in their excitement to "try out every food that was in the fair". They had also done—or tried to do—the same thing with the fair's game stands and booths. Their mother had given them a few swats on the behind from time to time, and she was constantly telling them to behave themselves, and to slow down; she was quite tired, and a little pissed off when they went home. Although his mother said that she was never going to take them to another fair again afterwards, she took them to the fair that happened the following year. They did the same thing in that one too.

This memory was fresh on his mind when he got up from the bench. He felt a little pain in his hip but not much; the slight limp that he had he was okay with. While he had a mind to head over to where the carnival rides were, he felt a need to check out the small building that was across from the bench that he had just gotten up from.

The building was just about as big as one of the abandoned buildings that were in the Americas—the ones that use to be used by the Subway sandwich and salad restaurants—and, curiously, it looked almost like it was made out of a durable, metal-like substance. The building was pretty well lit up; the outside of the building, under the sign and marquee, glowed a light yellow color. The building's roof was obscured by a huge sign that had wines, cheeses, and grapes on it. The sign also had a large cheese wheel on it. There were yellow and pink LED lights going along the outer edges of the sign; the cheese wheel-part of the sign had yellow LED lights on it. The cheese wheel had the words Feisingers Kas on it; the yellow and red LED illuminated letters, that were beside the cheese wheel, spelled out Und Weinstubn. There was a marquee under the sign. It was light yellow and it had five words on it that were done in red paint. Hazaar had no idea what Ofenkartoffeln, Raclette, Schnitzel, Kässpatzen, and Schupfnudeln meant but he had a strange feeling that there was something that revolved around cheese on the building's menu. Before going into the building, he noticed that it was sitting on a solid sheet of gleaming metal. He guessed that the building was one of them portable types and he also guessed that the metal sheet was there as an aid to the humans when it was time to move it from the fairgrounds.

"I'm surprised that, after nearly three weeks of bad weather, this place isn't bursting from the seams." a man who had short, gray-brown hair growing out from the sides and back of his head was saying when Hazaar entered the building.

"Give it time, the 'grounds don't shut down until three o'clock. There's plenty of time for the seams to be burst here." another man, this one having short, brown hair, said.

Some of the building's patrons turned to look at Hazaar after he came in then made his way towards the cash registers—which were on a long, dark brown counter, that was in the far back of the building. The woman, that was behind the second cash register, glanced in his direction before going back to collecting the spilled napkins that came out of the napkin holder that was beside her register; the man that walked out of the doorway, that was between the wine shelves, stopped, gave him a stare that lasted for all of five seconds, then turned and went back into, what Hazaar believed, was the kitchen.

Hazaar couldn't believe how little space there was in the building; the aisle, that went from the front door to the counter, was a little wider than the aisles that ran between some of the tables. Yellow ribbons and green leaf garland were either wrapped around or hanging from the ceiling's foists; there were vintage, wrought iron chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and there were thin, white curtains in front of the building's windows. Nothing really changed after he entered the building. The humans continued to have their conversations and they continued to eat and drink what was in front of them. The woman that was collecting the spilled napkins said nothing to him as he walked up to the cashier that was beside hers.

"Hello and welcome to Feisingers Kas und Weinstubn," a pretty, dark blonde-haired woman, who had green eyes set in a triangular-shaped face, said after he walked up to her cash register. "How may I help you on this fine evening?"

"What kinds of cheeses does this place offer in its dishes?" Hazaar asked.

"All kinds," the woman answered. When the woman smiled at him, he struggled to retain the blush that wanted to spread across his cheeks. "We have round smoked, Bavarian blue mold, Bavarian Emmentaler, and Limburger."

"Do you sell them separately, or are they just added to an ordered dish?" Hazaar asked.

"They're added to the dish that you order."

The woman waited patiently as he checked the menu then asked a few questions on what all was offered in the basic dishes. He nearly ordered the Kässpatzen—a dish that was made of flour, eggs, salt, water, and a lot of Bavarian cheese—, and he came very near to ordering a pretzel that had a layer of molten cheese on it, but, in the end, he decided to go for the Raclette, which was a dish that consisted of either potatoes or bread that was covered in a molten cheese of the orderers preference. When the woman asked him if his order was for take-out or not he replied with take-out then stepped to the side. The man who was waiting semi-patiently behind him took his place rather quickly.

He had been a cheese lover for as long as he could remember. His mother claimed that she was a super cheese freak right from the start of her pregnancy and she also claimed that, after she gave birth to him, she continued to have a heavy craving for cheese products for six straight months. He had asked her once what kinds of cheese she consumed during her pregnancy with him; she came back with a long list of cheeses that nearly made his jaw drop to the floor. She claimed that she consumed Shredded cheese, String cheese, Spray cheese, Cheddar cheese, Swiss cheese, Mozzarella cheese, Muenster cheese, and pretty much all of the cheese spreads that were in the cabinets that were in his father's house along with a cheese that was only made in Moas that she called Green Cheese. Human scientists claimed that a fetus's taste buds were molded by what their mother ate during her pregnancy; the scientific papers, that went out hundreds of years before his birth, had all claimed that a pregnant woman "trained" her unborn fetus's taste buds by what she ate and drank. If what his mother had told him was true, he was sure proof of them scientists' findings. He had a feeling that his preference for pasta, raisin bread, corn bread, and crackers was something that he had also picked up from his mother from when he was in her womb.

He found himself as being a bit reluctant to pay for the Raclette after the woman that took his order brought it over to the counter; there was a fine, billowy smoke coming up from the molten round cheese that was poured over three, whole-smoked white potatoes. The dish had no smell to it but it did look rather hot so, when he picked the bowl up, he was careful to balance it on the palm of his hand. He paid the woman for the dish then left the building; like with the reluctancy to pay for the meal, he felt a reluctance to eat what was in the white foam bowl. When he decided to take a bite, he found that the taste was so dreadfully awful that he nearly tossed the meal in the trash. He forced himself to eat half of the Raclette as he went towards the far back of the fair, where all of the rides were. He was just nearing the first ride that was on the fairgrounds when he decided to toss the half-eaten Raclette in the trash. He bought a bottle of water soon after doing that then, after the after-taste was washed away, he decided to go on and get a soft pretzel. By comparison, the soft pretzel was ten times better in taste than the Raclette that he had eaten only half of. He was about to go grab himself another soft pretzel when his eye landed on Lazeer, who was the very last person in the line that went to the Frisbee ride. Hazaar forgot all about getting another soft pretzel. He decided to go ride some of the rides before eating anything else.

"You're going to blow that," Hazaar said after getting in line behind his younger brother. Lazeer had a German Twist—a rich and tender, sour cream and yeast cookie, that was right long, and that had several twists to it—in his hand.

"Yeah, probably all over you." Lazeer said back meanly.

"Gross!"

Hazaar was quick to notice two things about his younger brother; the first, of which, was very obvious while the second took him a short two minutes to figure out. Lazeer either went and played some of the games that were scattered in the oddest of places in the fair or he went and bought a few souvenirs for himself. The dark gray hat, that was on his head, had a wide brim on it; the rope, that was around the hat's crown, was blue and white. It had an Oktoberfest 4100 pin on it. The little bear, that was in one of his brother's hands, was wearing a red-checkered shirt and a pair of brown lederhosen—or knee-high breeches, that looked to of been made out of real leather. Hanging from around his brother's neck was a plastic, heart-shaped cookie that had imitation frosting designs on the outer edges. The wording on the plastic cookie said simply: Gruß vom Oktoberfest or Greetings from Oktoberfest. It was through a little light teasing about the souvenir teddy bear that he discovered the second thing that was going on with Lazeer.

Lazeer was going through a Temper moment which, like his own, seemed to almost always pop up at the damnedest of times.

"I take it that you've done nothing but hobble around for an hour and forty minutes," Lazeer said. He practically ripped the German Twist in half when he went to take a bite of it. He heard a grating and a crunching sound as his teeth grinded the cookie into swallowable pieces.

"No, I had something to eat." Hazaar replied. "You know how I am with cheese, right? I ate something that had cheese on it; I only got halfway done with it before tossing it in the trash. Had a soft pretzel afterwa—"

"That's nice." Lazeer said. He finished the rest of his German Twist by simply cramming it into his mouth. He chewed the other half of the cookie quickly before swallowing it. He walked forward when one of the Frisbee ride's operators started to usher in the next thirty people that would take up the ride's available seating.

The operator, a squat, auburn-haired man, who had brown eyes and a face full of a freckles, told Lazeer to walk forward then held his hand out for Hazaar to stop. Lazeer felt a tiny bit of hope rise within his agitation-filled heart; he felt the hot blood, that was coursing through his veins, cool down a little after he was finally allowed to get on the Frisbee ride that he had been waiting to get on for nearly ten minutes. The outward facing seats that he was walking towards were on a large, circular-shaped gondola. They were made out of a thick, red plastic material; each of the seats had a little lip in them that kept the passenger from slipping out of his or her seat while the ride was in motion. After taking a seat, Lazeer reached up for the black, U-shaped, over-the-shoulder safety restraint that was attached to the top of his seat. It made a clicking sound after the safety lock slid into the buckle.

Lazeer was just taking a deep breath in when the operator gave Hazaar his cue to come forward. There was just one seat left on the ride and it was on Lazeer's right; Hazaar claimed it quickly and quietly. He swung the safety restraint down over himself after sitting down then he waited for the human that was making her rounds in checking to see if everyone on the ride was seated appropriately and to see if all of the safety restraints had locked correctly. Lazeer said nothing to his brother and his brother said nothing to him as they waited for the human, a woman who had long, black hair, that was half-braided, to finish making her rounds in checking the seats over. As Lazeer waited for the woman to reach him he thought back to what all he had done and gone through in the past hour and forty minutes.

His attendance at the fair had started innocently; after getting "the boot" from his mother, he wandered around for a short while, getting his bearings, and taking in the sights and the smells, and getting a general idea of what the fair was like. After ten minutes of simply walking around, of ducking into this tent and that tent, and of checking things out that were in this portable building and that portable building, he decided to get down to business in having some fun. Instead of walking to the far back of the fair, where the rides were, he teleported. The first ride that he went on was the Swing ride—which was also commonly called the Swing Carousel, the Wave Swinger, the Yo-Yo, and the Chair-O-Planes. The Swing ride was right boring for him; he did nothing but sit in a suspended chair, with his hands loosely wrapped around the chains, that were attached to the rotating top of the carousel, in boredom for nearly three minutes. He was glad when the ride was over.

After getting off that ride, he decided to go off and find a ride that was more appropriate for him. He didn't go far before his eyes landed on the Olympia Looping ride, which was set-up behind the normal carousel.

He didn't leave that ride disappointed; there were five loops, and several high-climbs, to the Olympia Looping. He couldn't remember how many turns the ride had to it. He left that ride with a wide smile on his face; if the line wasn't as long as it was, he'd of gone on it again.

He had always been a roller coaster lover. He had always loved the roller coasters that were fast, and that had multiple loops and twists and turns to them, and he had always loved the roller coasters that had them high climbs. He liked the adrenaline rush that them types of roller coasters gave him. They made him feel happy. They were also a sort of medicine for him—they helped him keep his moods in check and they sort of took away any and all troubles that he had. After going on the Olympia Looping ride, he decided to go souvenir shopping. When he was wandering around the front of the fair he had noticed that the souvenir carts, booths, and stands were set-up in odd little places so he knew that he'd be walking around for a while. It was during his search for a souvenir vendor that he felt his mood start to change.

In a way, he should of been on the look-out for such a mood change to happen. He went three and a half weeks without having any emotional fits. He hadn't had any teary moments after seeing the color red, and he hadn't had any physical altercations with his brothers, and, despite getting into a little trouble over an off-joke that his mother had either not understood or had disapproved of, he had stayed good. While he was wandering around the back portion of the fair, looking for a souvenir cart or stand, he battled his changing moods. He had wanted to stay happy and joyous—he was at a fair; he should be happy and he should be having fun. He shouldn't be getting agitated or angry and he shouldn't have to worry about having an emotional breakdown either. He had very nearly won that battle when his eyes landed on a red neon sign, that said something about beer and pretzels. His agitation had given way to complete hysteria! His eyes had watered and he had started to cry right after seeing that sign, which had been damn embarrassing.

Unlike Hazaar, who was experiencing the Temperamental phase in a more tempered sort of way, he was experiencing both the emotional and the anger-filled sides of the phase at the same time. If he so much as saw the color red, he broke down in tears. If he so much as saw a butterfly, he broke down in a crying fit. If he so much as heard one of them songs that revolved around romance on the radio, he was sure to be needing a napkin to wipe the tears from his cheeks. It was embarrassing, it was stupid, and he hated it! He was a boy! He was of the male gender for goodness sake! He should have more control of his emotions; he shouldn't be made to cry that easily! Since there were some port-a-potties nearby, he decided to go wait out his sudden bout of embarrassing hysteria in one of them. He had spent every bit of ten minutes in one of them damn port-a-potties bawling his eyes out. When he came out from the port-a-john, he had felt a little better; he had gotten some control over his emotions. After his hysteria subsided, he resumed his search for a souvenir stand. He had walked around a little before coming upon a cart that was operated by a rather kind, little old lady.

"My, do my eyes deceive me? Is one of the children of my planet's guardian in my midst?" the old lady had said in a dry, cough-like voice after he walked up to her cart.

"Yes ma'am," he replied. "The youngest."

They exchanged a few words. She asked him a few questions about his mother, and about himself and his brothers, then he purchased the last teddy bear that was on her cart. The teddy bear, she said after he expressed a wish in wanting to purchase it, wasn't for sale—one of the lederhosen's shoulder straps was ripped. While he had understood her reason for not wanting to sell a bear that wasn't mint-in-condition he had still wanted the bear. After telling the lady that he didn't mind buying a teddy bear that had rips or tears in its clothing, and after showing her his dark gray pants, that had tears in the knees, she asked him if he was truly serious in wanting the bear. He had said yes; she practically gave him the bear for free. The plastic gingerbread cookie, that was hanging from around his neck, had cost him five euros. After thanking her, he went on his way.

Another souvenir cart was found five minutes later; the experience with the operator of that cart wasn't pleasant. Instead of having a pleasant conversation with the man who manned the cart, he and the the man had talked little and the man had overcharged him for the wide brimmed, dark gray, Peasant hat that had an Oktoberfest 4100 pin hanging from the blue and white rope that was tied around its crown. After that purchase was made, his agitation returned. He had also found himself as being very hungry too.

He figured that he'd have his hunger taken care of in nothing flat; he had underestimated how hungry he was and he had also underestimated how agitated he was. He wasn't fully sure of what all he had consumed; all he knew was that he had eaten two fried Halibut's on a stick, a bratwurst, and he also had two plates of Streusel. He was vaguely aware that he also consumed a thing of potato chips before deciding to head back to where the rides were. He didn't know how many of the German Twist cookies he consumed between riding the Power Tower II and the Fireball; all he really knew was that he had blown maybe fifty euros of what he had on him on food and that knowledge of what all he had left over for souvenir shopping, and for picking something up for his mother and brothers, wasn't making his mood any better. By the time Hazaar joined him in the Frisbee ride's line, he was thinking about going home. His present mood wasn't making the fair enjoyable and he was sure as hell not having any fun.

"All clean, Leon!" the woman, who had just gotten through checking the ride's seats, yelled.

The gondola, that all thirty of the ride's seats were attached to, started to move very slowly after the woman gave the man that was at the controls his cue to get the ride going; Lazeer felt a light breeze brush up against the side of his face and he saw the fair in front of him swing slowly to the right. When the sturdy pendulum, that the gondola was attached to, reached a climb of 45 degrees, it stopped then started to swing over to the left. While Lazeer knew that it'd take a short thirty seconds for the pendulum's motion to pick up, he found himself being bored. As the pendulum finished another 45° climb, the gondola started to rotate; Lazeer found himself grabbing the safety harness that was around his upper torso when the gondola's motion began to pick up. When the pendulum did a near one hundred degree climb, his arms broke out in goosebumps. By the time the pendulum did a 110° climb, Hazaar and the other passengers were crying happily. Lazeer remained quiet for the first half of ride's climbs then he joined in after the pendulum did a 260° climb.

"Oooooohhhh shit!" Lazeer screamed when the pendulum started swinging to the right after it finished its first 260° climb.

The wind that was hitting Lazeer's face made his eye injury sting a little. He ignored the pain. He was now starting to feel some relief over the sudden agitation that he was feeling. The pendulum finished its second climb at another 260 degrees then it swung back again; Lazeer screamed as the pendulum did three more 260° climbs then he snapped his eyes shut when the pendulum did two 360° climbs. After the pendulum did them two, 360° climbs, it started to slow down, which made Lazeer feel sad. Five minutes of agitation relief... five minutes of relief from his current mood. He wished that the ride would go on for another five minutes but, sadly, he knew that it wouldn't. The ride was over. It was time for him to get out of his seat and it was time for him to go off in search of some other ride to get on and, even more sadly, it was time for him to resume the fight in trying to control his emotions.

"Man, that was great!" Hazaar exclaimed after he and his brother left the ride that they had just rode on. "Maybe not as great as that one ride that we went on in the States—the one that left us needing a new pair of drawers—but great nonetheless."

"Mhmmm." Lazeer grumbled. He wished that his brother would go somewhere else. His mood was growing worse; he could feel it and, what's worse, he had a feeling that it was Hazaar's over-excitement that was causing it to be get worse.

"You remember the ride that you went on five years ago—after you and I got home after we and Lhaklar graduated from the University of Telepathy?" Hazaar asked. "Mom took us, Bile, and Lhaklar to the Central Wyoming Fair and Rodeo in Casper as a first officially-out-of-school family activity. Lhaklar damn near needed to have a whole new set of clothes after he rode the Bull 'N Begone and we had to lie down for ten minutes after we rode the Flip 'N Freeze. Remember how Bile tried to get in on the bull wrestling and goat chasing that was going on in the corrals?"

"I rem—"

"Momma wouldn't let him!" Hazaar went on. Lazeer felt his left hand close up in a fist over the sudden over-excited interruption. "She and he got into a fight over it and we nearly went home afterwards. We begged her to not take us home—we nearly got on our knees! Bile was told he couldn't do anything at the fair for twenty minutes afterwards."

"Uh-huh,"

"Did you do a spell to keep that silly hat of yours on your head?" Hazaar asked. He was just not seeing how agitated his brother was. He was blinded by his excitement. "I thought you looked funny in Mr. Lihdrel's Potions and Spells class with that baggy robe that you always came in with; that hat makes you look even funnier."

He weathered through Hazaar's over-excitement, and his teasing and pick-on's, for as long as he could. His temper grew worse over a five minute period; when he felt that he was going to explode, he started searching for a dumpster to hide behind. He was hoping to throw a few punches at the backside of a dumpster in private. He was hoping that, by way of using a dumpster as a punching bag, he'd feel better and he was hoping that, by the time he found a dumpster to hide behind, Hazaar would of decided to leave him alone. Sadly, when he found himself a dumpster that was placed nearly out of sight from the humans that were enjoying the fair, Hazaar didn't break off from him. Hazaar followed him to and then around the dumpster; Lazeer pretty much decided to let all of his aggression out at once and he decided to let it all out on his brother instead of on the side of the dumpster. He turned around then swung his fist; Hazaar yelled after his fist collided with his jaw then rushed forward. Before the security guard walked around the dumpster, to put an end to their fight, Lazeer lunged for his brother. He and Hazaar exchanged punches, and kicks, for a little while before he grabbed his brother around the waist. He heaved him up then threw him down; Hazaar, along with losing half of his breath, yelled in pair after his left hip struck the concrete. After yelling, he struggled to his feet. Before Lazeer could give his brother a kick in the ribs, he found a pair of arms wrapping around his waist. The security guard lifted him clean off his feet then, with a twist, slammed him face-first into the side of the dumpster.

"That's enuff me fione boys." the guard, who had red-brown hair, and blue eyes, and who spoke with an Irish accent, said. As he spoke, he kept Lazeer firmly against the side of the dumpster. "There be plen-tay o' thangs for ye to do here an' yet here ye is. Fussin' an' fightin' behind a dir-tay doompster."

"S-s-sorry sir," Hazaar said. He was gasping for air. He was trying his best to get his wind back, and he was also trying to figure out what had just happened. Here he was, being excited about the fair, and trying to get his brother to feel just as excited as he, and what happens? His brother attacks him. "W-we didn't m-mean to—"

"Don't ye talk now, jus' ye two be gettin' along. No mo' fightin', ye is at a fair. Ye two have fun now." the guard said. He released Lazeer, who wheeled himself around. The guard took note of the look that was on Lazeer's face before reaching his hand down. Hazaar gasped after he saw the Irish guard rip his nightstick out from his belt; the guard pulled his nightstick back then shoved it forward, into Lazeer's stomach. He shoved it hard enough to remove all of the fight that had still been in Lazeer. "Now then, do ye need another of me stick in yer gut my foine boyo?"

"N-n-n-no sir," Lazeer said. He was just as shocked as Hazaar was over the guard's actions. "I'll b-b-behave, I swear I will!"

"Good now, ye two be goin' on now an' ye stay out o' trouble." the guard said. He gave his nightstick a twirl before sliding it back into its slot on his belt.

The guard whistled as he walked away; Hazaar crawled over to his younger brother, who was starting to slip into another emotional episode. Hazaar had seen guards and cops on tv shows do what the Irish fellow had just done but he had never in his wildest dreams thought that something done on a tv show would been done in real life. Hazaar pulled Lazeer's red mesh shirt up; there was a darkening area, that was about the size of a fifty cent piece, above Lazeer's belly button from where the nightstick had struck. Hazaar grimaced then placed his arm around his brother's shoulder. Lazeer apologized for the fight; he apologized for all of what he said before they had their fight; then he apologized for what happened between he and the guard between hitching sobs. Hazaar said that it was okay. It took all of ten minutes for Lazeer to calm down and to catch his breath; after both things were achieved, he stood up then started to walk away. While his hip was hurting him, Hazaar limped off in pursuit of his brother. He struggled to catch up and he struggled to not give the guard that used his nightstick on his brother a scowl when he walked by him a few minutes later.

"Lazeer, stop." Hazaar said. He grabbed his brother's arm then pulled him to a stop. They were near some concrete benches; Hazaar pulled him over to one of them. He made his brother sit on one of them. "Take a twenty-minute breather; momma wouldn't want you walking around in your state, y'know."

"Won't do any good," Lazeer said back.

"Sure it w—"

"Hazaar, you there? You doing alright out there?" Hazaar jumped when he heard his mother's muffled voice coming from his pant's pocket; he fished the communicator, that was in the left pocket of his red pants, that had faded areas in the thigh and knee areas, quickly.

"Hi, momma! I'm fine; I'm taking a break right now from doing the rides but I'm having fun." Hazaar said into his communicator. "Think you can make it possible for me to live here, momma? I can see myself living here year-in and year-out."

"I bet you can and I bet I'd be broker than a skunk if you was allowed to live at a fair all year." his mother said. Hazaar turned to look at Lazeer, who was taking his hat off. Hazaar lunged for his brother when he saw that he was about to set the hat on fire; he grabbed the hat then he placed it beside Lazeer. "I thought I'd call in and check up on you. You haven't consumed any alcohol have you? How's your leg?"

"I've felt some pain but it's bearable; I haven't had anything other than a bottle of water, and this apple juice-tasting drink that the humans call Apfelschorle, to drink." Hazaar said back. "I had a little something to eat too."

"Alright, you be careful out there with the booze—its being handed out like it's water here. I don't want you drinking anything alcoholic. You know what'll happen if I catch wind of you drinking anything that has alcohol in it." his mother said. She had a stern hint in her voice that Hazaar took seriously. Although he wasn't a "booze" virgin by any means—he consumed his first beer, a Miller Lite, three years ago when he and Bile and Lhaklar went to a sort of Flea Market fair in Fremont County, Wyoming—, he had no plans in consuming anything alcoholic at the fair that he and his family were at. The first beer that he downed hadn't really appealed to him; he had drank it and he was glad for that first taste of alcohol but he hadn't really had a liking towards it. He had tried Bud Light soon after; he liked that beer a lot better. It had a better taste to it.

"I know—I'll be careful, and I'll watch what I drink, I promise." Hazaar promised.

"I'll be holding you to that promise now. You be good and have fun, I best let you go now."

"Momma, wait. You contacting everyone, right? Bile, Lhaklar, Guyunis, and Lazeer?" Hazaar put the outer edge of the suction cup that was on the end of his left index finger in his mouth. He chewed on the suction cup for all of five seconds as he waited on his mother's reply.

"Yes, why?"

"Lazeer's with me; no need for you to waste time in contacting him." Hazaar said. Lazeer gave him a strange look. Hazaar shrugged his shoulders then continued talking into his communicator. "He's going through the final motions of a tempered moment—I'm staying nearby to keep watch of him."

"Is he okay? Hazaar, you tell me the truth now. Is your brother okay?" now his mother sounded right concerned. Hazaar fought the urge to put the suction cup, that he just chewed on, back in his mouth.

"He's fine—just quiet. I found him coming out of one of them port-a-john's about fifteen minutes ago; think he was trying to wait out his moment in the john." Hazaar replied quickly.

"You two take it easy for a few minutes; you have plenty of time to enjoy the activities in this place. Hazaar, you make sure to sit down plenty. Don't put but so much stress on that hip of yours."

He said that they would then, after his mother relayed where she was, and what she was doing, he put his communicator back in the pocket that he took it from. Lazeer, Hazaar noticed two minutes later, looked to of gone from a periwinkle-blue color to a blue-green color. His face was contorted; he was swallowing every few seconds; and he had his arms wrapped around his stomach tightly. Without putting much thought into it, Hazaar dived for the nearest trash can. He grabbed the can then pulled it over to his brother who, not one second later, got sick in it. Just about everything that his brother had consumed over the last hour came up in one, violent purge. When Lazeer was through getting sick, he sat back on the concrete bench. While Lazeer's arms were still wrapped around his stomach, he did look a little better in the face. Hazaar walked the trash can back to where he retrieved it from then he went back to his brother; it took all of thirty-five minutes for his brother to regain control of himself. After Lazeer got control of himself, he stood up. He thanked his brother for sticking by his side during his time of need then they went towards a ride that was called The Hurricane. They were just getting in line when their father's MoHund's started to climb a hill that was seven and a half miles away from the fairgrounds.

The going was slow for the animals that were ascending the hill for a reason—they were tired. As if to emphasize this, each of the animals, from the canines to the horses, were drenched from head to foot in sweat; their movements, along with looking to take forever to do, seemed to hurt. Whenever one of the horses, that were behind the MoHunds, were forced to move forward, they'd grunt then protest the command that they were given.

In a way, the people that were on the backs of the horses understood why all of the protests were being made. The horses had been chasing after the MoHunds for a right long time—there were very few breaks in-between the craziness that followed the MoHunds' baying and howling after they picked up a scent trail.

When the three hunting canines, that were known to their owner, breeder, and trainer as MoHunds, reached the crest of the hill, they stopped. The two, male animals were fast in sitting on their haunches; the female MoHund slowly stretched her neck down to the ground. The lone female of the hunting canines sniffed the ground at her feet as she slowly made her way to the edge of the hill's crest; she was equally slow in making her way down the hill's side. Her two companions remained at the top of the hill; along with shaking in exhaustion, their sides were rising and falling in rapid succession. The bigger of the two animals also had blood coming out of his nostrils.

When first equine reached the top of the hill, he stopped then dropped his head. KurukVile was fast in dismounting from the horse's back; he gave his stallion a pat on the shoulder then turned to look at the dazzling display of lights that were directly in front of him.

"Two hours and forty-five minutes of following these mangy mutts leads us to this? We damn near drove all of our horses to death in following these damn dogs and this is our reward... this is our destination?" KurukVile thought angrily. He was offended by the sight that was in front of him. Without putting much thought into it, KurukVile stomped over to the MoHund that was closest to him. He gave the animal a good kick with his boot then went back to his horse; the MoHund yelped then tried to get up. With a cry, the MoHund dropped to his side. He had only been able to hoist half of his body up. KurukVile undid the cinch that was around his stallion's girth then backed up without showing any care in the world over the MoHund's troubles.

As KurukVile pulled his heavy saddle from his stallion's back, he started to think about the things that he could of done in the near three hours that he was out, following his younger, half-brother's hunting canines.

His lovely wife had said that she could handle the children while he was away; he could imagine the fights that she had to break up during his absence and he could imagine what all punishments were put on Baruk and Sudir for whatever bad deeds they did since Papa Bear decided to go off and leave the roost. Kaasa was a good girl; while she did tend to stay out of trouble, she did have her moments where she caused chaos in the family and there were moments where he and his wife had to discipline her. Baruk and Sudir acted more their gender; they liked to act tough, and get into trouble, and they did like to get into them brotherly brawls that sometimes got nasty. How many phone calls had he missed since going out to join this nonsense of a mission? How many phone calls from his father, from his grandfather, and from his two, older children had he missed? It was getting near to dinner-time; if he wasn't where he was now, he'd be getting ready to sit at the table with his family. What was his family about to sit down to eat? What had Irka decided to cook for dinner tonight? How many of the staff had Irka had to get on during his absence? The list just went on and on for him; the longer he thought over what all could of happened during his absence at his camp, the angrier he became.

Sehedor was like the other horses—he was tired, and sweaty. He _was_ hot but he wasn't blowing and his legs looked to be fine but, to be on the safe side, KurukVile bent down. He ran his hands down the length of all of his stallion's legs then he heaved a sigh of relief afterwards—Sehedor might of been driven hard over the last two hours and forty-five minutes but his legs were good and cool to the touch and there didn't seem to be anything amiss under the flesh. KurukVile stood up; he checked his stallion's eyes. He nodded his head after seeing that his horse had the same old shine in his icy-blue eyes; he gave the animal another comforting pat on the shoulder before stepping away.

The only real break that his horse had gotten during his hard run was when they reached the city of Ulm—the MoHunds had stopped running. They had simply walked around with their noses to the asphalt. All of the horses were walked for nearly thirty minutes before the chase was resumed.

The damn canines had run a rough course through some of the most torturous of terrain to the abandoned municipality of Holzheim then they took them to a near city-sized town called Ichenhausen then they charged right through to the sparsely populated municipality of Dinkelscherben before stopping. His brother's stepfather's horse was blowing by then and so had the mare that his and Tazir's sister was riding; the mare that was pulling the wagon that Eldass and Zshon had rode on during the entire trip was near to collapsing by then and Sehedor was demanding a break. The horses had gotten a few minute break before the chase was resumed; the damn MoHunds had led them straight through Diedorf—yet another city-sized town—then they sped through the major city of Augsburg. He had stopped looking at the town signs afterwards. He was too involved in keeping control of his horse, and in worrying about his horse's condition, to keep his eye on the signs. He hadn't really paid any attention to Rhoosod, the young stallion that his brother was riding, but he guessed that he also needed a long break.

How many quarter cracks were in his horse's hooves? How were the sesamoid bones and the pasterns? Sehedor was a very valuable animal; he had done a lot of whooping when the stallion was born—he was a rather unique horse in his stable! Most of the time, his Gamma Drafts were a plain gray or had dapples on them; sometimes, a foal had a blaze or a snip or even a faint stripe going down its face. He had only had a small handful of bald-faced foals born in his stable; Sehedor was the only horse born in his stable to have both a bald face and ice-blue eyes. Sehedor was a young, fast, and strong horse; he'd do more than yell in rage if anything amiss showed up in his horse after this long, torturous run. If so much as a limp or a hoof wall crack was noticed, or if his horse started to have problems breathing, or went off his feed, there was going to be a certain brother of his getting a good kick in the ass. KurukVile ran his hand down the length of his horse's face then glanced at the two MoHunds, that were now lying on the ground on their sides.

"Should of known better than to say yes on joining this crazy parade," KurukVile said as TazirVile's stallion stepped up onto the hill's crest. KurukVile turned towards his younger, half-brother then pointed towards the bright lights, that were nearly eight miles away. "Look here! Look at where your mutts have led us. We ran our horses nearly to death for nothing—I hope you're happy!"

He saw it but, before voicing his opinion on the trip to their current location, he dismounted from Rhoosod's back. While Rhoosod's exhaustion was like Sehedor's he was exhibiting something that Sehedor wasn't—he was very lathered up, and he was blowing rather loudly. TazirVile undid the cinch that was around the girth of his horse then threw the saddle from his horse's back. Rhoosod's flea-bitten gray coat was dark with sweat; his creamy mane and tail were matted heavily with lather; and he had blood dripping from both of his nostrils. Without putting much thought into it, TazirVile ran over to the saddle that he just threw from his horse's back. He dug the water bottles, that he always put in the saddle bags before going on a lengthy trip, out then he ran over to his horse's head. He ripped the cap off the first bottle then, with his Elemental Water powers, he made a stream of water float up from the bottle. His horse shuddered, then pulled back in shock, then calmed down after the water stream hit his mouth; Rhoosod drank all of the water that was in the bottle slowly before dropping his head low. TazirVile checked his stallion's eyes quickly; he saw light in them, which was good—his stallion was exhausted but his spirit and heart looked to still be intact. TazirVile went back for the silver bowl, that was in the saddle bag, that was opposite the one that he got the water bottles from; he poured the water from the other water bottle into the bowl then placed the bowl down, in front of his horse. Rhoosod, at first, ignored the water then, after his owner picked the bowl up, then held it for him, he lunged for it.

"I should of called in for a fresh mount," TazirVile moaned. The muscles, that were in KurukVile's arms, grew tense at his brother's words. "We practically ran ourselves r—"

"Are you _insane_!" KurukVile bellowed. "We came very near to _killing_ our horses! You and them mutts of yours, if—"

"My "mutts" were only doing what they've been bred and trained to do, Kuruk." TazirVile replied quickly. "They were following a trail, my sons—"

"They ran _blind_! There was _no_ trail! They ran for the sheer _thrill_ of running and they very nearly—"

"They ran us around for a reason." TazirVile said. He took the iron bit from Rhoosod's mouth then stepped back.

When they heard a huffing sound coming from behind them, they turned then watched as Cheshire led a tall, sleekly built, black horse, that's face was evenly split down the middle by a bright, white blaze, up onto the hill's crest. KurukVile had to shake his head at the horse that Cheshire was leading; his half-brother's stepfather was probably going to be putting in more than a full-nighter in keeping watch of his horse after they got back to camp and Cheshire was also probably going to be forking out a lot of dough towards the upcoming vet bills. The black horse that the man was leading didn't look good. He looked about ready to fall over, KurukVile thought.

There was a fine, foamy lather all around the black horse's mouth and muzzle; the long neck, from which the well profiled head sat on, was slick with sweat; while the stomach and legs were just plain wet. The muscles, that were on the neck, and that were on the horse's withers and hindquarters, were trembling; the horse was walking with a lowered head and neck and he was breathing very heavily. Cheshire and his horse stopped after their climb to the hill's top was over; Cheshire stripped his horse of his tack quickly. After his horse stood before him, naked of everything but his skin, Cheshire grabbed the long canister of water, that was hanging from the saddle. He fumbled the cap off the canister then threw the contents that were in it forward; his horse nickered then sidestepped to the right after the water hit him. When the horse started to lap the water that dripped from his body to the ground, Cheshire took a deep breath. Cheshire gave his horse a pat on the back then turned to look at the two MoHunds, that were still on the hill's crest. One of the MoHunds, the bigger of the two, was still on his side while the one that KurukVile kicked had managed to get to his feet. The smaller of the canines was walking over to TazirVile; for some reason, the animal wasn't using his back right leg. The animal collapsed to his side after reaching his owner.

"Looks like we're all beat here, Tazzy." Cheshire said, his voice was heavy with defeat. "Your hunters look about ready to keel over."

"Like the horses, they deserve a good rest." TazirVile said. He dropped to one of his knees then started to run his hands over the MoHund that was nearest him. When the animal yelped, then tried to get up after he ran his hand down the length of his spine, TazirVile shook his head. TazirVile gave the animal a light pat on the head then stood up.

"Bad?" Cheshire asked. The MoHund was giving his owner a forlorn look.

"Something's up with his back," TazirVile replied as he went over to his saddle. "Whatever's going on with his back is also causing him to not use his back right leg."

KurukVile shook his head then turned around; his brother had just taken a long knife out from one of the saddle packs. KurukVile didn't need to be told what was about to happen. He had done what his brother was about to do several times—he mostly did it when one of his hunting canines received an injury that was either life-threatening or that would hinder them from doing as they were trained to do but he had also done it when they were sick and a vet was too far away to come look at them or put them out of their misery. He felt no remorse when the yelp was heard and he felt no guilt when Cheshire asked what Tazir was going to do with the canine's body after the animal's pains were put to a permanent end. KurukVile looked at the horse that was beside Rhoosod; the black horse was a stallion and, except for his coat color and height, and a few other things that one who didn't know much about horses wouldn't notice, he looked very similar to Rhoosod. Rhoosod stood 16.3 hands high while the black stallion with the white blaze stood 15.2 hands high; both of the stallions had deep shoulders and fine chests and thick, "cresty" necks. Their hindquarters were deep and well-formed. Rhoosod had a longer neck than the black stallion and his ears were smaller and his head was more defined and wedge-shaped but that was really all the difference there was between the two stallions.

"Your horse looks very similar to my brother's," KurukVile said after a minute of silence settled over the hill.

"They should—they're related." Cheshire replied. He had automatically known that KurukVile was speaking to him. "Two steps back; they have the same grandsire."

"What's his parentage?" KurukVile asked. Although he was more interested in the bigger, draftier, and more powerful horse breeds, he was a horseman who liked conversing about any of the known horse breeds in the Universe.

"His sire is Breklor," Cheshire answered. KurukVile turned around. He gave Cheshire a look before turning his gaze towards TazirVile, who was slipping his long knife back into the pack that was behind his saddle. "Out of Diviak."

"He your horse or my brother's?" KurukVile asked. He knew that Breklor was one of his half-brother's stallions but he didn't know who the mare was.

"Mine," Cheshire replied quickly.

"He's half-Moasian, Kuruk." TazirVile said. "His dam is one of Cheshire's Zetasian-bred mares."

Before he could voice his opinion on the black stallion's parentage, and on the fact that he was a half-breed, a call was cast from behind them.

His father had taught him much like he had Tazir about horses—they were best to be paired within the same breed and half-breed horses are inferior to pure breeds in many ways and should be avoided at all costs, was what the man said during his early-done lessons on horsemanship. He had never allowed for one of his Gamma Draft's to be bred to any other outside horse or to a horse that wasn't of the Gamma Draft breed and he had figured that Tazir was the same with his horses. Sadly, it looked like Tazir hadn't taken in their father's teachings on horse breeding. KurukVile knew how close his younger, half-brother was to Cheshire Ubalki and he knew how close Cheshire Ubalki was to his younger, half-brother and sister—Tazir and Qeeta both called Cheshire Stepper from time to time and Qeeta lived under Cheshire Ubalki and his wife's roof—but he, up to that moment in time, hadn't had a clue as to how far that closeness went.

KurukVile turned around; he saw that the sorrel mare, that his younger, half-sister was astride, was slowly making her way onto the hill's crest. Qeeta clucked to the mare, then said a few words to her, then the mare joined the three stallions and the one living MoHund that were on the hill. Cheshire went to Qeeta's aid quickly; he helped her down from the mare then he undid the cinch that was around the mare's girth. Qeeta threw the saddle from the mare's back then stepped back. She let her stepfather take over the mare's care.

"What happened to that animal?" QeetaVile asked after seeing the dead MoHund.

"Not sure how he got his injury but I had to put him down," TazirVile replied. "Something was wrong with his back—he was in a lot of pain."

"Something that would probably get worse during the wait for a veterinarian to come to check on him?" QeetaVile speculated aloud.

"Yes," TazirVile replied.

"What's wrong with the other animal?" QeetaVile asked. The still-living MoHund was still on his side.

"He's fine, just resting." TazirVile replied. When he went to check on the animal that his sister had just asked about, he had noticed that his touch hadn't sparked any pains in him. He guessed that the animal was fine.

"What of the o—"

The snort, followed by a protesting whinny, made QeetaVile, TazirVile, KurukVile, and Cheshire look to the side. At first, they didn't see anything, then the head of the mare, that was pulling the wagon that Eldass Zultoa and his oldest son, Zshon, were riding in, bobbed into view. The mare, KurukVile thought, was nothing in comparison to the other horses that were on the hill. She was small, standing at only 12 hands high, and, to him, her coat wasn't pretty or pleasant to look at. The small mare had a blue dun coat, that had a dark stripe running down its back; she had primitive stripes on her legs. She had no markings on her other than them stripes. She had a short, stocky build, a short neck, and a small head from which two, tiny ears sat on. The mare that was pulling the wagon wasn't one of his brother's horses; up to a few days ago, she was a wild roaming pony mare that had probably lived all her life in the wilderness. His brother had obviously had this trip all planned out three days ago when he went to catch one of the wild ponies. After catching the mare, he spent all of a day training her to work a harness. The mare was only half-tame—all during the trip, she had tried to get away from her handlers. KurukVile had seen Eldass use his harness whip more than once on the mare to keep her under control. Zshon Zultoa had less involvement with the trip—he had done nothing more than sit in the wagon that he and his father were in.

The mare that QeetaVile had rode on during the entire trip was a marvelously beautiful animal in comparison to the semi-wild mare, KurukVile thought. Tall, leggy, and with a nice profile that had speed stamped all over it. The mare that Cheshire Ubalki was standing beside had a nice, bright, sorrel coat that was just one shade away from being palomino. The mare's mane was long and flaxen; her tail was like Rhoosod's and the black stallions—it was so long that it touched the ground. She also had perfectly rounded hooves. The mare's refined, wedge-shaped head had a broad forehead, large eyes, large nostrils, and a small muzzle on it; her neck was arched. She had a level croup. The sorrel mare was obviously very proud of her heritage because, even while being utterly exhausted, she was carrying her tail high. Despite breathing heavily, and being covered in sweat, the mare's eyes were bright. She was standing proudly. The last thing that KurukVile took in about the mare was her size—she was a nice 15.1 hands high.

"She protests even while being dog-tired, sir." Eldass Zultoa said to his employer after he pulled the semi-wild pony mare to a stop.

"You expect anything less from a mare that hasn't been properly or fully trained?" KurukVile asked before TazirVile could speak. "Tazir, why in the Universe did you go out to snag such an animal anyways? She's slow, weedy, and—"

"She knows the terrain and, despite her wild upbringing, she's tough and well-boned." TazirVile replied quickly.

"You call _that_ well-boned?" KurukVile jabbed a finger at the semi-pony mare, that was now trying to rear. "Brother, what the—"

"She is by wild equine standards." TazirVile said.

"Any orders, sir?" Eldass asked.

"Just sit and try to regroup, and rest the horses." TazirVile replied.

"Weren't there three MoHunds leading us, Tazzy?" QeetaVile asked. She had tried to get this question out earlier, but everyone was distracted by Eldass and Zshon's arrival. "I see only two; wasn't there a third animal leading us?"

Eldass and Zshon got to their feet while everyone else turned around; the sudden baying call, that they had heard, had come from the bottom of the hill. As he walked forward, TazirVile reached into his tuxedo jacket for the spyglass that was in its inside jacket pocket; there was a glint of gold and silver when he removed the piece from his jacket that attracted Zshon's attention.

The piece that was removed from his employer's inside jacket pocket was nearly, fully gold. The only thing that wasn't gold on the spyglass was the silver leaf design that went around the spyglass's middle. TazirVile trained the spyglass on the MoHund that was noted as missing; as he reached back into his jacket for the gold whistle that he used to control his hunting canines with, he watched as the rouge MoHund loped slowly towards the brightly glowing lights that were some miles from him, his two siblings, Cheshire, and Eldass and Zshon. He had just taken the whistle from his jacket when the MoHund charged towards the lights. While he could hear her loud baying calls he lost her for all of thirty seconds before being able to train his spyglass on her again. He allowed for the canine to reach a white board fence, that went around the large meadow, where the bright lights were, then he brought the whistle to his lips. He was mildly surprised when his hunting canine didn't respond to the whistle when he blew it the first time. The MoHund turned then started to make her way back after he blew the whistle again.

"Now what?" KurukVile demanded to know.

"Zshon..." TazirVile called loudly. Zshon looked at his employer.

"Yessir," Zshon, a green-skinned Goblin, who had yellow eyes and a rather large nose on a face that had large warts on its cheeks, chin, and forehead, said.

"Radio in; tell Abevo that he's to put the MoHunds, that I'm sending back to camp, in their kennels." TazirVile instructed. Before Zshon could fish his portable radio out from the holster that was on his belt, he said something else pertaining to his two, surviving hunting animals. "Make sure to tell him to give the animals a small amount of food and water; let them sleep and rest up before giving them a decent meal and a full bowl of water."

"Yessir," Zshon said.

"We done here, Tazzy?" QeetaVile asked as Zshon started relaying his employer's message to Abevo Speelin. "We heading back to camp now?"

"If you wish to head back do so." TazirVile said. "I'm sending Rhoosod back to camp as well so... Zshon!"

"Sir?" Zshon said. He had just gotten through relaying his employer's message about the MoHunds to Abevo; his radio was still in his hand.

"Make sure to tell whoever it is that's down near the ship's stalls to tend Rhoosod, Mulrytar, and Lillaaz well. Small amount of food and water, gentle grooming, then let the horses rest in their stalls." TazirVile said. When Zshon did nothing, TazirVile turned to look at him. "Did my words fall on deaf ears, Mr. Zultoa?"

"No sir," Zshon said. He started to relay what he was just told to the co-worker that was closest to his employer's ship's stalls quickly.

"Tazir, what the hell are you doing?" KurukVile asked.

"Apparently, that one animal has picked up something that leads to them lights. I'm heading there to check it out on foot." TazirVile said. KurukVile sighed loudly; TazirVile was quick to address that sigh. "Who said that I was to have company on this trek? If anyone wishes to follow then do so, you're all free to go if you want. It's been a hard run, we're all tired."

Without putting much thought into it, Cheshire walked forward. He asked if he could see his stepson's spyglass then, after he was given it, he held it to his eye.

As was his usual, he took in the landscape that was around the lights before he took in what the female MoHund was running towards. To the west of the lights, there was a classical architecture that had stone columns or pillars running along its front; the wing attachments had stone columns or pillars running along the front of them too. There was a stone statue in front of the building; from what he could make out, the statue had a Lion and a woman, who's arm was held up, on it. A set of stone steps led up to the statue. There looked to be some sort of square to the east of the lights; he could barely see the buildings that were in the square because of the lights. The last thing that he was able to make out was a winding road went around the area where the lights were. Cheshire trained his attention on the area where the lights were next; he took the spyglass down, adjusted it just a tiny bit so he could see the area a little better, then looked through it again.

At first, Cheshire thought he was looking at a vibrant spaceship that the humans had gone and built. The humans weren't called a hostile species for nothing; besides their ability to survive through some of the most chaotic of natural disasters and plagues, they seemed to have a very strange habit of shooting at unknown crafts that entered their atmosphere—they had an even stranger habit of collecting either the debris or the dead or living beings that were in or around the crafts that they shot down. The humans had a rather nice reputation with the Zetakin people; in total, over a hundred Zeta Reticuli ships were reported as missing after they entered Earth's atmosphere. All of the people that were on them ships went missing and whatever cargo that was on the downed ships was never recovered or seen again. It took all of two minutes for Cheshire to figure out that what he was seeing was no human-made spacecraft; when he saw the brightly lit up carnival rides, he struggled to keep from laughing. He was still struggling to not laugh when he gave the spyglass back to TazirVile, who was giving him a serious looking-over.

"Your hunters have led us to a fair, Tazir." Cheshire said after he had control of himself. "A big one, by the looks of it."

"A fair!" QeetaVile Surfeit exclaimed. She walked forward; she didn't ask for the spyglass when she reached her older brother's side—she just grabbed the thing from his hand then looked through it.

"What a more perfect spot for them to go to." TazirVile said. He turned then jabbed his hand in the direction of the deceased and the still-living male MoHund's. The two animals disappeared from the hill a second later; TazirVile jabbed his hand in Rhoosod's, Mulrytar's, Lillaaz's, and the semi-wild pony mare's direction next and, like with the two MoHund's, the three horses and the semi-wild pony mare disappeared a second later. TazirVile turned to look at his older, half-brother after sending the three horses, the semi-wild pony mare, and the two MoHund's back to his camp. "I'll let you deal with Sehedor."

"I take it that you're going down to where them lights are for a few hours of useless searching." when TazirVile nodded his head, KurukVile sighed deeply then shook his head. KurukVile turned to look at QeetaVile; Cheshire was taking the can of edible snuff out from the pocket that was on his brown leather vest. KurukVile had a sinking feeling that his younger, half-sister was going to remain with their brother. The two Goblins seemed to be in a half-daze. "I suppose that all of you are going to follow Tazir to the funny-farm?"

"To fah fur," Cheshire said. He moved the wad of edible snuff around in his mouth for a second then repeated what he had just said. "Excuse me. To the fair, where else?"

"We've stuck by him this far, why shouldn't we follow him this one last time?" QeetaVile asked.

As he walked over to where his employer stood, he couldn't help but steal a glance at the muscle-bound man that was his employer's older, half-brother. KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit, or Kuruk, as he was most commonly called by his family and by the people that were close to him, looked nothing like TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit or, for the matter, QeetaVile Tintissi Surfeit. KurukVile Surfeit, who had done nothing but complain during the entire trip, stood a tall and menacing six foot, four inches; his body wasn't only bi-colored, it was big and strong and sturdy!

While the left side of the man's head and body was red, the other side was white; the stress winkles, that were on his head, were darker than the sides of the head that they were on—dingy white for the right side and dark red for the left. KurukVile's elongated ears went only half the length of his shoulders; the red, Tiger-like stripes, that were on them, contrasted rather well with the background color, which was gold. His fingernails were long and sharp; they were also purple. The eyes, that were in the man's face, were a fiery red color; they had black pupils in their centers. The man had a small nose that pointed down sharply.

KurukVile Surfeit was what one would call a mountain of muscle—his body was heavily stacked with ample amounts of muscle; the veins, that crossed over the muscle that was on his arms, stuck out prominently. The man was wearing a sleeveless, black and gold leather tunic that had a black fur belt around its waist. He had a pair of black pants on underneath the tunic; there was a pair of distressed, black boots on his feet. Zshon had heard plenty of stories over the last twenty-two days on how the man was with his employees; KurukVile had come very close to having to move his camp after landing his ship on the 9th of October. When the snow melted, all of the water sources had overflown their banks; the large lake, that the humans in their part of Germany called the Bärensee, or the Bear Lake, had been one of them water sources, along with an unnamed brook that was near the lake. The man had staked a stern claim to the area that he landed his ship on. He hadn't budged his ship or his camp; he actually gave his staff the order to "drain" the area soon after the outer edges of the swollen lake started creeping closer to his ship. Unlike Cheshire Ubalki and QeetaVile, who hadn't been asked to come along on the trip, KurukVile was asked to come along. While KurukVile Surfeit had the same father as TazirVile and QeetaVile Surfeit, his mother was Cyla Dybla—the woman that DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit was married to before he met and then married Ashaklar Zoopray, the mother of TazirVile and QeetaVile Surfeit and the wife of Cheshire Ubalki. The man was one hundred and fifty seven thousand, nine hundred, and twenty-three years old; he was forty-six hundred years older than his younger, half-brother.

"Falling in love with my spyglass?" QeetaVile jumped; she had been so engrossed in looking through the spyglass that she had forgotten all about the others. Her brother was standing on her right nearly a minute ago; while he was still there, he was now turned towards her. His right arm was held at a ninety-degree angle; the palm of his hand was facing the sky.

"Sorry," QeetaVile said. She gave her brother his spyglass then turned her attention back to the lights.

"Meant to get you one of these last year," TazirVile said as he put his spyglass away. "Didn't know what color you was interested in, or how long a spyglass you wanted."

QeetaVile Tintissi Surfeit, or Qeeta, as her family and the people that were close to her called her, didn't laugh at the joke. Despite the fact that she looked very feminine, she was a very tough woman who had a very serious mind. It was very rare for her to join in or crack off a joke when something serious was going on. Qeeta was TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit's younger sister; she was born five hundred years after he was. She was his only full-blooded sibling. She stood five foot, eight inches and she had a very feminine body build. Her petite, pencil-thin body had two, small breasts on it that were perfectly round. She looked like a typical Zetakin, which was funny because, like her older brother, she was only half-Zetakin. Her upside down, teardrop-shaped head had two, circular-shaped eyes in it that were a shiny silver color. There were two holes where a nose would be under her eyes and, under her nose-holes, was an O-shaped mouth. She had teal-colored skin and, like her older brother, she had suction cups on the tips of each of her fingers. Unlike her older brother, she had long, jet-black hair that, at the moment, was up in a braided half-bun.

Unlike her older brother, who was married twice but divorced once, and who had five biological children and an adopted child, Qeeta had never settled down. She was unmarried, she had no children, and she lived with her and her brother's mother and stepfather and their children on Zeta Ren—a planet that was in the Zeta Reticuli system. She was wearing a long sleeve, button down, purple blouse that had a ruffled collar-line; there was a pair of black trouser slacks on underneath the purple blouse. The pair of ankle-high boots that were on her feet looked well-worn. Qeeta, Zshon had noticed rather quickly, before they started following the MoHunds, after they entered the protected cities, towns, and communities that had shields over them, was wearing no makeup. She had no jewelry on her.

"Well, I suppose if the boys were tracked there then we should move on and scout the area out." TazirVile said. He jabbed his hand in the direction of the female MoHund a second later. The female MoHund, who had just reached the base of the hill, disappeared after he did that. TazirVile rolled his shoulders then started the walk down the side of the hill; Eldass and Zshon followed a step behind him while QeetaVile and Cheshire followed behind them. KurukVile stood at the top of the hill for nearly two minutes; he looked at the saddles, that were still on the hill, then he looked at his stallion. It was another minute and a half before he mouthed the spell that would send his stallion and the saddles back to camp. While he felt foolish for following the others to the brightly lit-up area, that was seven and a half miles away, he decided that he should stick around and see the search to its conclusion. He was the last one to descend the hill.

If not for the bands, that were in the tents, that were strictly reserved for music, the lone, female MoHund would of been heard. There were over ten tents in the area where the female MoHund was heading towards and their stages were all occupied by some band that was making a lot of noise. There was a tent that was specifically reserved for polka bands, there were two tents that were reserved for acoustic bands, and there were two tents that were reserved at the last minute for pop bands. Curiously, the other tents were reserved for metal or rock 'n roll bands—while Bile and Guyunis wanted to visit them, they were drawn to the polka band tent first. When the female MoHund charged towards the funfair, they went into the tent; they decided to leave it right when the MoHund reached the outer fence that surrounded the Oktoberfest fairgrounds.

Bile and Guyunis had only heard the low notes of the baying of the MoHund; instead of growing concerned over where them calls were coming from, they thought that they were coming from the hidden speakers, that were behind the stage areas, that were in one of the tents that were reserved for the rock 'n roll and metal bands. Bile and Guyunis were stepping out from the tent that they went into when TazirVile was sending the female MoHund back to his camp.

After leaving the Polka band tent, Bile turned then went to one of the tents where a metal band was playing in. Guyunis followed him. After going into the tent, then looking around, he went to one of the conveniently placed tables. He was fast in sitting in the wooden chair, that was under the table, and he was fast in shaking his head; he grabbed the shirt, that was wrapped around his belt, after shaking his head. He used his shirt to wipe the sweat and beer that was on his chest and stomach before leaning back; Guyunis sat in the chair that was across from him a second later.

"You're going-k to get sick, aren't you?" Guyunis asked. Bile, all of a sudden, looked like he was struggling to both stay awake and to keep from throwing up.

"I don't know what it is that wants to come up, Bro." Bile replied a few seconds later. "The W-Weisswurst or the potato skins."

"Wha-k-t about the beer?" Guyunis asked. Bile shook his head. "You sure? You drank like—"

"Three, I—hic—know." Bile said.

"Wan-k-t me to contact mum?" Guyunis asked. Bile shook his head again. "You sure? You look bad."

"I'll be fine, gimme a minute. I'm probably not the only one that feels a bit sick here." Bile replied.

It was just he and Bile now; Lhaklar decided to go off on his own after consuming his third beer. Lhaklar had put in a claim of wanting to find a female companion; they had wished him luck in finding one. After Lhaklar went off, he decided to do a little walking around on his own. He didn't just wander around, doing nothing but popping into certain tents or just standing around—while he did pay four tents a visit, and check out the items that were being sold or the activities that were being done in them, he also played some games. All while wandering the area, he paid special attention to the drunken antics of the humans that were around him.

In all, he played three of the fair's games and won two, Halloween-themed prizes. The i8 BMW was probably getting a bit full with all of what he and Bile and Lhaklar were spell-sending to it. A black dragon stuffed toy, that had red fangs and green, glow-in-the-dark eyes, and a stuffed skull toy had joined the souvenir beer steins that he and his bruders had sent to the vehicle earlier. He had just won the stuffed skull toy, and had just come across Lhaklar, and had just noticed that it was heading on fifteen minutes since he and Bile went their separate ways, when his communicator went off—it was his mum calling; she was just checking on him, and seeing if he was okay and if he was behaving.

Lhaklar, when he came upon him, was in the same area that Annelise, Thede, and Rainmund Leinart were in. Lhaklar was throwing some tennis balls at a pyramid of empty bottles—with there being a woman nearby, he had a feeling that he was trying to win a prize for her. Lhaklar had just won a rather large stuffed cat toy when his communicator went off.

Although there was no verbal communication between he and Lhaklar, he had only to look at his bruder's face to know that he wasn't welcome in the area—after his communicator went off, and Lhaklar heard his voice, he turned then gave him a rather steely look. He took the hint. He was submissive—he walked off, and he let him have the girl.

Almost immediately after he and his mother said their goodbyes and went back to enjoying the fair, he came upon a game booth that was offering live, baby turtles as one of its prizes—he was quick in fishing his communicator out from his pants pocket after seeing it. Hazaar, after hearing about the booth, had sounded both reluctant and interested in playing it. After going quiet to give his playing the booth a thinking-over, his younger bruder said that he was going to contact their mum about the booth that he had told him about. Hazaar claimed that he didn't want to bring any game-won baby turtles home without their mum's permission.

After talking to Hazaar, he set himself down to finding Bile, who he walked into five minutes later. Bile was walking away from a carnival ride—apparently, he only went to it to use it as a ruse after hearing their mum buzz him. The decision to go over to the tents, where the bands were playing in, was made after he met-up with his older bruder. Bile claimed that, after he got away from the section of the fair that was set-up for the alcoholics, he ate a Weisswurst—a traditional Bavarian sausage, that was made from minced veal and pork back bacon—and a thing of potato skins.

"Think Lhaklar found a girlie," Guyunis said. Bile did nothing more than look at his hands. "I found him winning-k a toy for a girlie at the game sec-k-tion here."

"Let me guess—tall and blonde, with blue or green eyes?" Bile asked in a near mutter.

"Almos-k-t. She was abou-k-t medium-height." Guyunis answered.

"Surprised, he's usually one for the tall women. He prefers blonde-haired women that have either blue or green eyes; he also likes them to be tall." Bile said. "I mostly prefer the dark-haired women that have petite bodies and long hair, but I like the blondes as well. Since ma has red hair, I tend to stay away from women who have red hair. I have no problems with a woman being tall or short."

"I'm surprised that you haven't gone out to find a girlie yet." Guyunis said. "Lhaklar pret-k-ty much told me to g-k-et when he saw me."

"I'll probably be telling you to get in ten or fifteen minutes." Bile said. He looked at Guyunis then smiled slightly. "I'd hate to see the humans that walk past our cars, bro. I took the spare to ma's car before we left home. The i8 won't be the only car doing the bounce around routine tonight."

The band, that was playing on the stage, droned out their laughter. The people, that were around them, didn't even notice that they were laughing, nor did they hear the conversation that followed that laughter. Bile, who had been wanting to ask his adoptive brother a rather serious question ever since they were told by their mother to go off and have some fun on their own at the fair, asked his brother if what he told him and Lhaklar in the car on the way to the fair was really true or if he just made up a tall-tale to fit in with them.

Normal conversation started after Lhaklar backed the i8 BMW out of the driveway; they had talked about music, and about how great it was to finally get out of the house, and about how crazy the weather was, and about how strange it was that nothing of high interest was going on in the camp that their father and uncle had set up in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve, then, an hour and a half after they left home, the conversation changed to what they were hoping to do. Lhaklar had started the conversation smoothly by simply saying how "deprived" he was and about how he hadn't "had any" in so long; he had picked up on that by simply saying that he felt the same way and that he was hoping to end the "drought" after they got to the event that they were heading to. Guyunis, who was in the back seat of the car, had remained silent during that exchange of coded words and he had also remained quiet through the non-coded exhange of words. After their mother made the decision to teleport to the city of Augsburg, Guyunis surprised them by telling them a tale of what happened between him and his former adopted father's older sister.

Gisella Meyer, Guyunis claimed, had started to become a problem child at a right early age. It started out as plain party-attending then, in like fashion, it turned to drugs and sex—she was a little over fourteen when she started doing all of this. It was no surprise to either Guyunis or to Gisella's parents that she caught pregnant the following year. At the age of seventeen, she gained a jail record, and had two kids that she had lost the custody of. Monika Graf and her husband, Mathis Meyer Sr., had done all they could to steer her in the right direction but their attempts had mostly been feeble ones. They feared for Gisella as much as they were afraid of her and, for some strange reason, they had also feared Gisella more than he.

One night, when Gisella Meyer was seventeen years old, she came home drunker than a skunk and high on some drug that she took at the party that she went to. She had wandered up to the attic, where Guyunis was forced to reside in during his "off-duty" hours, then, after she reached the attic, she started to swoon over him.

Guyunis claimed that he told her to go away the first time that she did that; while doing so, she returned ten minutes later for another attempt, which he also thwarted. She stayed away after being told to for the second time. The second time that Gisella went up to the attic after being out on a drinking and drug-using binge with her friends, she was more successful in getting Guyunis to participate in the activity that she wanted to do. Guyunis claimed that it was all oral for a few weeks then it transgressed into the full-blown deal. Gisella had always swore him to secrecy and she had always threatened him with violence if he ever told anyone of their activities the day after they did their deeds. Mathis Meyer Jr. didn't know about the affair that was going on with them and neither had their parents; Lenora Falkenrath, Mathis Meyer Jr.'s wife, was told about it one day after a cancer-ridden Gisella confided the secret to her, though. Guyunis was Monika Graf and Mathis Meyer Sr.'s adopted son and abused and unpaid servant for all of forty-three years; he had lost his virginity to his drunk and drugged adoptive sister at the age of one thousand, eight hundred, and fifty-five years. Bile found it funny that his adoptive brother hadn't said anything on this before. Up to the drive to the Oktoberfest funfair, he had thought that his younger brother was a mid-teenage virgin that was just hyped up on hormones.

"It happened," Guyunis said after Bile asked him if what he told him and Lhaklar in the i8 BMW was true or not. He took the pack of HB cigarettes from the only pocket that was on the back of his black jeans after answering the question; he took a cigarette out from the pack then he stuck it in his mouth. He lit the cigarette by making a tiny flame appear on the tip of his left index finger. He started smoking it afterwards.

"Every word of what you told me and Lhaklar in the car is true?" Bile eyed the cigarette pack hungrily; while he had a gram of pot on him, he didn't want to smoke it in front of everyone.

"Everything-k that I said happened," Guyunis said. He slid the cigarette pack along the surface of the table. It went from his left hand to his right then back to his left hand in a mockish sort of way.

"I'll be damned," Bile said. He was now trying to not look at the traveling cigarette pack. "I thought it was only Lhaklar that I had to compete with with the ladies. Now I'm hearing that I also have you to compete with."

"I haven't done anything-k in years, Bile." Guyunis said. "It's been like... forty-six years since I've had anything-k to do with a girlie."

"Remind me to get you another beer before we leave here." Bile said. "What do you prefer in a lady? Do you like the dark-haired or the light-haired or—"

"Don-k-t really have a preference." Guyunis slid the cigarette pack across the table. He had known the entire time that Bile was eyeing the pack; he decided to stop teasing him by sliding the pack back and forth.

"Oh now, come on. Serious now," Bile took a cigarette out from the pack; he lit it by shooting a tiny energy ball at its end. He took a deep drag from it. "What type of lady are you most interested in? We're brothers here, we can speak freely among ourselves."

"Well... I do like girlies that have medium-tans and golden-blonde hair." Guyunis answered after a few seconds of silence. "I also like ash-brown haired girlies."

"Tall or short?"

"Don't really matter,"

"And the eyes, what color eye captures your attention the most?" Bile asked. His nausea had ebbed away; he felt fully well again.

"Amber, I guess." Guyunis replied. He then added, "And gray."

"You said while we were on the way here that you was going to do a little lady-searching; you still going to do that, or was you just saying that to join in with the conversation that Lhaklar and I were having?" Bile asked.

"What is this, a hundred question hour or something-k?" Guyunis exclaimed. He sat back in the chair heavily. "I might. I might and I might no-k-t."

"Our car will definitely not have that new car smell in it after tonight." Bile said. He then started to laugh.

Bile and Guyunis decided to go their separate ways when the tent's band stopped playing and then switched places with another. Bile wished Guyunis well in his search for his "girlie" and Guyunis told Bile to not cause but so much damage to the inside of their mother's car with the "lady" that he decided to hook up with. Guyunis went back to the area where the game booths and stands were in while Bile went over to the section where most of the food tents were. If Bile would of gone in that direction only ten minutes before, he would of been noticed by Zshon Zultoa, who, after entering the fairgrounds, had decided to do a search in that area for his employer's sons.

Guyunis, the second he reached the game section of the fair, started making passes towards some of the women who had the knot on the apron, that was on the skirt part of their dirndl dress's, tied on the left side. Two of the woman that he made passes towards paid him no mind; he rolled his eyes then walked over to a woman, who had light blonde hair and who was wearing a purple-colored dirndl dress, that had a tight-fitting, white blouse under its bodice. He took note of the fact that the apron's knot was tied on the left side, then he looked at the length of her legs. The woman was standing in front of one of them chuck-it games so he figured that she was either waiting in line for the game or was watching someone who was throwing the tennis balls at the bottles. Guyunis swallowed nervously then went over to the woman; a quick glance told him that she had maybe had one or two drinks.

"Interested in something-k, or are you just standing-k here looking-k pretty?" he asked in perfect German.

"Wondering if I should play or not. I'm a terrible shot, I'm afraid." the woman replied.

"Would you like for a strong male arm to win you a prize or two?" he asked. The woman turned to look at him.

"You're too kind." the woman replied after giving him a good sizing up. "The purple and red teddy bear, that has a plastic knife attached to its hand—if you should win anything, I'd prefer that."

Although this was his first time in really being at such an event, Guyunis knew what to do after he was given a tennis ball. As he eyed his target, which was nothing more than a pyramid of six metal bottles, the muscles, that were in his left arm, grew tense. All of the bottles pretty much flew up and then scattered after he threw the ball at them. The game booth's proprietor shook his head then came forward to both pick up and then place the bottle pyramid back in place and to receive payment for Guyunis's throw. Guyunis paid the man one euro coin then asked for two more attempts to throw the tennis ball; the proprietor said okay then tossed him two more tennis balls. The bottle pyramid practically exploded when Guyunis threw one of the tennis balls that the proprietor had thrown him; while the proprietor was collecting the remnants of the metal bottles, Guyunis was gearing for another throw. He was mildly surprised when his third throw missed the target. The tennis ball had sailed right over the pyramid target. Guyunis gave the proprietor two euro coins then selected the teddy bear that the woman had said she wanted; he then asked for the mother and cub stuffed toy. The proprietor gave Guyunis the two prizes; after wishing Guyunis a good night he sat in his folding chair. Guyunis returned to the woman; he gave her the prizes that he won for her then stood quietly in front of her.

"I'm stunned almost to silence," the woman said after saying nothing for nearly a minute and a half. "Name's Ottilie; everyone mostly calls me Ottie, though."

"Name's Guyunis," Guyunis said.

"You've got one hell of an arm on you," Ottilie said. She ran her hand up Guyunis's left arm slowly. "You look pretty strong."

"I am,"

"You lift weights or something?"

"Yes, a-k-t home or out in the woods." Guyunis replied. While he was trying to speak slowly, his vocal crack was still clearly audible. He was embarrassed by how his voice still cracked; Hazaar and Lazeer were younger than he but their voices didn't crack any. He had yet to garner the courage to ask his mother why his younger brothers' voices didn't crack like his.

"Whatever you're doing you need to keep up. How old are you? I'm in my early twenties." Ottilie asked.

"Nineteen," Guyunis lied.

"You look a lot older than nineteen; you're one of Angel Irene's kids, aren't you?"

"Yes. She's my mum." Guyunis answered. He fought the urge to look at his feet; he knew that Ottilie had caught him in a lie. He decided to be a little more truthful after Ottilie started looking him over again. "I'm actually one thousand, nine hundred, and one years old."

Hazaar, who was standing in the shadows, had his mouth held half agape—he couldn't believe what he was seeing, and he was sure that his brothers would all say that he was lying if he said anything of what he was seeing to them. Guyunis was with a woman who was wearing a purple-colored dirndl and who had light blonde hair; they were talking. Guyunis was showing no nervousness towards the woman and the whole of Guyunis's head was out and in the open. Guyunis's blue hoodie was down; his long, black hair was loose, and was hanging past his shoulders... or, except for the strand that the light blonde-haired woman was holding. Hazaar couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy roll over him when he saw that the woman was handling his adoptive brother's hair—while he was touchy with his rattail, he did like the feeling of having a pair of feminine fingers being run through his hair. Guyunis and the light blonde-haired woman exchanged a few words before moving off; Hazaar followed them with his eyes for only a few seconds before looking away. He barked out a small laugh after seeing where they were headed before stepping out from the shadows; he resumed his search for the booth that Guyunis told him about twenty minutes ago.

Lazeer and he had gone their separate ways about fifteen minutes ago; as far as he knew, Lazeer was picking a few things out for their mother and brothers. He, after they split off from one another, decided to continue on with enjoying the carnival rides. He had just gotten off The Hurricane when his communicator went off; his initial thought was that it was either his mother checking up on him about Lazeer or, quite possibly, Bile or Lhaklar radioing in to tell him, Guyunis, and Lazeer to not go wandering around the parking lot for the next hour to hour and a half. He was surprised when it was Guyunis's voice that came through his communicator; he was even more surprised when his adoptive brother told him about the game booth, where the live baby turtles were being given away as prizes.

He wasn't fully sure on when the game was invented, or when the idea for it came up, but he did know that the Goldfish game booth was an old tradition with fairs and carnivals. It seemed that they were played long before he was born; when he was a child, he had always seen one of them game booths in the fairs that he and his family went to. Along with seeing them at an early age, he, at an early age, had noted how shady they looked. He had read once in a library where the American and United Kingdom governments had tried to ban the Goldfish game booths; the game was absent from the fair and carnival circuits for all of five years before fair and carnival groups, organizers, and patrons joined up with the sole purpose of getting it back at the fairs and carnivals. There were a lot of meetings; a lot of people had refused to go to fairs and carnivals unless that one particular game was returned to the circuit; and there was also a lot of campaigning going on for the booths. After nearly six months, the American and United Kingdom governments decided to allow for the Goldfish game booths to return to the fairs and carnivals. There were a whole new set of rules put out for the booths and a special fee was initiated just for them. The newspaper article that he read had said that one of the new rules specified that, as long as the fish were small, and as long as the fish had proper housing, that included an air filtration system while in transit or on display at the game booth, it was legal for them to be given out as game-won prizes. A Goldfish game booth proprietor couldn't put his Goldfish in plastic bags; a set of care instructions had to be given to each person that won a Goldfish; and a week's worth of food was also required to be given out. Hazaar thought that those were all good rules; he was glad that they were thought up and then put into effect.

While he was surprised over the fact that there was a game booth at the event that he was at that was offering live, baby turtles as its prizes, and, while he wanted to rush out and find it, he was stopped by two very powerful things. The first thing that crossed his mind was the fact that, while the Goldfish game booth was legal, and while it was allowed to be set-up in fairs and carnivals, any other game booth that offered other animals as its prizes was not. People who put up and operated game booths that offered something other than a simple Goldfish as a prize were likely to either be fined, shut down, arrested, or have all three of them things happen at once; the people who won the illegal game booth's prizes were either asked or forcibly made to give over their illegal, game-won prizes. He didn't want to get in trouble; he didn't want anything confiscated from him that he won at the fair; and he also didn't want to run the risk of being thrown out of the fair because of some illegally given prize that he had in his possession. The second thing that crossed his mind was the fact that he didn't have his mother's permission to play the game. If he went off and won a baby turtle or two would his mother allow him to keep it or them or would she say that he had to get rid of it/them? His mother was above the law—or, at least to him and his brothers she was. They were to listen to whatever she said and they were to do as she said and they were also suppose to obey her; she was the Governmental body of their whole existence and of their household. If his momma gave out the order for them to leap off a bridge, they'd do it with no questions asked. They all loved her; their love for her had no definition. They gave her lots of respect. After the second thought crossed his mind, he stopped his search for the game booth. He decided to put in a little call to his mother about the booth and he decided to ask her for permission to play it.

"Mom," he said after taking a seat on a wooden bench, that was between two game booths. His communicator was in his hand a short second later. "You still at the fair, mom?"

"Hazie, I'm still here. Where else but here would I be?" his mother, he remembered, said a short twenty seconds later. "Is Lazeer alright? What's going on?"

"Lazeer's fine; he made like a banana and split about fifty minutes ago." he replied. "I don't know where he went; when he went off on his own, he looked and seemed fine. I'm near the game booths and stands."

"I have a feeling that you didn't just call me to have a simple chat," his mother said. He had felt himself shrinking in his clothes. His mother knew things; she had a sixth sense about things and she used that sixth sense to perfection. "What's your reason for calling me? You should be out and enjoying the fair, not using your communicator to bug your old ma crazy."

"Mom! You're not old!" he had come close to yelling. He cleared his throat twice after saying that then he went on with telling her about the game booth that Guyunis had told him about. "Guyunis told me about some game booth that's at the fair—baby turtles are being offered as the prizes. I was wondering if I could get your permission to play it and I was also wondering if it w—"

"Hold on, Hazie. Let me ask Mr. Leinart something real quick."

While he waited for his mother to give him permission to play the booth, he thought about his current pet turtles. The five turtles that he had back at home were doing well; while two of his Spiny Turtles were smaller than the third one they were eating and they were acting like they should. The two, Eastern Long Neck turtles were acting normally too; he was taking them, and the three Spiny turtles, outside once, maybe twice a day... if the weather was good, that was. While he was keeping an eye on the two, smaller Spiny Turtles he was confident that they were fine; they were eating and using the bathroom and they were also taking in their nutrients and their vitamins like they should. Before his mother gave him permission to play the booth, she asked him if he thought he could handle one or two more pet turtles to what he already had. He had responded by saying that he could, and that he would continue to take good care of all of his pets.

She gave him permission after Mr. Leinart asked if he could use her communicator for a few minutes; his mother had said that he could... as long as she was allowed to remain at his shoulder, that was. Mr. Leinart hadn't sounded very happy after he was taught the basics on how to use a communicator; he had said that the offering of anything over a plain fish as a game prize wasn't legal in his country and he also said that he frowned on the concept of live animals and fish prizes greatly. After Mr. Leinart said that he was going to "take his time" in getting to where all of the game booths and stands were, and after Mr. Leinart said that he should take advantage of how "the crowds" would "slow him up" in finding the booth, his mother gave him her permission to play the booth. Although he was a trifle bit confused over what Mr. Leinart had said he figured that the man was "taking his time" in finding the game because he wanted him to find and then win one—or two—of the turtles that was being given out. He started looking for the game booth right after his mother asked him if there was anything else that he wished to speak with her about.

"Trick is to find it first," Hazaar thought. He had looked for all of twenty minutes; he had yet to find or see any game booth that was offering live, baby turtles as its prizes. "Unless Mr. Leinart found it before me, the human that put it up took it down."

The question on what types of turtles were being given out as prizes was wondered all while he made his rounds of the area where the game booths, stands, and tents were. Was the booth's proprietor offering native, German turtles as the prizes or were the turtles exotic and non-native to Germany? Were the baby turtles healthy or was the proprietor giving out sick turtles as a way to make a quick buck? Like Mr. Leinart, he wasn't very happy over discovering that someone was offering baby animals as game prizes. He knew that, in the United States, the fish that were won in a fair died within a week's time and that was because either their new owner wasn't taking care of them or because the game's proprietor was neglectful towards their needs—even though them new rules were put in the books after the Goldfish game booths went from being banned to unbanned, not everyone was adhering to them. There were some people who managed to cheat the system. There were some game booth proprietors that gave out Goldfish that were sick.

Turtles were an exotic animal; they had special needs, so they shouldn't be offered as game prizes to people who didn't know what their care needs were. A turtle needed an appropriate environment to thrive in; a turtle needed vitamins and minerals and it also needed a good diet of vegetables and fruits and insects and it also needed a good light source. Since his room's two-shelf bookcase was full, he could well go out and either buy a new bookcase or a small table or find one or the other at the dump. He could save the €170 that was left of the money that he was given before he and his family shoved off for the event that they had been enjoying themselves at for nearly three hours now; he could buy an aquarium with that money and he could also buy a block of dirt substrate and a plant or two to spiff the cage up for one or two turtles. When his November allowance was given to him later on next month, he could use that to buy more things for that cage—more furnishing items that'd make the one or two turtles feel more at home and secure in their environment and a heat lamp and a UVB light. He had already planned on saving €20 of what he had on him for the five turtles that he already had; he was planning on using that money to buy them some food: some crickets and worms. He wouldn't have to worry about going out to buy any vegetables or fruits for his turtles—his mother would of already gone and done that, although her reason in buying them produces wasn't the same as his when it came to them types of food. He'd slip a carrot or a piece of celery from the fridge for his turtles. His mother didn't mind that he did that—she knew that he was only looking after his pets' dietary needs when he did that. If he found this booth before Mr. Leinart did, and if he won one or two of the turtles that were being offered as its prizes, he'd do the same thing.

Shooting Gallery  
Shoot the Moving Targets  
Hit The Orange Duck and Win a Fabulous Prize

When he saw the booth, he automatically thought about how shady it looked. The sign, that was before the booth, was hand-made and not in a good way—the letters looked to of been hastily drawn on and it looked as if a five-year old had colored them. The crayon colors were outside of the letter lines. Behind the hastily made sign was a kiddie pool; it sat in the center of the booth—it was full of blue-green water. While there were plenty of blue, green, yellow, and red rubber ducks floating about on the surface of the water there were only three or four orange ducks in the pool—they were behind the other rubber ducks; in the way back of the pool. There was a piece of cardboard in the back of the booth; a hand-painted lake, with a few badly drawn trees, and a family of two having a picnic, was on it. The kid who was currently playing the booth wasn't really having much luck in downing one of the rubber ducks that were in the pool; the kid, who was maybe eight or nine years old, was trying his best to sink one of the orange ducks that were in the pool's back. The ducks were constantly floating or bobbing out of the way so all he was catching was the water. After five failed tries, the kid made a disappointed sound. He put the pellet gun down, on the table, that had two other pellet guns resting on it, then walked off. Hazaar stood where he was. He looked at the game for a few minutes—it was what he was looking for, but he wasn't sure about playing it or not.

The booth's proprietor was a right slim man; his black hair was combed to the side and looked a bit too bright to him—it was almost like he had used oil on it, that was how bright it was. Even though the man took notice of him, he didn't make any gestures towards him.

Hazaar could see that there were three boxes beside the folding chair that the man was sitting on; one of the boxes looked empty while the other two had some turtles in them. He saw that one of the boxes had a few green, baby turtles in it while the other had about fifteen or so strange, yellow-shelled turtles in it. As Hazaar was trying to make up his mind on whether or not to play the game, a kid, who looked around fourteen or fifteen years old, walked over to give it a try. The kid got some instruction from the game's proprietor then picked one of the pellet guns up. He aimed and then fired four times before putting the gun down. The proprietor gave him a turtle shell, then a green-colored baby turtle, before going back to his folding chair. The teenager walked off with the prizes that he had won. Hazaar's flesh went a degree hotter at just that moment—the kid that had just finished playing the booth had shot the pellet gun only four times and, out of them four times, he had hit two targets: a blue-colored rubber duck and a green-colored rubber duck. Just from watching that teenager play the game, Hazaar got a rough idea of how the game was played. He figured that, if a willing participant fired at and then sunk a green-colored rubber duck, he got a green-colored baby turtle while, if a blue-colored rubber duck was hit, the prize was a turtle's shell. What happened if someone popped a yellow or a red-colored rubber duck and what happened after someone managed to snag one of the orange-colored rubber ducks? What was the prize if someone fired at one of the red or yellow or orange-colored rubber ducks? Hazaar walked over to the game booth at the same time that Stefan Leinart walked into the area and at the same time that his aunt, QeetaVile Surfeit, was walking around the corner of a game booth that was nearby.

"I was wondering if you was ever going to come over." the booth's proprietor said after Hazaar reached the booth. "Finally decided to pull the thumb out of your ass, or have you just decided to come over to ask a bunch of questions then hark all over my ass about the prizes that I'm offering to my gamers?"

"What's the prizes for this booth?" Hazaar asked.

"Ceramic turtle ornament if you hit a yellow duck. Stuffed turtle toy if you hit a red duck. A real turtle shell if you hit a blue duck. A baby green turtle if you hit a green duck and a baby yellow turtle if you manage to get one of the orange ducks that're in the back of the pool." the proprietor answered. "The first two tries are free; the rest cost a euro each."

"What kind of turtles are you offering as prizes?" Hazaar asked. Stefan Leinart had walked around the booth; he was standing behind the booth now, probably waiting for him to either play the game, and win a turtle or two, or walk away before coming forward to shut the booth down.

If the opportunity to get a turtle for free wasn't staring him in the face he would of gotten rude with the proprietor. He had asked a simple question—after asking what kind of turtles the man was giving out as his booth's prizes, he received the reply of _are you going to pick up one of the guns and then play the damn game or are you going to walk off like a sissy?_ Hazaar grabbed one of the pellet guns from the table then leaned down. He looked through the rear sight that was on the back of the gun then, when he had an orange rubber duck in the center of the rear sight, he pulled the trigger. The rubber duck that he had aimed for nearly flew out of the pool a second later. Hazaar got the gun ready to fire again right after the first orange rubber duck was removed from the pool; he was aiming the pellet gun as the proprietor was taking a plastic cup, that had a lid on it, that had some holes punched in it, out from a rather large dent that was in the side of the pool. Hazaar had just pulled the trigger of the gun again when his aunt took notice of him; she was using her communicator to tell his father what she was seeing when another orange rubber duck was nearly sent out of the pool. The proprietor of the game booth stared in silent shock, which turned to anger, as Hazaar fired the pellet gun three more times. Hazaar sent two of the yellow rubber ducks flying out of the pool then he sank a red rubber duck before placing the gun down.

"Damn, kid! Who the _hell_ taught you how to _use_ a gun?" the proprietor asked after Hazaar paid him three euros for the three extra firings.

"My mom." Hazaar replied. The proprietor started to mumble angrily. Hazaar fought hard to not laugh; he guessed that the guy didn't like having to give away two turtles, plus three other prizes, and he also guessed that he didn't like kids.

"Enjoy the rest of your fuckin' night." the proprietor, who's face was a flushed, red color, and who was breathing a little on the heavy side, said after scooping two of the strange, yellow-shelled turtles from the box that had that type of turtle in it. The man placed the two turtles in the cup then he placed the top on. He gave Hazaar the cup afterwards. The man practically threw a brown and yellow stuffed turtle toy, then two ceramic turtle ornaments, at him. Hazaar said nothing in return; he just turned then walked away from the booth with the prizes that he had won.


	21. Chapter 21

To say that the time spent walking to the araa, where the female MoHund went baying and loping towards, was easy for her was like saying that her legs hadn't fallen asleep during the near three hours that she had spent in the sidesaddle, that she put on the mare that her brother had let her borrow for the evening. Due to her legs being so asleep, she had very nearly had to grab a-hold of her stepfather's arm to keep from falling down after he helped her from Lillaaz—he probably would of let her to use him as a balance until she gained better control of her legs, come to think of it.

While the act of walking around, regaining the feeling and the physical use of her legs, was difficult the task of going down the hill, that she had just reached the top of, was even more so. She came close to falling, twice; she stumbled once; then she was forced to stop and then stand in place for all of two minutes before going on. Her older, half-brother had offered to help her down the rest of the hill when he reached her side and her stepfather had offered to carry her the distance between the hill and where the lights were; she had politely turned them two offers down. Tazir, Kuruk, and her stepfather hadn't just sat in their saddles all the while they were riding to their present location; along with using their legs to pump their horses along, after the MoHunds started to out-distance them, they had also stood up in their stirrup irons when they had to pull their horses to a sudden stop because of some obstacle that was in their path that they couldn't leap over safety. Because of her saddle—her nicely polished sidesaddle, that she purchased for herself some fifty years ago, after the old one broke down on her—she hadn't used her legs much. She had mostly used her hands and her voice to spur Lillaaz on. She had refused to use the riding crop, that was still stuffed in her ankle boot; she had known all along that Lillaaz was putting all that she had into keeping up with the other horses.

Although she had learned how to use a traditional English saddle, and although she had such a saddle in her small collection of riding equipment, she had decided, just for the hell of it, to grab the sidesaddle from its rack in the tack closet, that was near the stalls, that were in the lower decks of her brother's ship. She had received a lot of teasing after walking out of her brother's ship with that saddle in her arms; mostly, it was just her stepfather and Amadh that teased her about her choice in saddles but, earlier that evening, she had to contend with being teased by her stepfather _and_ her two older brothers. After seeing the saddle, they started saying how _numb_ or how _uncomfortable_ their seats were; they had also said how "pained" their groins were too. She had taken the teasing well.

Her father was the one responsible for teaching her how to ride a horse. The needs of a horse were taught first, then the proper way of riding a horse, who has a traditional English saddle on its back, was taught to her; after them lesson were done in being taught to her, he took her to the side then said that she was going to learn how to use a "woman's" saddle next. She remembered saying _okay daddy_ and she also remembered them going on with the rest of their day afterwards. The next two weeks consisted of her learning how to properly tack up and then ride a horse that had a sidesaddle on its back. Her father, despite being a rather serious man when it came time to teach and train his young in how to do certain things, had joked all throughout the lessons. While she was taught slowly, and while her father gave her plenty of time to adjust to the switch in saddles, and while he was understanding towards her for her mistakes, he was particularly hard with her brother. Her father was very mean and cruel and somewhat heartless with Tazir whenever he was on the back of a horse. She remembered seeing her father strike at Tazir; she had heard him yell, and use horrible language, and call her brother names, and she had also witnessed him beating Tazir for something that he didn't do right when he was riding the horse that he was thrown on. For most of her childhood, and for the early part of her teenage years, she had seen her older brother get beat and abused by their father; her mother, in comparison to her father, had always been nurturing and loving and understanding towards her and Tazir.

Whether the men in her group were sympathetic towards her, or were facing their own walking demons, she didn't know but, after going around half the distance between the hill and the area where the bright lights were, they teleported—she followed by example in doing the same as they. The first thing that they saw, after their teleportation was complete, was a white board fence—along with going all around the area, it was quite sturdy. They went over it the second they saw it; while everyone else had a smooth trip over the fence, Tazir had a small issue—the tail of his burgundy tuxedo jacket got caught on the board that he had just jumped over. He took care of that issue by throwing his arm back. It was mutually decided that they'd split up after they reached the fair that the fence surrounded.

Her stepfather had claimed the front of the fair, along with the parking lot, while her older, half-brother had said that he was just going to follow his feet. Zshon went off to check the section of the fair where some the food vending booths and stands were while his father went off to the far back of the fair; Tazir started searching through the tents where the music was playing. She had decided to head off to the center of the fair, where she thought there'd be less human traffic. She had also had a feeling that that part of the fair was where the game vendors were. She had only just started searching her picked area when she saw the backside of her brother's secondborn son—Hazaar.

At first glance, her young nephew looked fine then, when he moved, she noticed that he wasn't putting much of his weight on his left leg. She was just telling Tazir about her finding one of his sons when she saw that Hazaar was holding, and using, a gun. She must of blacked out for a few seconds because she couldn't remember what happened between her speaking to her brother about seeing Hazaar and her seeing Hazaar using a gun. She and Tazir had seen plenty of their father's guns in their youth. Their father had cleaned his guns sometimes in front of them and, sometimes, they had even walked in on him when he was in the room that all of his hunting equipment was stored in. Their father had let them watch him clean his guns whenever they came upon him when he had them out but he had made it known pretty loud and clear that, if either of them so much as placed a finger on one of his precious guns, they'd be getting a good, red, and raw bottom-end. Neither she nor her brother had touched one of their father's guns and, in fact, Tazir was a full-grown man when he picked up his first gun. He taught himself on how to clean and use a gun and he had also taught himself on how to wait patiently for some prey animal to wander into the area where he was waiting. He was very confident with a gun and his aim was really good.

After seeing that Hazaar had a gun in his hand, she came close to freezing in fear—her young nephew was no more than a mid-teenage boy and yet, here he was, playing with a gun that could well hurt him. Only when she heard her brother's yell come through her communicator had she become unfroze; she had missed seeing the human, that was manning the booth, giving Hazaar a cup that had some type of small animal in it and she had also missed the human throwing a stuffed toy and two ceramic ornaments at Hazaar. She gave Tazir her coordinates then she said that she was going to follow his son. He came back as saying that that was fine then, after he asked if Hazaar was limping or not and, after she replied by saying that he was, he said for her to not do anything that'd cause a panic in his son's location. She gave him her word that she'd stay in the shadows, and that she'd do nothing to harm his son, then she started to follow Hazaar from a safe distance.

"His limp's gotten worse," she thought as she followed Hazaar around a game booth, then down a long, concrete walkway. "It's been nearly a month since Olok and Ulok saw him and Lazeer in China and it's been nearly a month since he was heard complaining about his leg—whatever injury he received to his leg should of healed up by now."

He was six yards in front of her. He hadn't turned to see if he was being followed or not, which she was glad for—she really wasn't sticking to her promise of staying in the shadows. She was pretty much out and in the open. The area's present humans could see her, which meant that, if her young nephew turned around at any time—and for any reason—, he'd be able to see her too. She quickly studied her young nephew to see if he had any other ailments, or injuries, to him that she and her brother didn't know about. He didn't look any different body-wise but, since she was so far away from him, she couldn't really tell if his weight was good or if he had dropped weight or if he had any other injuries to him. Really, the only thing different about him was his hair. His deep purple rattail was mostly four and a half inches long except for one strand, which looked to be seven inches long. His rattail was, surprisingly, nicely combed and it looked healthy.

As she followed her young nephew, she was suddenly reminded of the short conversation that her older, half-brother had with her stepfather—it was strange that such a conversation would come up at that moment in time but it did and she was treated to remembering it in its entirety.

"Mr. Ubalki, if I may, what's the purpose of you chewing that junk?" KurukVile, she remembered, had asked after he caught up with the rest of the group. Her stepfather, Cheshire Keueitt Ubalki, moved the wad of chewing snuff around in his mouth before answering the question.

"Same reason why some people smoke, I suppose." he replied. There was a moment of silence between the two men before her stepfather said more. "I've had a hard run this evening; the chew is being used as nothing more than a stress dropper."

"You know that stuff makes the probability of mouth, throat, and jaw-related cancers grow, right?" KurukVile asked. He made a face a second later, when her stepfather turned his head to spit a green glob of the stuff that was in his mouth out.

"Yes, I'm aware of that." her stepfather replied.

She came close to needing to clamp her hand over her mouth—remembering that conversation had made her come close to laughing, which she didn't want to do right now. That conversation, along with the one that followed it, was hilarious—the looks, that Kuruk gave her stepfather after he spat a wad of his chewing snuff out, was most of what she viewed as hilarious, while the conversation shared between the two was also hilarious. Except for them two, everyone was in their own little world and was pretty much absorbed in their own thoughts—Kuruk had never really opened up to her stepfather; they treated each other like strangers, even though they knew who the other was and even though they had spent some time together in the same residence come time for the holidays or special events like Family Week or when Angel gave birth to her children.

Her stepfather was an avid chewer of his snuff; he preferred to chew rather than pick up a regular smoke, although he did smoke from time to time when he was really stressed out or when a special occasion was going on. According to her mother, Cheshire Keueitt Ubalki started chewing snuff almost immediately after he took a ten-year leave from teaching at Afaab High School, where he worked at so many thousands of years ago. Her stepfather had gone and purchased a hundred acres of land on Zeta Ren, his planet of birth, and he had taken that leave to plant half of it and mine the rest—according to her mother, the man mined the unplanted acres of land while waiting for the crops to mature enough to grow and then sell. His family had climbed all up his back about his purchasing that land and they had also been all over his back about his taking a ten-year leave of teaching to become a farmer and a miner—while they were okay with his becoming a farmer, they weren't okay with him being a miner; they demanded that he put all of what he took from the family vaults back and then sell what he purchased with that money and then return to teaching.

He became a millionaire almost overnight after discovering large collections of oil on ten of his fifty unplanted acres of land. Cheshire had told her himself that he paid his family back right after that discovery was made—with all the crap that they gave him over his wanting to do his dream, he washed his hands of nearly all of them afterwards. Clerabia, his older sister, was the only one that he heard from—they received mail from her almost once a week. He was disowned by his parents; he hadn't spoken with his younger brother in a long time now.

Her stepfather had pretty much been assured rich for life a year after his oil discovery—he discovered that some of the mines under his first one hundred acres of land had Gold Glass in them. Gold Glass was considered the Universe's most valuable and fashionable natural grown substance—it was also pretty rare. Most of the mines where Gold Glass was harvested from went dry very quick—the ten acres that the mines that had Gold Glass in them were still putting out ample amounts of Gold Glass every year. Even though his old acquired lands, and his subsequent acquired lands, were putting out oil and Gold Glass, he still farmed. He retired from teaching after the oil and Gold Glass discoveries were made; he was still retired now.

Qeeta was just remembering the other conversation that her stepfather and Kuruk had while on the way to the fair when she saw a triple gold flash. Tazir had picked a rather unique teleportation effect when he went to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic—whenever he teleported anywhere, he left behind a triple gold flashing effect. She turned then went to her brother at the same time that her young nephew nearly fell. Since Hazaar didn't know that they were close-by, he continued to walk on.

"Tazir, it's gotten—"

"Ssshhh," TazirVile held a finger to his lips; he then said in a very low whisper, "I see that it has."

"Can't really tell if he has other injuries to him, or if he's healthy." QeetaVile whispered. "His hair looks healthy. Not sure about the rest of him, though."

"Hair can be misleading," TazirVile responded. He started to follow his son; his sister fell in step behind him.

"Aren't you going to run over to him?" QeetaVile asked a few minutes after they started following Hazaar.

"No, I want him to find some place to sit at first." TazirVile replied. "He's injured; I don't want to aggravate his leg-injury, or any of the other injuries that he may have."

He didn't know that he was being followed; the same went with who it was that was following him—at the moment, he could give two hoots of a damn. He was trying to tell himself that the pain, that he was feeling, was worth it. All the walking that he did, and all the searching that he did for the booth that he had just gotten through playing, and the act of taking no breaks while looking for that booth, and standing around while playing that booth, was worth it—that was what he was trying to convince himself on. He kept telling himself that all of that was well worth the pain that he was experiencing and, even though he knew it was true, there was a certain voice rattling on and on in his head that was chiding him for his stubbornness in not wanting to slow up or take a break in finding the booth that he just won the two turtles from. This annoying voice was also telling him that he needed to shape up and grow up.

He knew who owned the voice that he was hearing in his head. It was the voice that he heard on a daily basis and it was a voice that belonged to someone that he lived with. It was his older brother. It was Lhaklar's voice that he was hearing. It was the voice that Lhaklar used when he was trying to do his daddy routine. It was the voice that Lhaklar used when he tried to be the rational one. It was the voice that Lhaklar used when he tried to be the "boss" of him and it was the voice that his older brother used when he tried to suck the fun out of his and their brothers' lives.

He hated that voice right now and he hated himself for hating that voice because, regardless of Lhaklar trying to act like the "big man" of the house, and regardless of Lhaklar being a pest when he tried to act like the "big man" of the house, he did love his brother. He'd be a criminal if he didn't love Lhaklar. He was raised under the same roof as Lhaklar. He went to the University of Telepathy at the same time that Lhaklar and Lazeer had. He, Lhaklar, and Lazeer had sometimes buddied up as study-mates after school let out—it was either the dorm that Lhaklar lived in or the one that he and Lazeer shared that they went to when they studied. He and Lhaklar goofed around and got into trouble sometimes. They drove their brothers crazy sometimes and they sometimes teamed up to pull a prank on their mother. Yeah, sometimes he wanted to bust his older brother's mouth to mush when he started doing that "daddy routine" of his, but he loved him. Brothers were suppose to drive themselves up the wall from time to time. It wasn't suppose to be all fine and sunshine all the time. He and Lhaklar were as close as brothers should be; they had their distant moments, and they had their moments where they fought, and they had their moments where they got on each others' nerves, but they did get along and he could always count on Lhaklar to lend him a hand if he was in trouble.

"You have no job. You rely on me and mom for money... how are you going to keep up with two extra mouths to feed?" his brother's voice, the voice that he hated at the moment, was saying. "It costs money to bring home food for them animals—them animals are expensive! You won't be able to keep up with their needs; you can't keep up with your interests and with their needs with a fifty dollar allowance."

"I can too." he thought angrily.

"You can barely keep up with yourself—"

"I can too!" he nearly said aloud.

He had yet to look at the turtles that he had won at the booth, so he didn't know what they were—all he knew was that they were tiny, yellow, and scared. They were trying to climb up the cup's sides; they saw him as a threat, so they were trying to run instead of sticking around to see if what was carrying them was a danger or not. He was given no instructions that revolved around their care, he wasn't told what species they were, and he wasn't given any paperwork that said that he had a "legal" fair-won prize—the man at the booth had just thrown them at him then told him to scram. While he didn't know what it was that was in the cup, that was in the palm of his hand, he was sure that some time in the Elchesheim-Illingen public library, or some talk with the folk who ran the local pet stores in Elchesheim-Illingen, would do the trick to both find what they were and what their care needs were.

The stuffed turtle toy—a rather silly thing that, while resembling a sea turtle, was a dark yellow color instead of green—, that had practically been thrown at him, was tucked in his armpit while the two, ceramic turtle ornaments, that were also thrown at him, were in his right hand. Both of his hands had things in them so he couldn't grab anything that was around him to keep his balance steady. He had to rely on his strength and his own balance to keep himself on his feet. His left leg had already tried to give out on him; he had managed to keep himself from falling face-down on the concrete walkway by hopping along on his right leg for a few seconds. It was past time for a Bufferin—before taking his medicine, he wanted to find a bench to sit on. Like the two turtles that were in the cup, he didn't know what the ceramic turtle ornaments looked like. After winning the two turtles, he had decided, just for the hell of it, to win three other, minor prizes.

"We went away only long enough for you to have your fun with that game, now it's time for us to return with a vengeance." his pains seemed to be saying.

Although it was mainly his hip that was doing most of the throbbing, his entire left leg hurt him. That was causing him to move around at a very slow speed and it was also causing him to feel fatigued. He felt pulled down because of the state of his leg and he felt depressed over not being able to walk on his leg the way a normal being, who had no injuries to himself, could. The pain that he felt after Lazeer body-slammed him to the concrete hadn't been that bad; he had felt some pain, and he had walked around with a right bad limp afterwards, but both had gone away after ten minutes. This pain was new. He had never felt this pain before in his leg—he was worried that something else was wrong. It felt like there was a clamp squeezing the bone in his hip; he felt a heavy pressure and there was a deep, throbbing sensation with each step that he took. It almost felt like there were daggers poking and prodding the bone in his left leg; he didn't know why his entire leg was hurting him but he did know that the pain that he was experiencing was causing him to break out in a heavy sweat. He stopped for a second to move the stuffed turtle toy out from his armpit, so it wouldn't get sweat-logged, then he walked on; his pain very nearly made him drop the ceramic turtle ornaments, and the plastic cup, that had the baby turtles in it, after that first step was done but he managed to stay upright. He managed to keep what he had in his hands from being dropped.

"Don't think of the pain!" he thought urgently. "Think of something else. Think of the weather... think of what you'll do if the weather is good for the next few days. Think of how you're going to spiff up your new turtles' cage. Shit, think of what all you will talk about while on the drive home after your mother says it's time to go."

He started doing just that after he started to breathe heavily; he was having to work hard to keep walking forward, so his pains were, in a sense, making him do some heavy-duty exercising. The first thing that he thought of, before the pain tried to creep back into his thoughts, was how his new pets' cage was going to look like. He pictured the cage as being one of them screen-topped, twenty gallon starters, and he also imagined it sitting on one of them one-shelf, bedside tables. The cage might cost him €30 or €40; the UVB and heat light fixtures might cost him just €15 a-piece, while the bulbs might cost him between €10-€20. If his new pets turned out to be a fully aquatic species, they'd have a fully aquatic environment in their cage. The bottom of their cage would have smooth, river rocks on it; there'd be some fake aquatic plants and some rocks and, if he had enough money left over after getting the cage and the cage's decor, there'd be a floating platform for them to climb on if they wanted to get out of the water or get up on something to bask under the UVB or heat lamp. If his new pet turtles turned out to be a semi-aquatic species, the cage would have an equally divided, water/land environment in it. He still had some of the stuff that he used to decorate his Spiny Turtles' cage with; the bag that had the fake autumn leaves in it, that he bought soon after he bugged Lhaklar crazy for €50, after his mother gave him and his brothers their September allowances early, was still half-full. After he put a layer of dirt substrate, gravel, and sand on the floor of the cage he could put a few of the fake autumn leaves on top of the substrate to give it a more natural look. He had one, uncoiled, fake Ivy vine left over; that could be used as another decoration in the cage.

That was really all that he had left over of that type of cage spiffing stuff; he'd have to go out and buy some fake plants, maybe another Ivy vine or two, and some cork bark pieces, and he'd also have to purchase two, natural resin, food and water bowls and a long, thick plastic tray—the latter, of which, would be put on the other side of the cage. It would act as the water-part of the cage. The dirt substrate would come right up to the lip of the thick, plastic tray; the bottom of the tray would have a layer of river or decorative rocks on it and the tray would be full of de-chlorified water. If his new turtles were of a terrestrial or fully land-based species, the cage would have a full, land-based environment in it. The cage would look like his Spiny Turtles' cage sans a water-based part... unless the turtles that were in the plastic cup preferred living in a desert-like environment. If his new pets were of a species of the desert-dwelling turtles, their cage would have a desert-like environment in it with all the fixin's that'd make it look almost like a mini-desert.

When the pain tried to creep back into his thoughts, he stopped thinking about what his new pets' cage was going to look like. He concentrated on what he'd do if the weather remained good for the next few days next. If the weather remained good—or halfway decent—, he'd take his turtles out for a short while. He'd make a rock wall come up from the ground in the backyard then he'd sit and take each of his turtles out of the tupperware containers that he put them in. They'd walk around on the grass for a bit; they'd get some natural sun-rays on their shells and bodies; and they'd get some good fresh air and exercise before he took them inside. If his leg wasn't causing him too much grief, he'd go out for a short walk of the neighborhood. He'd talk to the neighbors. He'd take in the sights, and the smells, then he'd go home. He'd lift some weights in the room that came off the house's basement. He might even take some magazines down to that room. He'd listen to some music and he might watch some tv.

Before the pain tried to creep back into his thoughts, he thought about the Eagle-1 transporter spacecraft model kit that he saw in one of the small shops that was in Karlsruhe a few weeks ago. He had really wanted to buy that model kit but he had found that his funds were a little low, so he had to walk away empty-handed. The Eagle-1 transporter spacecraft was a fictional spacecraft seen in the 1970's British television series, Space: 1999—it was the primary spacecraft of Moonbase Alpha in the series. If he had some money left over after buying a twenty gallon long starter cage, some cage decor, some cigarettes, and the November issues of the magazines that he liked to read and look at next month, he could get that model, build it, then add it to his new collection of spacecraft models.

His "new" collection of models was small in comparison to his "old" collection; while he couldn't remember how many models there were in his "old" collection he did remember that he completed more than three and he also remembered that his "old" collection consisted of more than just spaceship models. His "new" collection of models consisted of an Orion Space Shuttle, an Apollo Lunar Spacecraft, and a S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier—the box on the latter model claimed that it was of a massive, amphibious warship that was capable of traveling both on sea and in the air. He had only just finished the latter model; it had 146 parts to it and it also had a base included for the model to sit on after it was completed. All of his other models—his trains and other spaceships—were at his father's place on Moas, which was a million or million-million or even a million-million-million miles from where he was. He had no train models in his "new" collection yet, but he was keeping his eyes open whenever he was out on the town, or in the cities that were near home. He had just thought about the armored train that he saw in one of the magazines that he slipped from Bile's room when another thought came to his mind.

"Shit, Halloween's only a few days away, and there's Thanksgiving coming up!" he started to get excited with this new thought. "I might be too old to go out asking for candy but I'm not too old to watch the Halloween shows that come on the tube and I'm also not too old to help momma in the kitchen when it comes time to doing the turkey. Bile and Lhaklar will do what they always do—they'll call dibs on making the homemade potatoes and the stuffing while Lazeer and I will take turns in de-gutting the turkey and then basting it. Guyunis can do the greens and the pies and the casserole—if he wants, that is. No biggie if he doesn't want to join in. He can just watch and learn from us, if he wants to.

"Momma will do as she usually does on Thanksgiving; she'll either sit at the table, or stand in the kitchen, and say how 'we're not being fair in not letting her join in on the fun'. We'll get depressed, then we'll apologize, then we'll go off to do something else in the house while she puts the turkey in the cooking bag. The only thing that she'd really have to do after we leave the kitchen is put the turkey in the oven and then keep an eye on the food. Lazeer will do his usual jokes on how the turkey's neck looks like a penis, I'll do my usual comebacks to his jokes, and Bile and Lhaklar will either laugh or tell us to shut up then they'll take turns in running their mouths.

"Bile and Lhaklar will say dirty jokes—they'll ask which one of us will be stuffed up and then put on a spit and roasted like a pig—then Bile will chase me and Lazeer around. He'll have a wooden spoon in his hand, like he always does. He'll only stop when momma tells him to—she'll say 'Bile, not in the kitchen', then he'll go back to making the stuffing or the homemade potatoes. Lhaklar might make the turkey "dance" with his Telekinetic powers too—he always tries to make the turkey "dance" each year; he mostly does it when momma's the only one in the kitchen. She always gasps and gets spooked every time then, when she figures out that it's Lhaklar using his powers to make the turkey "dance", she'll yell out his name. She use to chase him away from the kitchen when we were living in our old apartment, wonder if she'll do the same in our house?"

He was smiling when the latter thought came to fruit in his mind. He was still smiling when he came upon a small area that had three concrete benches in it. There were two steps that led down to the area; he stumbled down them then he practically skipped over to the bench that was closest to him. He fell to one of his knees while on his way to the bench; the plastic cup that had the baby turtles in it nearly flew out of his hand, but he tightened his grip just in time to prevent that from happening. The stuffed animal toy, that he was carrying in the crook of his left arm, had fallen to the ground. He kicked the toy as he went to the bench; he only stopped doing this when he reached the bench. He didn't sit down slowly; he let his weight, and gravity, carry him down to the bench's seat. He practically sat on the bench with a plop. His muscles all relaxed and he let out of a long sigh of relief afterwards.

"Thank goodness!" Hazaar gasped. Now that he was sitting down, he noticed that his chest felt almost like it was on fire. He was breathing just as heavily as he was sweating and he was shivering with both exhaustion and cold. He was drenched from head to foot in sweat and his arms were covered in goosebumps.

He did nothing for five long minutes. His chest heaved up and down in rapid succession for most of them five minutes while he stopped sweating almost at once; after five minutes was up, his breathing calmed down. The goosebumps, that formed on his arms, went away slowly. He had very nearly stopped shivering when he decided to begin the process of taking in the prizes that he won at the Shooting Gallery game booth. The stuffed turtle toy, that fell from the crook of his arm, was resting on its side between his feet. It had a few sweaty patches on it but, for the most part, it was dry. He mouthed the spell that would send it to the trunk of his mother's Porsche D2 then, after it disappeared, he turned his attention towards the two ceramic turtle ornaments. He found himself growing angry almost at once over the bigger of the two ornaments that he won at the game booth.

The bigger of the two ceramic ornaments was nothing more than a badly chiseled rock that was painted to looked like a tortoise. The top of the rock, which was red, brown, and black, had a set of grooves chiseled into it. The chiseled grooves were very poorly done; some were faint while others were right deep. To him, the chiseled part of the ornament looked nothing like the shell of a tortoise. The dark gray head and limbs of the ornament were just long rocks that were glued onto the larger rock. Hazaar very nearly threw the ornament away. He couldn't believe that he was given a rock that was crudely made to look like a tortoise. The human had said ceramic turtle ornament, not a bunch of rocks that were glued to a bigger rock! It took him a lot of effort to not throw the thing away; he forced himself to say the spell that would send the thing to his mother's car's trunk. He figured that it'd be good for something—he could use the thing as a paper weight, or just something to take up space on one of the shelves of his bookshelf. His mother might also have some use for the thing.

After sending the ornament that was made up as a crude representation of a tortoise to the Porsche D2's trunk, he looked at the other ceramic turtle ornament. He found himself as liking this one a lot more than the rock-made tortoise representation. The turtle ornament that he was looking at was painted with a combination of either yellow or green high gloss paint; it was another representation of a tortoise, but it was a lot better than the one that was made out of rocks. The shell-part of the ornament was hollowed out—Hazaar thought that the piece was much too pretty to be used as an ashtray. He spell-sent that ornament to the Porsche's trunk then he looked at the plastic cup that had the baby turtles in it.

"Jack—Fuckin'—Pot!" he exclaimed. It was almost an instant thing that the corners of his O-shaped mouth curved up.

He never really noticed that the world around him had grown quiet and still; he was too immersed in his excitement over what it was that was in the cup to give a care over the sudden quiet and stillness that had settled around him. After seeing that one of the ceramic turtle ornaments was a bunch of glued together rocks, he had grown a bit nervous over what else the human that manned the Shooting Gallery game booth had given him. He had started to worry over the two turtles that were in the plastic cup after seeing that he was given a non-ceramic turtle ornament. He knew that some humans painted the shells of certain turtles up to make them look more "pretty" or "appealing" to perspective buyers and he also knew that certain humans also liked to paint and decorate a turtle's shell for fun too, which was wrong in so many areas.

Paint was heavy and it had chemicals in it that could well harm a turtle. A turtle breathed through its shell—if the shell was painted over, the turtle couldn't breathe. A turtle's internal organs could suffocate because of the paint that was covering its shell. A turtle could absorb the paint's chemicals through its shell—that could cause health problems or even death for the turtle. After seeing what one of the "ceramic" ornaments looked like, he had grown concerned that the yellow-looking turtles, that the human that was manning the Shooting Gallery game booth was giving out, were really just painted-up turtles. He was now finding that his concern was all for nothing.

The two, game-won turtles were nearly three inches long and wide; they were rather colorful. Their shells were a dull, yellow-gold color, while the the limb sockets, and the undersides of the limbs and tail, were a brilliant pinkish-orange color; the sides of the limbs on both of the baby turtles were either a brown, a gray, or an olive-green color. The two baby turtles had narrow and pointed heads, that were also rather colorful. The top of the head of the smaller of the two turtles was yellow while the top of the bigger turtle's head was olive-green; both of the baby turtles had yellow-orange patches behind both of their eyes. Even though there was a thick, black line extending from the nose to the side of each of the turtles' faces, the lines on the smaller turtle were thinner. The upper and lower jaws of the two turtles were yellow while the underside of the turtles' necks was a pinkish-orange color. It looked like the turtles' shells were hinged—both of the turtles could pull their heads, tails, and limbs into their shells.

Hazaar's throat made a dry, clicking sound as he swallowed; with a rather shaky hand, he removed the plastic cup's lid then reached into the cup for one of the turtles. He didn't know why he was reaching into the cup—he guessed that he wanted to get a better look at the two turtles, and he also guessed that his excitement over finally seeing what was put in the cup had caused him to forget that the two turtles were scared and nervous of their surroundings and of the "threateningly huge and scary monster" that they were handed off to. He hadn't done this with his Spiny Turtles; he had only picked his Spiny Turtles, and his Eastern Long Necked Turtles, up to put them in their new cages. He had let them get accustomed to their new homes first before the act of handling them was done—mostly, he just picked them up to see if there was anything amiss with their health or if they were growing correctly. His action of trying to pick one of his new pets up was abnormal; he forced himself to remove his hand from the cup. He put the cup's lid back on then he spell-sent his new pets to his room, where he figured they'd be safe. After the turtles were sent away, he reached down to untuck his shirt. It was time for him to take another Bufferin and it was also time for him to go back to enjoying the fair. He had just touched the fabric of his shirt when a hand plopped down on his shoulder.

"I'm just sitting here," he said. He thought that it was a fair guard. He thought that someone of the law had grown suspicious of him—he was the only one in the area where the benches were, and he had also been doing a suspicious action. The hand that was on his shoulder didn't lift up; it just sat there for nearly ten seconds. Hazaar started to stand when he felt the hand's fingers start to press into the fabric of his shirt—whoever it was that owned the hand that was on his shoulder was starting to squeeze his or her hand. Hazaar turned around when he felt the hand's fingers begin to press into the flesh of his shoulder; the words that he wanted to say to the person that had him by the shoulder didn't so much as die on his tongue as much as they just evaporated.

While people were interested in what was going on at the booth they kept their distance; the sign, that was put up no more than ten minutes ago, was being looked at seriously, as was the presence of the three fair guards that were taking the booth down. The sign was pretty basic; it was mostly white except for a thick, black border. The message that was on the sign was clear and crisp. The letters were drawn on thickly and boldly in black. C-L-O-S-E-D—that was what the sign said. The booth was closed. It had been closed for the last ten minutes; the reason for that was mostly centered on the actions of two men. A near violent confrontation occurred between the booth's proprietor and a man who, at the moment, no one recognized.

The three fair guards had come running over after the booth's proprietor started screaming at the man that he was fussing with; they had only just gotten there when the proprietor swung his fist at the man. The man that the booth's proprietor had hit was still in the area; he gave one of the fair guards a statement over what was going on, and why he was there, after the three men subdued the one who assaulted him. The game booth's proprietor was currently seated against the blue kiddie pool; his hands were cuffed behind his back.

Even though the fair-goers didn't know who the man who had been assaulted by the game booth's proprietor was the three fair guards did—they had recognized him right after they came running up to put an end to the near violent confrontation that the two men were having. Stefan Leinart looked like he needed a good, cold beer and a bag of ice; his jaw was red and slightly swollen from when he was punched by the booth's proprietor... who was three inches shorter, and who was some seventy or eighty pounds lighter, than he.

"I'm surprised that Mr. Bisset was allowed to set-up shop here," Nils Kempf, a middle-aged man of African descent, who was wearing a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers, said. Nils Kempf was asked to wear this attire—he was a plainclothesman; for the last fifteen years, he had been working as a plainclothesman for the Munich polizei department. Nils Kempf had a few sheets of paper in his hands; he had found each of them after looking under the booth's folding chair. He was looking through them carefully. "These are all forged. The signatures are very horribly done—don't match up with the signatures of the sponsors."

"In a way, not surprised." Martin Huff, a thirty-four year old man who had brown hair and eyes, said. Martin Huff, like Nils Kempf, was a plainclothesman. He was wearing an orange and brown checked flannel shirt over a white t-shirt; the black jeans were very normal, as were the brown shoes that were on his feet. "The station claims that this isn't the first offense from Mr. Bisset. He's done time in the slammer three times for similar offenses. In France, and then in Spain."

"Some people just don't seem to want to learn," Nils said. He slid the papers into the folder that he had found them in then he put the folder in the box that he was putting the other evidence that he was finding in. Nils looked at Stefan, his country's president, who looked to be gazing off into space, after doing this. "Mr. Leinart, you doin' alright over there?"

"I'm fine, bit dazed but fine." Stefan answered. The only problem with him was the fact that he was in a state of shock. After Hazaar finished playing the booth, he walked up; he had expected for a small altercation to happen—the act of the booth's owner, a man named Bastian Bisset, who was from France, acting so violently towards him was a shock.

"Take five, Mr. Leinart." Poldi Lieberenz, a man who had gray hair, near white sideburns, and steely blue eyes, said. Poldi Lieberenz was the only one of the three guards who was wearing a uniform; he was down, beside the boxes that had the turtles in them. "What did the paperwork say these turtles were again, Nils?"

There were three species of turtles at the booth; all of them were put in plastic bins, that had either very little or no water in them, and then were given out as prizes. After Nils Kempf started searching the booth, looking for papers that would say that it was legal by both fair and country standards, it was discovered that all three species weren't native to Germany. One of the turtles was a native of India while the other two came from Southern China and Northern Vietnam. Bastien Bisset, who was still steaming mad, and who was apt to trying to kick his legs out in his anger over being cuffed and caught in doing something that was illegal, had given all of his Indian Star Tortoises out. He very nearly gave all of his Indian Flapshell Turtles out; the only species that he still had plenty of was the Golden Coin Turtle. Mr. Bastien Bisset was in a lot of trouble—along with being caught running an illegal booth, and having forged documents that said that he could put said illegal booth up, he had also been caught giving out live turtles as prizes and owning and then selling endangered turtles.

While the Indian Flapshell Turtle wasn't classified as an endangered species by the IUCN—that one particular species had never really been on the IUCN's list of endangered species; it was a species that was pretty widespread in South Asia and India—the Indian Star Tortoise, and the Golden Coin Turtle, were two of the most highly endangered turtle species on the planet. The Indian Star Tortoise had been on the IUCN's endangered species list twelve times; the species had recovered after the natural disasters and plagues happened only to be brought back down by either habitat destruction or human demand: the species was a highly sought one for the pet trade.

The Golden Coin Turtle, on the other hand, had made a comeback after three natural disasters and a war. The Golden Coin Turtle had once been found only on turtle farms in China; the Chinese had only used the animal as the key ingredient in their medicinal dessert, Guīlínggāo or Turtle or Tortoise Jelly. Many of the thousands of farm-captive turtles had escaped from their farm environments after two natural disasters happened. Many others had followed. The newly wild specimens had bred; the population had grown only to dwindle after the Chinese discovered that the wild-bred turtles gained more dollar on the market. The species went extinct in the wild four times and, up to a hundred years ago, it was thought that the species had gone fully extinct. On August 12, 4000, a whole colony of Golden Coin Turtles was discovered in a remote location near the Vietnam border; the Chinese had started capturing, farming, and then killing the turtles to put in their medicinal dessert jelly soon after. Of the five hundred turtles that were rediscovered, only a hundred were left in the wild. The last plague had caused the turtles to make a comeback but their numbers were still questionable due to the farming and over-collection. A zoo in England had twenty Golden Coin Turtles—all wild caught from the location near the Vietnam/China border. Since the Golden Coin Turtle and the Indian Star Tortoise were so rare, it was illegal to sell them as pets; the people who received them as prizes would either have to relinquish their turtles or have to apply for a permit. Mr. Bastien Bisset was looking at some heavy jail-time because of his having and then giving out the two endangered turtles as prizes.

"Put him on charges of running a game booth without a license; having forged documents, which claim that he has a license to run a game booth at Oktoberfest; for giving out live, non-fish, animals as prizes; for putting the lives of fair-going civilians at risk; and for giving out and having highly endangered animals without a permit." Poldi Lieberenz said as he pulled the plug out of the kiddie pool. The rubber ducks had already been removed from the pool; the pellet guns were now being put in boxes while the remaining turtles had been put in plastic animal carriers a long time ago. "Should a charge for assault also be added to that list, Mr. Leinart?"

"N—"

"You ask that big flake-out buffoon anything and he'll come back saying no. Pussy president." Bastien Bisset growled. He looked up, at Stefan, then smiled a wicked smile. "Is I right, Pussy Man?"

"Not just any ordinary assault charge, Mr. Lieberenz." Stefan said. He locked his hazel-colored eyes with Bastien Bisset's furious brown ones. "Assault of a public official."

" _You bastard!_ "Bastian Bisset shrieked. Bastien's short, black hair flew into his eyes. The front of Bastien Bisset's red and green flannel shirt had come unbuttoned; his near skin-tight, silver pants were pulled back tightly in the groin section. Stefan shrugged his shoulders at the slim man then stepped back fast—Bastien Bisset had suddenly yanked and then thrown his head forward at him. The green loogie, that Bastien Bisset had just spat at him, landed on the toe of his brown shoe a second later. The gross collection of spit and snot would of splattered against his pant leg if he would of remained where he was standing.

He stared at the man, who hadn't only just tried to violate him with the collection of spit and snot but who had also been discovered as being a three-time criminal, in shock which quickly turned to deep hate. If there weren't people around, he would of done more than just turn around and walk away. He would of given a certain someone named Bastien Bisset a good kick in the skull. Seeing as there were people around, and seeing as he couldn't let his anger get the better of him, he just told the three fair guards to finish up with the closing down of the booth. He said for Nils, Martin, and Poldi to have a good night then he turned around. He walked away as Bastien Bisset sat, laughing and cursing at his backside. At the moment, Stefan was glad to be wearing a pair of normal, everyday shoes—if he was wearing a pair of his good, workday shoes, and a collection of spit and snot had landed on them, he wouldn't of just stood there in shock. He had dressed pretty casual for this event just so the press and his nation's people wouldn't recognize him and, so far, it was working. Except for Munich's mayor, Dieter Kronawitter, he was left alone to enjoy the fair with his wife and Miss. Irene—and his children, who he, his wife, and Miss. Irene had happened upon on two or three occasions that evening.

Miss. Irene had taken his wife's constant questions in stride; they had learned a lot about her during the three hours that they were at the fair. Miss. Irene claimed that she enjoyed making Water Works—she was the special effects "artist" for that film; Water Works went out in theaters on July 12, 3098, it was a smashing success—and she also claimed that she had fun in making the two films that she also did the special effects for. The two films that followed—Shake and Volcano Eruption—had also been box office smash successes because of her "artistic" abilities—her powers, meaning. Miss. Irene claimed that the studio that was doing Volcano Eruption was hard on her; she had to be off the set for a while to tend matters at home with her sons. That was a lot of the reason for why the effects for that film weren't as good as the ones incorporated in Shake or Water Works. The film had still been a success at the box office, despite the effects not being as good as her prior film associations.

When his wife asked their friend about her involvement in the film Helen Erupts, Miss. Irene had gone quiet. Helen Erupts had been another box office smash success, and it had made a lot of people rich. Miss. Irene, after a few minutes of silence, had told his wife that the director for that film, and the film's studio, had very nearly fired her for her inability to show up to do the film's effects. Her sons had kept her from coming to work. She had to leave work to go tend to her sons and their needs; the studio and the film's director hadn't understood that.

Most surprising was the fact that Miss. Irene didn't have just five sons. His wife had asked the question of how many children their friend had while they were enjoying a helping of Bratwurst with a side of cabbage; his jaw had come close to dropping to the table after she said that she had another child out there. Angel Irene, his planet's heroine, had an adopted daughter named Eshal who, Miss. Irene claimed, was rather close to her birth-fader. Since her adopted daughter was under no threat by Master Vile, and since she was so close to her fader, Miss. Irene had decided to leave her with her fader. Miss. Irene did claim that she loved her adopted daughter just as much as she did her biological sons and Guyunis. He and his wife guessed that the act of their friend leaving her daughter behind, with her birth-fader, was the right thing to do—Miss. Irene had said that, if she had caught the scent of anything amiss or dangerous coming towards her adopted daughter, she would of brought her along with her sons to Earth too. Before Bile, Miss. Irene had eight other children, most, of which, were miscarried. There was one child born still, and she aborted her first child sired by her father. Rather shockingly, her grandfader had taken it upon himself to remove another child from her womb.

"My grandfather had help in doing that deed; my father held my arms while the man that I call my rightful husband held my legs." Angel Irene said, continuing with the conversation on the child that was taken from her womb. "My grandfather used this gun that enabled him to operate without the use of anesthesia; after cutting the fetus's lines, he gave it to my father. While my father held the gun, my grandfather removed the fetus from me."

"Your... rightful husband helped to hold you down while your grandfader removed a child that you were carrying?" Rosalinde said slowly. Shock and anger was quite present in her voice, and her face looked quite red in color. "How can you call such a man a husband? How—"

"I would of lost the baby," Angel Irene said. She looked at the sausage, that was on her plate, before saying more. "I can't have children by a human; the child that my grandfather removed from me was around four months old... I would of lost it a week to a week and a half later."

"How do you know that? You can't possibly—"

"Before Bile was born, all of my other pregnancies failed at four and a half to nearly five months gestation." Miss. Irene said quickly. "I can't produce offspring with a human; I can with someone that isn't human but I can't give birth to a living child that's been sired by a human."

"I take it that you see what they did in taking that child from you as a favor?" he asked. His friend had simply nodded her head. They spoke about something else after a few minutes of heavy silence fell between them.

Since the conversation was happening between two women—his wife and his female friend—he hadn't been able to step in to calm things down or smooth things out. There were some conversations that men weren't meant to be apart of; the one that his wife and his female friend were having was one of them. While he didn't have any comments on what his friend had confided to his wife, his wife had obviously had plenty to spit out. His wife was plenty upset, angry, and offended after his female friend said that she considered the taking of one of her unborn children a favor.

He and Rosalinde had been married for eighteen years and four months; their oldest was sixteen, but they had two others that were older than her. The two children that they had before Annelise was born had, sadly, been lost—one shortly after conception and the other four months after conception. The child that was lost after it was in his wife's womb for four months was actually removed by a doctor; his wife had a complication during her pregnancy. Her life was in jeopardy so it was decided that, for her to live, her unborn child had to be removed. Sophie Annelise Leinart, who they called just Annelise, was born abnormally small. She spent some time in the NICU before being brought home. Thede was born perfectly healthy, while Rainmund... well, his wife and he had worried themselves sick when he was in the womb. Rosalinde was on bed rest for most of her last pregnancy. His wife had gotten her tubes tied after Rainmund was born.

Women were complex creatures; they had different emotions and triggers than men and they reacted differently to certain things that a man would normally not worry over. Though he respected and loved his wife, he did think that she was somewhat strange from time to time and, even stranger, she knew that he thought of her as strange. They joked about it sometimes; she referred to herself as Mrs. Strange-Rosalinde Leinart when the children weren't around. His wife's attitude towards Miss. Irene had changed after she was told about Miss. Irene's husband participating in the removal of one of her children and about Miss. Irene seeing that child's removal as a favor thing. Rosalinde had referred to Miss. Irene as _his_ friend—not theirs, just plain his—afterwards. He guessed that he'd have to talk to her about it; he also guessed that it'd be a while before his wife saw why Miss. Irene thought of the removal of one of her children that she had said she would of lost regardless of it being taken from her as a favor. Miss. Irene knew more about herself than he and his wife did—she probably had reason to consider that one child being taken from her as being a favor. After miscarrying seven of the eight children that she had before going through a successful pregnancy, that produced her oldest son, he guessed that she had a reason for thinking that the removal of one fetus as a favor. Women were emotional when it came to their offspring and they got especially emotional when they lost one of them; Miss. Irene was probably seeing the removal of that one child as being a favor to her in the regards to her not getting but so emotional over it.

A slight breeze struck him; except for the usual fair antics, that whole night had been still and quiet. It had also been a bit too warm for his liking. It was nice to feel a little cool breeze drift across his flesh. His thoughts were momentarily quieted with that breeze. He walked down the concrete path, that joined many others, in silence for a few minutes then, when he reached an area, where there looked to be around twenty or so people milling around, he stopped. The first thought that crossed his mind was that some fight was happening. There were a lot of people at Oktoberfest drinking—drunkenness did cause people to lose track of their senses. Drunkenness can cause people to be peaceful; some people just fall asleep after they got drunk, while others just got real quiet or funny, and others just got raving mad. He figured that two or more people had started a fight; the people that were around them had just formed one of them fighting rings—like the ones that kids made when one of their school-mates started to throw out the punches. He was just walking by the cluster of people when Annelise, Thede, and Rainmund ran into him. Annelise stepped in front of him while Thede wrapped her arms around his middle. Rainmund grabbed his hand.

"Hey kids," he said. He gave Thede a pat on the head before pulling Rainmund in for a hug. "Ready to go home yet, or are you just running up to say hello?"

"No," Rainmund answered. He then went quiet. He wrapped his short arms around his father then he buried his head into his father's stomach. Stefan found this a little strange; Rainmund only did this when he was scared, or nervous.

"We have a little under two hours left before we head for home," Stefan said. Even though it wasn't a school-night he did want to get home before three o'clock. Stefan's forehead grew wrinkled when he took in his oldest daughter's appearance. Annelise's cheeks and forehead were red, but the rest of her face was a pale-white color. Stefan looked at his two other children; he tilted their heads up then grew alarmed. Thede and Rainmund's faces looked just the same as their sister's. "You three feeling alright? You look a bit unwell to me."

"How many bruders does Hazaar have again, datty?" Annelise totally ignored the question that her father had asked her and her siblings. Her father gave her a confused look. His confused look grew even more confused with the next question that she asked. "Does Hazaar have any bruders that have light blue skin?"

"Annelise, you know how many bruders Hazaar has. He has four and, no, none of them have light blue skin." Stefan answered after being silent for a few seconds. Stefan felt his oldest daughter's forehead; it felt cold to him. When he looked more closely at his daughter, he saw that she looked afraid—her pupils were dilated, and she was breathing a little on the heavy side. "Annelise, what's going on? What's wr—"

The people that were in front of the little area, where he went to sit and rest, had started milling around after he managed to yell after his initial shock over who it was that owned the hand, that was plopped on his shoulder, had passed. He had yelled quite loudly after looking up and then seeing his father standing behind him. He had actually leaped up and then tried to run away afterwards; his father had manage to catch him before he went two steps. Dear, old, aunt Qeeta had come right behind his father almost like a shadow. Once his father's hands were on him, he was ripped and then torn and then twisted all over the place—he went from his father to his aunt and then back to his father again. Once, he had nearly fallen, but his father had caught him just in time, then he had found himself as being yanked around to facing his aunt. His leg was screaming in pain, and he was near to being terrified. His breath was coming out heavy again; he was sweating again. He wasn't shivering any, though.

There was no way in hell that he could yell for help, or scream, or even say anything in a normal way; his tongue was all tied up, and his throat was too tight and dry for him to speak, much less yell out or scream for help.

The fair was over for him; he was quite sure of that. With his father here, he was sure that his mother would be yelling for everyone to pack up shop and get ready to move out of the area—honestly, he wouldn't complain or bitch about having to leave. His honest opinion on his father wasn't good—he thought that his father was an uncaring bastard. This opinion stemmed from what happened earlier that year, in January. The man hadn't given two hoots of a damn about him after he woke up after having a nightmare—which wasn't a nightmare at all; it was Guyunis, who was only trying to get in contact with him. His mother had gone to pieces after he woke up, screaming in terror on that January night. She had rushed up to see what was up. While she gave him comfort, his father threatened to punish him; the man hadn't even budged to care after the gashes, that went down the length of his arms, were made known to him the morning following that nightmare's occurrence.

He was terrified on that January night; had his father cared or tried to give him any comfort? No, he had just said that he was going to be punished if he didn't quiet up, stop being childish, and quit acting out.

Hazaar heard his shirt rip in the back, then he felt his body pitch backward after his father yanked him around to facing him; he fell back, against his aunt, who gave him a push forward. The humans that were milling around the area, where the stone benches were, gasped loudly. Stefan Leinart was attracted to this gasp; he was walking towards the group of people that were surrounding the area when Hazaar tried to knock his father off balance. His attempt was a feeble one, which his father perceived wrongly; his father must of thought that his attempt to knock him off balance was really his way of asking for a hug because he suddenly felt his arms wrap around him. His father had started fussing over him and his leg right after he caught him after he had tried to run away. He was constantly asking him what happened to his leg and where the pain that he was feeling was stemming from. Stefan Leinart had just pushed through a line of people when Hazaar shoved himself forward; he used every ounce of strength that he had in him to push his father off balance. If his father hadn't re-positioned himself, he would of fallen back on the concrete. Hazaar's sudden terror evaporated a second later when his father gave him a firm swat on the behind. The emotion that replaced the terror was anger—raw, red, and deadly.

"Well, I'm glad that whatever you've gone through in the last several months hasn't dampened your attitude any." TazirVile said after disciplining his son. He had nearly toppled over the bench that his son was sitting on nearly five minutes ago.

"Still a right feisty fellow—that's a good thing." QeetaVile said. She grabbed Hazaar by the arm then pulled him around to facing her. "Looks like it's only his left leg that's been injured. He uses his arms well, and his other leg looks to not be causing him any pain."

"My wife said that our sons are of the strong elite once—I do believe her on that." TazirVile said. Hazaar slapped at his hand when he started running it down his hip. TazirVile responded by slapping his son's hand right back. "You stop that. Not here to hurt you, or to cause any further injury to you. I'm only here to find and then bring you home."

"Looks thinner than he was in January," QeetaVile said. She pulled the tail of Hazaar's shirt over to the left; she released it after seeing a body indent. "I'd say he's lost between ten and fifteen pounds."

"I have not!" the sudden anger that took the place of Hazaar's terror made his ability to speak return. Hazaar was about to say more when his father grabbed him by the shoulder; the man turned him around, so that he was facing him. Hazaar glared angrily; his father said nothing about the glare.

"He'll gain that back after he's eaten a few good meals." TazirVile said. "Poor kid, probably hasn't had anything decent to eat in months."

"I have t—"

"Hush, son." TazirVile said. He untucked his son's shirt then pulled it up. Hazaar lunged forward. He pushed his father hard; his father went only a step back before regaining his balance. TazirVile lightly pushed his son back then looked down; with his Telekinetic powers, he made the magazine, and the brown paper bag, that fell out of his son's shirt, float up to his hand. He looked at the magazine first. "I see that you're still reading this filth."

"Surprised that he has it," QeetaVile sighed. "Must of taken it from one of them outside stands."

"This month's issue, surprised. Was expecting for it to be—" TazirVile leaned back when his son lunged at him again. Hazaar grabbed the magazine from his father then tried to run off; he didn't get but a step before his father's hand wrapped around his wrist. "And where do you think you're going, Young Man?"

The humans, that were milling around, gasped loudly as he pushed his son against his sister. He had only given his young son a light push, but he guessed that the humans had seen his lightness as rough. At the moment, he really didn't care whether or not there was a mob in the area or if there were only two or three humans around to witness what was going on between he, his sister, and his young son; all he cared about right now was looking into his son's well-being. He let his son have the magazine; when his son tried to lunge forward, for the brown paper bag, he took a step back. Qeeta wrapped her hand around Hazaar's arm; she was reaching down to tuck his son's shirt back into his pants when he was opening the brown paper bag. He had expected to only find some things of candy—his son was at a fair and fair's routinely gave out candy and other foods that are baggable, after all—in the bag. When he took out a white bottle, that had a tag on the front that said Bufferin, he, himself, gasped.

True, he didn't know what the humans took in the way of pain relievers and, true, he didn't know that his son only had the pills on his possession because of his leg-pains but, still... he felt his chest grow heavy as the anger seeped into it. The bottle's tag simply said _Bufferin; Regular Strength Buffered Aspirin_. He really didn't pay much mind to what the tag said. He and Qeeta had followed Hazaar to this location; while his son was examining what he had in his possession, they stole around the area's borders quietly. All of the items that his son had in his possession—some stuffed animal toy, and a plastic cup that had some sort of animal in it—hadn't been on him when he made his presence known. He figured that his son was so hungry that he just plain ate whatever was in the plastic cup raw and he also figured that his son had also eaten the toy—that was the only logical explanation he could think of on why Hazaar didn't have them items in his possession.

He could accept his son eating an animal raw and, in some strange sort of way, he could also accept that his son—who he thought had been baching it on his own for so long—had eaten a toy, but he couldn't accept that his son had a pill bottle that felt half-full on his person. He was about to ring out a lecture on the item that he had found in the paper bag when his sister pulled a half full pack of Marlboro cigarettes out from the left back pocket of his son's pants.

"You think I'm just going to find these and think everything is peachy-fine in the Universe, son?" TazirVile asked his son. His voice was heavy... Grave... Full of anger! TazirVile reached over then grabbed the half-pack of Marlboro's from his sister; Qeeta gave him a questioning look then glanced over at the throng of humans that were nearby. TazirVile surprised her a second later by nearly slapping Hazaar in the face with the pack of cigarettes. "You trying to prove something to everyone? Cigarettes at your age! P—"

"Tazir?" Qeeta said shakily. TazirVile ignored her.

"Temperamental phase does _not_ mean that you can go out and _be a Juvenile Delinquent_!" TazirVile nearly shouted. This time, he actually _did_ hit his son in the face with the cigarette pack. Hazaar reacted by throwing himself forward. Qeeta's grip had become loose; he managed to simply shake her off. He charged at his father after he was free. He very nearly bit the tip of his tongue a second later, after his father gave him a firm shove back.

Stefan's mouth dropped so low that, if it hadn't been attached to his upper jaw, it would of touched the ground. After seeing the alien, that he saw in a photograph earlier that month, he went cold. He had begun to wonder how the alien had gotten into the shields that his planet's heroine had put up over two thousand years ago after he saw it... and its companion.

The second alien that was with the one alien that was photographed by one of the drones earlier that month looked feminine. While this unknown alien looked to have black hair, she also looked to have a short, black horn sticking out from the back of her—if it was a female, that was—head. The short, black horn had a blunt end to it. His jaw had snapped shut after the alien, that was wearing a burgundy tuxedo, that had a tail that trailed down to the ground, called Hazaar a juvenile delinquent. His skin grew tight and hot as gasps rang out behind him; if not for the one alien that was wearing the tuxedo shoving Hazaar, them gasps wouldn't of been emitted.

He didn't gasp along with everyone else. Instead of simply gasping, he reached into his brown and tan sport coat.

"Isn't someone going to help that poor boy?" a woman behind him asked.

"That's one of our heroine's sons," a teenage boy, who stood behind him and off to his left, said. "Isn't he? Isn't he one of our heroine's sons?"

"You think I wasn't going to see them pills?" the tuxedo-wearing alien, who seemed to have a gravelly-sounding voice, exclaimed. "What's the _matter_ with you, Hazaar? You think I was going to be all concerned over your injured leg that I wasn't going to say anything on the pills that—"

"N-n-n-no..." Stefan thought he detected a note of fear coming from Hazaar then, at the last second, Hazaar's angry yell reached his ears. Stefan looked up to see that Hazaar was still on the concrete; he was trying to scoot back on his rear and get up at the same time. When the strange, tuxedo-wearing alien lunged and then grabbed him up by the arm, Hazaar roared out a command. "Lemme alone, dad!"

His jaw threatened to fall again; he forced it to stay shut as he wrestled the Walther PPK .380 semi-automatic pistol from his shoulder holster. The people that were behind him seemed just as surprised as he over Hazaar claiming the alien as his fader; there were a lot of gasps being sounded behind him, and there were a lot of people crying and yelling for help too.

The Walther seemed to be stuck in his shoulder holster; from the moment that he got up that morning, he had a strange feeling that it would be needed so, before he and his family left the house to go to the second-held Oktoberfest, he made a quick trip up to his and his wife's bedroom.

The room's cedar dresser was old; while most of the dresser's were full of pants, shirts, and undergarments, the top drawer was clothes-free and it had a lock on it for a fine reason. He kept his old, but still usable, Walther PPK .380 semi-automatic pistol in it. The drawer that the gun was locked up in was kept locked for a reason—he didn't want his children to find the gun. He didn't want his children taking the gun out, he didn't want them to go out playing with the gun, and he didn't want them to hurt themselves with it. He also didn't want the gun to be a "free prize" to some person who decided to break into his family's house. Before leaving his and Rosalinde's bedroom, he loaded a full clip into the gun. A brown leather shoulder holster was wrapped around his shoulders then the gun was slid in; the sport coat that he was wearing had only been donned as a way to conceal the weapon. Stefan had just remembered that he needed to undo the snap that kept the flap over the gun when a fair guard suddenly walked into the area where Hazaar and the two aliens were.

"Tazzy, maybe you should do this in private?" QeetaVile said. She was nervous, and embarrassed, by her brother's actions. TazirVile went silent; he released his son's arm then took two steps back. He looked down at Hazaar, who had started to mouth off at him right after he started chiding him over his having the pill bottle on his person. Hazaar had a mean look to him... an angry look that he wished he'd drop. TazirVile was about to tell his son to drop his expression when he felt the fingers of a hand tap him on the shoulder. TazirVile turned around; he was mildly surprised to see that there was a human standing just two feet from him. The human was of the male gender; he had red-brown hair, blue eyes, and he was wearing a blue police uniform

"This be the secon' time I be comin' to yer aid me boy," the human, who spoke in a rather thick accent, said to Hazaar. The human then turned his attention towards TazirVile. "I be sayin' this to ye once and only once, ye get goin'. Leave this here boy be."

"Wh... I beg your pardon? Do you know who you're talking to, mister?" TazirVile shot in an anger-induced shock. Qeeta took two steps from the fair guard; she looked down, at Hazaar, who was now getting to his feet.

"I don't be needin' to know who ye is, Feller. All I knows is that ye is causin' trouble." the human guard said.

"I'm his father," TazirVile said. He took a step closer to the guard then stopped. He held his position firm. "I'm not causing trouble here; I am only being a father to my s—"

"I be seein' ye pullin' an' throwin' him around; that, in me mind, is ye causin' him harm." the human returned. There was a light in his eyes that TazirVile didn't much like. It was an angered light... a light that was brought on by anger.

"Sir, while I understand, and appreciate, what you're trying to do I must insist that you go on your way." TazirVile said. He had decided to try to calm down.

Stefan ripped the Walter PPK .380 semi-automatic pistol out from his shoulder holster at the same time that the guard looked over at Hazaar. The guard gave Hazaar a good sizing up; he took in the youngsters face, then he took in the way his body was being held. Hazaar mouthed the words _help me_ to the guard, who nodded his head almost at once. Something happened that made the throng of people scatter in a blind panic—the guard, an obvious vetern of the force, had taken his nightstick from its slot on his belt. He took his stick out then he pulled it back. The stick's end was thrown forward, into the stomach of the light blue-skinned alien.

The light blue-skinned alien made a grunting sound then looked at the guard, who had just thrown his nightstick back. In preparation for a blow that'd strike his chest. Before the stick could be thrown forward, it suddenly flew up and then out of the man's hand. The guard's nightstick floated above his head for a second before being flung to the side; before the man could say anything, he found himself as being flung back by an invisible force. The man was trying to get on his feet when he heard a loud bang that he recognized—it could of only come from a gun being fired; he had no other explanation for the cause of the loud bang that he had just heard.

The loud bang that he had just heard was followed by a loud, and feminine-sounding, scream.

" _Qeeta!_ " TazirVile yelled. He ran over to his sister, who was nearly doubled over. She shook her hand then pointed to the left.

"For-forget about me, Hazaar ran off in that direction." QeetaVile said shakily. Although the hole, from where the bullet went into her leg, was bleeding quite profusely, she didn't feel much pain. At the moment, she was more scared than hurt.

He never would of shot at the teal-skinned alien, who had the black hair and the black, blunt-ended, horn-like appendage on the back of her head, if she hadn't of grabbed Hazaar by the arm. Hazaar was trying to back out of the area and the alien had prevented him from doing so; he had shot at the alien to ensure Hazaar's escape. He had just aimed and then fired. The feminine-sounding and looking alien would live; his bullet had only gone in and then through the flesh of her lower leg.

Stefan tore off in pursuit of Hazaar, who had disappeared from where he was standing only to reappear twenty feet away; he held his gun at the ready just in case he had to fire at the other alien as he followed his friend's son. Hazaar was running; how he was running so perfectly, with his leg being in the state that it was in, was beyond him, but the youngster was running and he was running quite quickly. Annelise, Thede, and Rainmund were running behind him in that order; they were scared but they seemed to be relieved to finally be away from the situation that they had just witnessed. Hazaar ran for nearly five minutes before finally stopping. He collapsed soon after stopping. Stefan and his children caught up quickly. While Annelise, Thede, and Rainmund stood by, Stefan knelt down.

"Hazaar?" Stefan said. Hazaar looked at him for only a second before starting to cry. Stefan reacted by simply giving Hazaar a pat on the shoulder; he thought, and believed, that Hazaar was in his right to be getting hysterical.

"He-he-he..." Hazaar stuttered a few seconds later. He was trying to get himself under control but, once he had done so, he found himself growing hysterical again. "I'm n-n-not a juh-juh-juvenile deh-deh-linquent, ah-am I M-Mr. Leinart?"

"No, you're a kid. Just a kid who behaves like he should." Stefan answered. He didn't need to ask Hazaar if he was offended over being called a juvenile delinquent by... his father. While he didn't know Hazaar as much as Hazaar's mother did, he did know that the kid didn't act like a juvenile delinquent. "Hazaar, you behave like a normal teenage boy should. Nothing wrong with how you act or behave. You're normal."

"M-M-Mr. Leinart—"

"Yes?"

"Wh-where's my m-m-mom?"

It took a short while for Hazaar to calm down; when he did, Stefan asked for him to stand up. Stefan threw Hazaar's left arm over his shoulder then he began to walk away. His children followed behind him without being told to. While Stefan was taking Hazaar to the spot where he left his wife and his friend aka Hazaar's mother, Angel Irene, at, Bile and Lhaklar were just finishing up with the two women that they had picked up as their dates only an hour and twenty minutes before.

Except for Bile and Lhaklar, and their dates, the fair's parking lot was empty. There was only one or two people milling around in the lot when Lhaklar and his date, a woman named Dorle, made their way into it. The one or two people that were in the parking lot went back into the fair soon after they started getting busy in the front seat of the i8 BMW. They had just moved their business to the BMW's back seats when Bile and his date, a woman named Amaline, walked into the lot. Bile was fully against using his mother's Porsche D2 after he and Amaline started to walk down the row that the i8 BMW and the Porsche D2 were parked on. There was a lot of noise coming from the i8 BMW and the vehicle had also been bouncing around rather crazily; Bile hadn't liked the idea of entertaining his date in the car that was beside the one that his younger brother was conducting his own "important business" in so he asked his date if she had a car or if she knew of a car that they could use that was in the lot.

"Yeah, my Chevvie Sonic is three rows from this one." Amaline replied.

"What does it look like?" Bile had smiled a pretty wide smile after asking that.

"It's purple," Amaline repleid. Bile gave her a strange look. "It also has four doors, a skylight, and two exhaust pipes in the back."

"Lead me to it madame," Bile said. They walked by the i8 BMW quickly and quietly afterwards, so Lhaklar and his date weren't disturbed.

It was about thirty-five minutes later when Lhaklar and Dorle's date ended. A pretty winded and sweaty Dorle was sitting beside a rather exhausted, but quite happy, Lhaklar when Cheshire Ubalki walked into the parking lot. They sat in the back of the car, saying nothing to one another, for a few minutes before Dorle started the process of collecting the clothing that she had worn before they decided to do the rest of their date in the vehicle's back seat. Dorle had just started to re-dress herself when Cheshire started down the row that the i8 BMW was parked on. Except for the clothes that Dorle was fussing over, the car was silent; nothing was said between the two of them for another minute.

"You have no idea how much I needed that," Lhaklar said. The only thing that he had on his body was a pair of gray-green briefs. The pair of brown pants, that he put on that morning, were by his ankles. He was sitting on his multi green striped, long sleeve, button down shirt. His brown shoes and socks were by his feet. "Been almost a year since I've had any sort of female company."

"Sometimes them long waits are well worth it," Dorle returned. She ran her hand up Lhaklar's left arm affectionately before going back to putting her clothes on. "Been a while for me as well. Things at home and at work have kept me pretty busy."

"Same here," Lhaklar said. He, all of a sudden, had a need for a smoke. He pulled his shirt out from under him then he retrieved his cigarette case from the pocket that was in it. After he took one of the Black Devils cigarettes out from the case, he held the case out to Dorle. She responded by shaking her head.

"Thanks. You're too kind, but I don't smoke." Dorle said. "People think I'm weird about that. I drink but I don't smoke."

"The people who think you're weird are actually the weird ones," Lhaklar said. He lit his cigarette by making a tiny flame appear on the suction cup that was on the tip of the index finger of his left hand. He took a drag from the cigarette then leaned back. "There's plenty of people out there who drink but don't smoke and there's plenty of people who smoke but don't drink."

"That's what I say but they still think I'm weird." Dorle said. "How much control do you have of your powers? It seems that you made that small flame appear on the tip of your finger with no effort at all."

"My mother trained me very well. I have good control of my powers." Lhaklar replied. He put the end of the Black Devil cigarette in his mouth then he started to put his clothes on.

Lhaklar slid his shirt around himself then bent down to grab his pants; his action of doing that caused him to be missed by Cheshire, who was just now walking by the i8 BMW. All Cheshire saw was a woman, who had dark blonde hair, that looked to be a mess, in the back of the car. He walked on by. Lhaklar half-stood in the car to pull his pants up a few seconds later then, after he had his pants on, he bent down to put his socks and then his shoes on. A few minutes later, when he decided to exit the i8 BMW for a little fresh air, he did so with his shirt left unbuttoned and untucked. Dorle got out of the car after he did; she walked around to the side of the car that he was on then she wrapped her arm around his waist. He responded by putting his arm around her shoulders. Dorle was wearing a red blouse; the pair of blue jeans, that were on her lower half, had pink dyed patches on the legs; there was a pair of red tennis shoes on her feet.

She had actually just gotten through telling a man to scram when he came upon her; Lhaklar was a sport in giving her a little assistance in sending the man that was giving her grief away. The man that she was having problems with was her own cousin, who had one too many drinks. After helping her get rid of her inebriated cousin, he asked if she wanted a little friendly, non-drunk, company. Along with saying that he was too kind, she said that she wanted to be alone for a little while. His response was to say okay, then to give his head a nod; he went to the nearby Ring Toss game booth after doing that. She had followed him for some reason so, he had gotten the crazy idea of winning her a prize. Just to lift her mood up a little. The winning of a rather large, stuffed cat toy had been the start to his asking her for a date; the date happened after he took her to one of the coffee tents for a non-alcoholic coffee. He listened as she talked. She talked about how her cousin had forced her to come to the fair, and she also talked about how her cousin had just insisted on their spending nearly all of their time at the fair drinking beer.

Dorle's cousin had insulted her a lot during the two hours that they were at the fair and he had also hit her. Twice. After letting her talk and vent out her trouble for all of fifteen minutes, he started talking. He gave her some comforting words, had told her that she was pretty and smart, then he told her a little about himself before finally deciding to shut his trap. The walk out to the parking lot was done five minutes later; they started doing their thing in the front passenger seat of the i8 BMW soon after.

"Seems that with each passing year the moon gets closer to our planet." Dorle said. "Is it true that it's just an illusion?"

"Sometimes. It's sometimes an illusion." Lhaklar replied. He walked around to the tail-end of the i8 BMW. He jumped up, onto the trunk then leaned back. "Other times, it's the planet's gravitational pull. The gravity that this planet generates pulls the moon in a little closer."

"Wouldn't the moon being closer to our planet create trouble with how the tides work?" Dorle asked as she joined Lhaklar on the trunk of the car. Lhaklar sat up; he helped her get situated on the car's trunk before leaning back.

"No, doesn't really cause anything bad to happen. Only thing it does is make for a more romantic or peaceful moment." Lhaklar replied. He took a drag from his cigarette then blew out a jet of gray smoke.

"Wish the stars were out," Dorle said. "The moon seems so lonely in that sky."

"At this location, it _is_ lonely. The fair's lights are making it too bright out for the stars to make an appearance." Lhaklar explained.

"Are your bruders as smart as you?" Dorle asked. "You seem right smart, how old are you again?"

"My brothers are rather intelligent; we don't go around acting like we're know-it-all's but, we are all right smart." Lhaklar replied. "I'm two thousand, one hundred, and one years old."

"How old is that in human years? That seems _so_ old and yet you look _so_ young!" Dorle said in shock.

"Twenty-one," Lhaklar lied. In alien-terms, he and his brothers were all in their mid-teenage years.

"How many bruders do you have again?" Dorle asked.

"Four," Lhaklar replied. He turned his head when he saw that Bile was getting out of a purple Chevrolet, that was three rows from him. "The big guy that's getting out of the purple car three rows from us happens to be one of them."

"I honestly didn't think I'd ever get the chance to see one of my planet's heroine's sons much less speak or spend time with one of them," Dorle said. She glanced over at Bile then snuggled up against Lhaklar. Lhaklar responded by wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Bile's his name, right?"

"Mhmmm," Lhaklar nodded his head as he took another drag from his cigarette. "He's a hundred years older than me."

"You make me feel so young whenever I hear how old you and your bruders are." Dorle said. "I'm only twenty-three and, yet, here I am with someone in his thousands."

It might not of been the longest time that he had spent with a woman but he and his date both agreed that they had fun after they got into the four-door, purple Chevrolet Sonic. Bile felt only a tinge of resentment towards his brother; he figured that he couldn't hold any grudges against his brother—Lhaklar would of done the same as he in changing his plans after seeing that one of them was still in the area with his chosen date. Bile put his hand up. He gave a short wave over in his brother's direction then he started to go over to where the i8 BMW was with Amaline. He had only gone two steps before stopping dead in his tracks; his eyes lighted on Cheshire, who had his back turned to him, then he ducked down, beside one of the cars. Bile reached up and grabbed Amaline's arm afterwards. He pulled her down beside him then he held his finger to his lips. Amaline, a German woman who had French blood in her veins, who's hair was so black that it looked blue, and who had dark brown eyes, asked him in a whisper what was wrong and what was going on; when he didn't answer her, she poked her head around the car that she and her date were hiding beside. When she didn't see anything, she looked under the car. The only thing that she saw when she did that was a pair of formal, brown leather shoes, that looked Italian-made, walking slowly across the parking lot.

The parking lot was quiet and still, which seemed strange because she knew that she and her partner had made a lot of noise in the Chevrolet; she also knew that her partner's brother had also been in the parking lot, and that he had also also been making a lot of noise with the lady that he was spending some time with. The parking lot was also dark too; while there were plenty of solar-light poles in the lot, only half of them were on at the moment. At the moment, all she heard was a crunching sound. She knew that this was coming from the parking lot's gravel being walked on. Amaline was about to ask Bile what was going on when she heard someone yell out in surprise.

"What the hell?" one who had a rather low, but strong and powerful-sounding voice, was heard as saying.

"I'm about to ask the same to you," a bass-like, droning voice returned. There was the sound of a struggle; Amaline heard a woman scream then she heard someone running away. "What are you doing smoking, Lhaklar? You know how bad that is for you? Your lungs haven't developed well enough to handle cigarette smoke!"

"Bile," Amaline looked at her partner. Her partner grabbed her hand in his, kissed it, then started to move away from her.

"Stay here," Bile said.

"What's going on?" Amaline asked. She suddenly felt scared. She grabbed Bile around the middle then she started to follow him. "Bile, wh—"

"Ama, please. Stay here. I need to go help my brother." Bile said as he gently pried Amaline's arms from around his waist.

While he hoped that his date would do as he had told her to he had to get moving and he had to do so now. Bile duck-walked around the cars that were on the row. He poked his head up from time to time to see what was going on then he ducked his head back down so he wouldn't be seen. Lhaklar was struggling in Cheshire's arms. He was fighting, and he was trying to get away, but his adversary had more control of his balance, was stronger and older than he, and he was also mad, so he wasn't able to get away. Cheshire had an iron grip going on with Lhaklar. His left hand was wrapped around Lhaklar's right wrist—he'd periodically yank Lhaklar back to standing before him when his brother tried to either back away or run off. When Lhaklar lunged forward, then tried to push the man that was his grandfather back, he received a shock when the man stepped out of the way. Cheshire released his grandson's wrist after he stepped out of the way. The top of Lhaklar's skull collided with the bumper of a car a second later; that made Lhaklar yell out in pain, and become disorientated. Cheshire grabbed Lhaklar's wrist again; he yanked him back to his feet. Bile had just reached the row that his younger brother was on when Cheshire swung his fist at his brother after he lunged at him again. Lhaklar groaned loudly then doubled over; he wrapped his arm around his stomach, just above the abdomen, then dropped his head low.

"Where in the Universe did you get this?" Cheshire asked in sudden alarm. He walked over to his grandson then reached his hand out. He ran his hand over the four and a quarter inch long gash, that was on the right side of his grandson's head, that he had just noticed. He had just enough time to see that the area that was around the gash was a dark green color before his grandson jerked his head away from his touch. The first thing that ran through Cheshire's head, after his grandson moved away from him, was that the wound was still tender and sore. "What in blue blazes have you been getting into, Lhakie? I come here and find you smoking and with a female. I find you with your shirt untucked and unbuttoned and I also find that you've got an injury to your head that... When did you get that gash? What gave you that gash, Lhaklar?"

He was still temporarily off balance, so he couldn't get to his feet and then run away from the man that ran up from seemingly out of nowhere to put an end to what he thought was a fine and dandy sort of night. Lhaklar shook his head; the area that was around the gash, that he received during the October 2 earthquake, was throbbing like hell and he gave most of the thanks for that throbbing sensation towards his grandfather.

He could hear well. He could speak, but he preferred to not do so. The gash that was on the right side of his head was received after his head crashed up against the lip of the stage that he was dancing on at the Die Heiß und Hastig strip club. He had managed to get up after falling over but he hadn't been able to stay on his feet—the ground was shaking too much for that to happen.

The bruises that he received on his chest, stomach, and ribs had all come from the tables and counter-tops that he ran into after the earthquake ended. After seeing that he wasn't able to teleport home, he collected his clothes then started running; he ran into nearly all of the tables and the two or three counter-tops that flanked the aisle that the stage that he was dancing on while doing so, which was funny, since no one else in the club was doing that. Lhaklar shook his head; he was trying to get rid of the pain that he was feeling when he felt a hand wrap around the deltoid muscle that was on his right arm. Lhaklar allowed for the man that was his grandfather to pick him up from the gravel-filled parking lot then, after he on his feet, he kicked his leg out. Cheshire yelled when a pillar of Earth shot up from under his feet. Cheshire flew up twenty feet. When he collided with the ground, he started to breathe heavily. Cheshire was trying to get to his feet when Bile appeared beside Lhaklar, who was having a rather difficult time in staying on his feet.

"You okay?" Bile asked. As if in answer, Lhaklar doubled over. Bile grabbed his brother around the middle to keep him on his feet; he stared in shock as Lhaklar started to spit up blood. "Oh shit!"

"No offense, Bile," Lhaklar said weakly. "I don't know what color your shit is but mine always comes out looking brown. What came out of my mouth is a bluish color so it must be blood instead of sh—"

"Thanks for that highly valuable and disgusting insight to the colors of your bowel movements." Bile said. Although he was disgusted, he was struggling to not laugh at his brother's words. Bile helped his brother to stand up straight then he looked up. Cheshire had recovered and it looked like he was coming right for them. "Stay beside the i8 will you, let me deal with him."

"Have fun," Lhaklar said. He collapsed beside the i8 BMW after Bile moved off to intercept Cheshire.

He had only to look at the furious light that was in Bile's glowing, yellow-green eyes to know that he was in for some trouble and, honestly, when he told TazirVile later on about the encounter, he would be saying that he deserved that gained trouble—he'd also be doing plenty of apologizing for his actions. He hadn't meant to act or be so rough with Lhaklar. After seeing that Lhaklar was nearby, he grew excited—seeing Lhaklar as lying on the trunk of a car, with a female lying right beside him, and seeing Lhaklar with a cigarette, and with his shirt untucked, had caused that excitement to turn to frustration and concern. The frustration and concern that he felt had coupled with the sudden influence of annoyance and anger after he caught the whiff of alcohol on Lhaklar, and when Lhaklar started to struggle and then fight him after he grabbed him from the car.

The girl that was with Lhaklar ran off, screaming her fool head off in panic, after he grabbed his grandson. He didn't blame her none. If he was born a female, and if it was he in the girl's shoes, he would of done the same thing. Probably. He was with Tazir when Qeeta put in the call about Hazaar. He already knew about Hazaar being injured; he didn't know anything about Lhaklar being injured too.

He had seen injuries like that of what Lhaklar had on his head before; they were nasty ones and, unless Lhaklar fell on something that was pretty sharp, or unless something fell on him that was heavy, head-gashes like the one that Lhaklar had usually came from fights. He hadn't meant to put so much oomph into his punch—he had only been trying to get Lhaklar under control and the only thing that came to his mind at the time was to temporarily cripple him by punching him in the stomach. Lhaklar had just gotten through bashing his injured head on the bumper of a car for crying out loud so he should not of swung at him! His follow-up action, after picking Lhaklar up and then having Lhaklar lung at him, was horrible! Cheshire stopped when there were three cars between him and Bile and Lhaklar. He stared at Bile for a few seconds then he chanced a look at Lhaklar, who was lying on his back on the gravel next to the car that he had plucked him from.

"Bile..." Cheshire said. His voice was calm and collected. He held his hands out to show that he had nothing in them with which to harm anyone with. "It's been a while."

He didn't know of anything else to say. He was suddenly stunned to silence after Bile walked into the circle of bright, yellow light that was coming from one of the parking lot's solar-light poles. He had taken notice of Lhaklar's physical condition right after he plucked him from the trunk of the car that he saw him lying on; it looked like Lhaklar had lost between five and ten pounds—for some odd reason, it also looked like he had gained some muscle on his arms.

The four and a quarter inch long gash, that was on the side of Lhaklar's head, was the only injury that he saw on the kid; the rest of him had looked fine.

Bile, on the other hand, looked as if bachelorhood hadn't fazed him any. His body condition looked the same. He had the same muscle mass and he looked to have no injuries on his body. He was walking fine and he wasn't acting like anything on his body was hurting him. Cheshire started to circle around Bile at the exact same time that KurukVile walked into the parking lot. KurukVile took notice of Lhaklar lying on the gravel, then he noticed that Bile was standing a few feet from him. KurukVile took a step forward then stopped; the muscle, that was in his body, grew tense when he saw the shadowy movement to his right. He turned towards it and, to his complete disbelief, he saw nothing but a pair of yellow, slanted lights. They were just ten feet from him.

KurukVile felt a sudden form of terror roll over him as he watched the yellow lights move away from him. They moved in the direction of Bile, Lhaklar, and Cheshire. That caused a chill to roll down his spine. It also caused him to be paralyzed.

"Bile, calm down now." Cheshire said. He had also seen the slightly slanted, yellow lights. At the moment, he was more concerned about Bile and Lhaklar than the lights. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I had no idea that he was injured. You two are my grandsons; I was only acting out of concern and self-defense. I shouldn't of swung at him like I did, I apologize." Bile said nothing in return; he just stood where he was. The youngster watched as he walked around him. Cheshire decided to try to get Bile to calm down by talking about something else that he thought would soothe him. "You and Lhaklar look well for being on your own for so long; Lhaklar looks to of dropped a little weight and, despite the injury that he has to his head, he looks healthy. You both do. Your dad and Eshal miss you two, so does Zanra. You remember Zanra? The puppy that your mother brought back after she went to see Trobrencus? She's gotten big. She sure don't look like a puppy anymore."

"Don't you come another step closer to him!" Bile spat. Cheshire stopped. He stared Bile in the eye for only a second before dropping his gaze to Bile's hands. Bile's hands were in tight fists; them fists had a bright, orange glow to them. Cheshire stared at the orange-glowing fists of his adopted grandson for a second before looking Bile in the eye again.

"Bile, I understand that you're angry with me. I hurt him! I understand that your anger is directed at me because I hurt your brother. I'm not going to hurt neither of you again, okay. I just want to make that clear." Cheshire said. From the corner of his eye, he saw a dark mass walking across the parking lot. He followed that mass for only a second before turning towards it. To his complete surprise, he heard a muffled yell after his energy strike struck the mass. Cheshire yelled in sudden shock a second later, after Bile ran right, smack, into him.

Bile's charge was so unexpected; Cheshire had no time to prepare for it. Cheshire lost half of his breath when Bile slammed into him. He lost the rest when the force of Bile's charge sent them crashing into a parked car.

The alarm system, that was in the car that they landed on, went off. Cheshire didn't hear it. He heard only two things right now: the grunts and groans, that Bile was making, and the sound that Bile's fists were making as they were swung towards him. Bile's fists were now fully engulfed in orange flames—he _was_ swinging these flame-filled fists at him and he _was_ causing sparks to fly from him with them. Using just about all of the strength that was in his body that had yet to be taken from him, Cheshire pushed Bile off him. He stood up; he was gasping for air, he was off-balance, and he was disoriented, but he could see very well. That allowed him to leap out of the way when Bile came at him again; he was so off balanced that, after he leaped out of the way, he fell to the ground. Cheshire worked on regaining his wind back as he rolled away from Bile; he kicked his leg up after his body struck the tire of a nearby car.

The heel of the tailor-made, brown leather shoe, that was on his foot, struck one of Bile's skeletal knees. Bile produced a half-snarl, that was also a half yell, then jumped back after the shoe collided with him.

While Cheshire felt horrible for hurting yet another of his grandchildren, he knew that he hadn't kicked out with ill-intentions. His action in kicking his grandson had only been done in self-defense. Cheshire took advantage of the time that was available to him to grab the undercarriage of the car that was behind him. He pulled himself under the car with all of his strength; the gravel, that was under him, went down the collar of his shirt and down the back of his pants as he pulled himself under the vehicle. He had only just finished pulling himself under the car when the gravel started to fly up and then around him. The dust that was around him was thick. The gravel cut his face. It ripped into his clothing. He snapped his eyes shut to keep the gravel from cutting them then he waited for his breath to return to him. When he started to cough and wheeze and gag, he decided that enough was enough. He reached for the side of the car that he hoped was away from Bile then he pulled himself out from under the car.

Bile, after seeing the man that hurt not one but two of his younger brothers come out from under the car, leaped onto the roof of the car that Cheshire was under. He roared something incoherently at Cheshire as he shot his arms out; a gust of red-hot, heated air blew Cheshire back ten feet a short half-second later. Cheshire only just managed to stay on his feet; he leaped out of Bile's attack then he swung his fist at the youngster. There was a loud zapping sound as a large, electrical charge flew out from his first. It sizzled towards Bile, who saw it a half-second too late. Cheshire winced when he heard Bile yell in pain. Bile was flung from the roof of the car; despite his hard landing, he didn't stay down for long. He rolled over, got to his feet, then threw a purple energy beam at Cheshire, who ducked to avoid it.

Cheshire ran forward. He dodged several energy balls and strands then, when he reached Bile, he slid to a stop. He kicked Bile's feet out from under him then he tied Bile's legs up with his own. Bile growled angrily then rolled over; he managed to free himself from Cheshire then, after getting free, he performed a handstand. He kicked two blasts of white fire out. Cheshire responded by holding his hands out; he felt the suction cups, that were on the tips of his fingers, burn and he felt his palms screaming in pain but his face was kept safe. He was damn glad for that!

Just as Cheshire was lowering his hands from his face, the ground, that was under Bile's feet, flipped. Bile disappeared; the parking lot went silent. Cheshire stood where he was for a few seconds before looking to the left. He had seen movement come from that direction.

"You're _sure_ a lot of help!" Cheshire shouted at KurukVile as he ran past him. He had seen Lhaklar running off with Bile trailing behind him; Cheshire wasn't sure of what all he had seen but, he was pretty sure that there was another person running in front of Lhaklar. He was also pretty sure that Lhaklar had Bile by the arm. KurukVile's paralysis broke at just that moment. He ran off in pursuit of Cheshire. When he caught up to Cheshire, he grabbed and then threw him against a concrete wall.

"You...!" KurukVile said. At the moment, he could only say that. He was still in shock over what he had seen.

"Let _go_ of _me_ you _fool_!" Cheshire barked.

" _Who_ was it that you fired at?"KurukVile spat. When Cheshire began to struggle, KurukVile swung his fist low. Cheshire's breath started coming out in whistles after his fist collided with his gut. "Who was he? The dark dude that you fired at before Bile—"

"What d-dark du—" Cheshire sputtered. KurukVile dropped him then raced off in the direction that Bile, Lhaklar, and the fellow that he had only been able to see for a little under twenty seconds had gone in.

Bile ripped his arm right out from Lhaklar's hand then put the brakes on. Lhaklar ran on for a short distance before stopping and then turning around while Guyunis ran on for ten more seconds before doing the same. While Bile's left skeletal knee was unharmed, there was a bleeding cut to his shin; the edge of Cheshire's tailor-made, brown leather shoe had cut it open, and the fall that Bile had taken after Cheshire's electrical charge struck him had opened it up even more. Bile gave Lhaklar a good, long stare before throwing his arms up; he uttered a sound that was half a sigh, half a growl, and half a cry then he started towards his brother. He didn't hesitate to grab or turn Lhaklar around when he reached him. He gave Lhaklar a big shove forward; Lhaklar moved on without saying a thing. When Bile reached Guyunis, he tried to do the same thing. Guyunis shoved him back twice then he stood his ground after he was shoved again for a third time; Bile stared at him for only a second before lunging at him. He grabbed Guyunis by his shoulder then he whipped him around.

"Move your feet forward," Bile said angrily. "Fair's over—time to return to ma!"

"Quit pushin-k-g me!" Guyunis snapped.

"Walk and I will," Bile spat. When Guyunis stopped and then turned to look at him, Bile produced a low, yet very audible, growl. "I'm the oldest here, you—"

"I know tha-k-t. Doesn't mean that you have the righ-k-t to be mean to me, or shove me around." Guyunis said as KurukVile ran into view.

" _Move_ , Numbskull!" Bile nearly shouted. KurukVile's slide-like stop was so fierce that gravel and dust flew out from behind him. Guyunis backed away from Bile slowly then turned and walked off, towards Lhaklar, who was waiting just ten feet from him. KurukVile stood and stared in dumb shock as Bile, Lhaklar, and the fellow that he had just heard Bile call Numbskull walked away.


	22. Chapter 22

All things considered, he thought that his morning went very well.

He was aroused from a nice sleep at the usual time—around dawn—by Eruce and Machub, his two dogs. Eruce and Machub's breakfast was made first then he made his own—which consisted of plain steamed onions. He ate his breakfast then he went to his living room, where he caught the tail-end of the report that was airing for that day's weather; most of the plans that he made for that day were blown after he caught that tail-end weather report. According to the weather people, a series of rather bad storms had crossed over the mountains, that were south of his location.

All matter of thunder, lightning, rain, and hail was said to be involved with this storm and this storm was also said to harbor near 60 MPH winds; with such a storm coming his way, there was no way that he could repair the fence that was in front of his property. He was forced to put repairing the fence, that was busted to bits by the fool, who decided to take a little drive around his neighborhood after consuming four or five too many heavy drinks, on hold for another day.

After catching that tail-end weather report, he went outside to see how bad it really was. One look was enough to tell him that it was going to be worse than the weather people had forecast and, for some odd reason, he had felt an odd, tense feeling fall over him after he took in what was going on outside of his home.

While he had seen the sky look dangerous before, the sky earlier had looked even more so. He had nearly had to check the clock, that was in his home, after stepping out—it was so dark out... the sky was pitch black and there were dark green clouds drifting from left to right in it a little too quickly for his comfort zone. The air had a very electric feeling to it that made his flesh curl; the scent of rain was heavy; and the wind was already pretty bad. He'd normally let Eruce and Machub out for their morning run after breakfast; he made the decision to not do so on this morning. Thankfully, they hadn't had an interest in going out either, which was a huge relief for him. No dogs to call in or to worry about if they didn't come in when the weather took a turn for the worse; the only thing that he had to worry about was getting his motorcycle in, so it wouldn't be messed up by the storm. After getting his bike under his small garage's roof, he did a quick walk along the busted fence that was in front of his cottage home.

"Bastard did a number on it," he said after taking in the mangled mess of his front, chain-link fence. The fence that ran along the front of his property was wrecked four days prior; he wasn't able to repair it for a number of reasons: work, heading to town for his monthly groceries and supplies, and the pick-up of several fliers that were advertising the upcoming fishing and hunting tournaments, hunting down that no-good snake that came close to sending Eruce, his oldest dog, who also happened to be the sire of his younger dog, to that big cloud where all dogs went after they took their last breaths, and, of course, plain laziness. He picked nearly a bucketful of chain parts up from the ground then he lugged the fence posts to his garage before going inside, where he did nothing but sit and listen to the storm as it had waged war against the outer walls of his residence.

If he was told to be on the look-out for a visitor, he would of done more than make plain, old coffee. He would of put a few drinks in the fridge and he would of also made some fish bacon strips. If he was told to be on the look-out for a potentially violent visitor, that was also of blood-relation to him, he would of readied himself for a fight. Since no call was placed to give him ample warning about some visitor's arrival he hadn't been ready; he had just gone by his usual, storm-related routine of just sitting on the couch, with his eyes near glued to his tv—which was actually a big, dark screen, that had a red, pulsating border.

When the doorbell—a round, embossed piece that he actually snagged from his parents' house before he left to establish his own place and gain a little bit of adult-related freedom—went off, he got up from the couch. He stretched then he wondered who the fool that came out in this weather was.

He left his living room; his dogs went crazy after the doorbell was rung. He sent them upstairs then he opened the door. His shock over seeing his own father standing on the door's other side was phenomenal—his father was on Earth, looking for Angel and her sons, the last he had heard from him. Why his father was on Gamma Vile was beyond him, and why his father came to see him without calling first was even more beyond him. His father, without fail, always called before coming over. His mother sometimes came over without calling first but his father always called before coming over. He did the only thing that he saw fit to do in the situation that landed on his lap; he let his father in then he took his drenched, light brown, dry-waxed canvas field coat. He put his father's coat in the closet, that was on the hallway that came from his residence's front door, then he turned around to find himself alone in the hallway. After spending a minute and a half in the hallway, he went into his living room; a hunch had told him that his father was in that room and that hunch was fully correct as that was where he found him.

The rest of his morning, from 9:35 onwards, went downhill after he located his father.

"Something going on that I should know about? You usually call before coming over." Triskull said after locating his father. His dry, and usually throatish-sounding voice, had a nervous waver in it that he was quick to identify. A rather loud thunderclap sounded at the same time that his father was turning towards him; one of the dogs that he sent upstairs whined after the thunderclap sounded.

"I take it that you put your dogs in the kitchen." his father said in his usual low, croaky voice.

"No," Triskull replied. "Told 'em to go upstairs."

"In a room?"

"No, the doors to the upstairs rooms are all open. They've got free roam here, like usual. The storm's got them all freaked out, that's why they're up th—"

KurukVile pounced at his son almost like a tiger would pounce on its prey; his son did his best to dodge to the right then, when he tried to run to the left, he found his own feet betraying him. He fell to the floor hard; his father grabbed him by the shoulders then he ripped him around, so he was looking up, towards the living room ceiling. While KurukVile would swear later on that he hadn't released all of his anger on his son he would admit that he had allowed for the valve that was on the side of his anger tank to release just a bit; as he saw it, he had a right in being angry towards his son—the thirty-five hours that followed his leaving the fair that his younger, half-brother had dragged him to hadn't been kind to him at all. He had hardly slept in the last thirty-five hours and he hadn't eaten a single thing since he returned to his camp, that was back on Earth.

He had pretty much had the wind knocked out of him after he heard Bile call that dark-skinned fellow Numbskull. He hadn't been able to do a damn thing after his young grandson called that unknown guy that name. He had either sat or stood in the shadows for two hours. The fair that his brother had dragged him to had come to a crash-halt right after Tazir and Qeeta came upon Hazaar; they had caused so much unwanted attention and excitement that all of the fair officials had decided to close the fair due to safety reasons. A siren was sounded about ten minutes after he heard Bile call that darkly skinned fellow Numbskull; about two minutes after the siren was sounded, a human had rode by him on a solar-powered motorcycle. Twice. The human had relayed a message to the fair's patrons via a megaphone that the fair wasn't safe and that everyone needed to vacate the fairgrounds quickly. The fairgrounds was nearly empty of humans fifteen minutes later; the fair went very quiet and still and it had also taken on a sort of spooky feeling after the siren was sounded and after the call for the fair's patrons to vacate the area was made. He did nothing but stand in the shadows afterwards. He had only moved after his brother made the call for everyone to re-group.

That little re-grouping thing went over real well; he made damn sure to freak more than just the two pigeons that worked for his brother. He freaked just about every damn human that was around the area, where their little re-grouping thing happened in. He reached the rendezvous point first; he was quiet all while waiting in the shadows then, after his brother and his two stool-pigeons stepped into view, he charged. He grabbed his brother by the lapels of his tuxedo jacket then he slammed him none-too-kindly against the side of one area's portable buildings; his brother had just held one of his hands out to the side. He hadn't put up any struggles, nor had he fought him. He just gave his two staff members the signal to stand back—which they did; while he would of had no problem in grabbing and then throwing them to the side, he was glad that he only had his brother to contend with.

"You...!" he said after throwing his brother against the building. Zshon, one of the two Goblins that accompanied them on the trek to the fair, had taken one step towards them before stopping; the other Goblin had grabbed him by the wrist after his brother held his hand out towards them. While he kept most of his attention focused on Tazir he had also had the corner of his eye trained on the two Goblins.

"Brother," his brother responded.

"The jig is up!" he said with a furious growl. "You've been leading me on a leash for too damn long! You know something, you wanted me to see it... or him, and I have, now you spill what you know."

"Fair enough, Kuruk." his brother said right when the solar-powered light pole, that was to their left, flickered on. The emptiness of the fair was shown to them for only a second before the light dissipated; the older of the two Goblins, the one who grabbed Zshon after Zshon took a step towards them, released his companion after his companion calmed down after seeing that he wasn't causing any harm to his employer.

There were a total of six humans either in or around the area where they did their little re-grouping thing in; they all run off, screaming in terror, after he charged at his brother after his brother stepped out from the shadows. The two Goblins had actually jumped back after he charged out from his hiding spot; after jumping back, they reached down to their belt-lines for, what he presumed, a gun that was holstered on their persons.

No guns, or any other sort of weaponry, was pulled out from their persons; they had just stood and watched as their employer relayed all of what he knew and all that he had kept from him to him. He had really had to reel himself in after Tazir relayed all of what he knew about the dark-skinned fellow that he saw in the parking lot. He really should of broke his brother's neck... he should of made it possible for his brother to not have an easy go in making further offspring... he should of put his younger, half-brother in the hospital but, with quite a lot of effort on his part, that should of, along with all of the other should of's, hadn't been allowed to happen. Instead of hurting his brother, he just set him down. He turned then left the area afterwards. He went back to his camp, then he went into his ship, then he shut all communication channels down; he stood where he was, before all of the little buttons and wires and controls that were in the small room that was under his ship's cockpit, for a long time before moving off.

After standing where he was, with his fists tightly clinched, he turned then left the room, and then cockpit. He went straight to the chamber in his ship that he and his wife had shared for nearly a month. While on his way there, he bumped into his lovely wife, who had obviously just gotten through checking on their children, who had just gone to bed for the night.

His wife had grown concerned after she took one look at his angry, yet thoughtful, yet half scared, face then she asked him if he was feeling alright or not. He replied by saying that he was fine then he said that he was tired and that he was going to bed. He had kindly asked for her to not bother him afterwards.

Since the children were all in bed at the time, he hadn't had to sneak away from them; just asking his lovely wife to leave him alone had hurt—he couldn't imagine having to do the same with Baruk, Kaasa, and Sudir and he couldn't imagine the shame he would feel later on if he actually had to sneak away from them either. After reaching the bedroom that he and his wife had shared for nearly a month, he did nothing but sit and think... and grow angrier with each passing thought that crossed his mind. By the time he decided to slip under the covers, that were on the bed, that was in the chamber, he was near to exploding. Having his wife slip into bed beside him shortly after he got in it was nice—as always, he had relished in having her so close to him and in having her nice, petite body press up against his muscled bulk. Sadly, her nice, sweet body, and her soothing presence, hadn't been enough to down the anger that he felt on that night. He hadn't slept very well on that night and he had it all to thank on a certain younger half-brother, who had a rather surprising secret that he decided to keep all to himself.

He hated it when members of his family—or members of the governments, that were on the planets, that were under his control—held information from him. If information of some something was important then it needed to be told to him. He didn't need to be led around like a dog and he didn't need any head-games being played on or done to him when important information was known. Cheshire Ubalki had looked a mess when they did their little re-grouping thing. Along with having to fight Bile, he also had to contend with him—Mr. Ubalki had probably been puking or pissing blood for a few hours after he got back to camp; from what he was told a few hours after he returned to his camp, a small area of his brother's stomach was discovered as being black and blue after he returned to his camp... and Qeeta, his dear younger, half-sister, had a bullet-wound to her lower left leg.

After a single night went by, he placed a call to his father. He told his father everything of what happened, including the bullet-wound that Qeeta received on her lower left leg, then he told the man about the dark-skinned fellow that he saw. His father was pretty mad by the time he started talking about the guy then, when he started to give him a general description of what the guy looked like, he went into an eerie silence. His father had asked for proof of what he saw then he hung his end of the phone up after hearing his general description; he did just that—a call to a sketch artist was made, then the description that he gave to his father was repeated, then he hung up. A brown folder, with the sketch artist's drawing of what he saw, was sent to his fortress home a few hours later; he went home to look at it then he called his father to tell him to be on the look-out for a manila envelope that had the drawing of what he saw in it. He sent the drawing to his father via a spell then he checked the news, and then the weather. He grabbed the keys to his G-7 Sport after he saw the weather.

The only ones in his family who knew of the dark-skinned fellow's existence were he, Tazir, and maybe Qeeta. Some of Tazir's staff probably knew of the guy's existence, and maybe even the Ubalki's and Eshal knew about the guy; up to his being dragged to the fair, he hadn't known a thing about him. Irka, his dear wife, hadn't a clue as to what he saw at the fair. He had yet to tell her what happened... yet; the keyword of that morning. He had yet to tell her about the dark-skinned fellow. She would find out about him soon; he had plans to tell her what he saw and on what his brother had kept from him. He was still angry over the fact that a leash was thrown around his neck. Tazir had led him to that fair like a dog; he had a pretty damn good feeling that everyone that was in his younger, half-brother's camp knew about the dark-skinned fellow.

"The forecast for our area will be quite different than what it was yesterday," the weather forecaster said on the tube a little over an hour and a half ago. "Instead of mild winds, but good, sunny weather, the areas that lie within a six to eight hour radius of the Vershol District will be treated to thunderstorms for most of the day. Our galaxy's spheres will not make an appearance until five o'clock in them areas; most of today's thunderstorm activity will be experienced in and around the Vershol district area."

He didn't go out to see how bad it really was; he just grabbed the keys to his vehicle then drove out of the garage. He neither looked at the sky nor worried about what all he was driving towards; he left his fortress home at 7:15, thirty-three hours after he returned to his camp after seeing what he did at the fair that he was dragged to. Normally, the landscape would of been lit up with early-morning light at 7:15; on this past early-morning, the landscape that was in front of, to either side, and behind him had nearly been as black as night. The high, smooth, and glass-like mountains, that were on his left, were a dark purple silhouette against a nearly black sky; the pebbled hills, that were scattered here and there on either side of the yellow-colored road, that he drove on, had glistened almost to insanity with the moisture that was on them; and the normal, green grasses and the poisonous, purple grasses, that were growing in short patches in some places and that were rather high and lush in others, were blowing to and fro maniacally in the wind that was coming from the oncoming storm.

The dark green clouds that dotted the near pitch-black sky had periodically moved away to expose one of the three spheres that all of the planets that were in his home and birth galaxy orbited; normally, there'd be a light gray sphere, a light green sphere, and a sphere that was a mixture of silver and light yellow hovering in the early-morning sky. All of them spheres were missing when he started his drive towards the district that his son lived in and, according to the weather report that he watched, they would be missing for most of the day before finally making a short appearance near the end of the day. With bad storms being forecast for most of the day where he was going, he had expected for the roads to be free of traffic and he had also expected for the children to be kept indoors; no parent would allow for their offspring to go out in bad weather and there were probably very few adults willing to even step out on their porches after the storm started blowing in. His expectations had proved very correct while on that drive; he wasn't slowed up, he saw no children playing out in their parents' or guardians' yards, and there were no adults sitting out on porches or in the chairs that were set out on their lawns.

He hadn't really been paying any attention to the storm that he was driving towards; his attentions were claimed by his driving and towards his son. The yellow road that he was driving on was quite slick with rain of the most poisonous kind; thanks to the spheres' heavily radiated early-morning rays, the acidic rain that fell on the planet, that he was born and raised on, and that he chose to reside and raise his family on, between five a.m. to eight a.m. had become even more acidic. His car had nearly a dozen, small, round areas on it from where the acid rain had burned through the first two layers of metal; the car's tires had very nearly lost traction with the road twice but, after veering over to the road's two shoulders, to let them get some dirt on their rubbers, he had managed to keep control.

His arrival home happened a little under two hours ago for one reason and one reason only: to pick up the drawing that the artist had made for him. After sending the drawing to his father, he decided to take care of a little matter that had troubled him over the years. No calls were made to the number that belonged to the person that he decided to visit, and no word to either his staff or to any in his family was made on why he was going home or on who he was planning on visiting. His wife had asked him that morning, after he got up earlier than usual, then made as to leave the ship, where he was going; along with being vague with her, he gave her a kiss on the cheek then said that she'd know what he knew shortly.

She was concerned and he knew it and she had a right to be, but it wasn't he that his lovely wife should be concerned about. His wife's concern should be directed towards their secondborn son, who not only lived in the stormy Vershol District, that was four districts from the one that he, his wife, and their current young children lived in, but who was currently pinned underneath him.

"Pop... Pop!" Triskull was yelling almost in his face; after pushing his son to the floor, he placed his knee on one of the pressure points that were on his body. His action of placing his knee on one of his son's pressure points wasn't intended to hurt his son—he just wanted him to lie still. His action did the trick almost to perfection.

A drive to the Vershol District would normally take three hours; he made it in a little under two. He was planning on making good on the time that he was forced to take out from looking for his granddaughter, grandson, and nephews because of the situation that had so un-kindly landed on his lap that Tazir had known about but hadn't let him in on and that his secondborn son could well of caused—meaning, the existence of the dark-skinned fellow that Bile called Numbskull.

He pounced at his son at the same time that he was comparing him to the fellow that he saw at the fair. His son stood approximately six foot, two and a half inches; he had a lean body build that had a good amount of muscle on it. The chest, arms, and legs held most of the muscle that was on his body while his backside had some decent muscle on it. His son had a triangular-shaped head from which two, darkly-colored, elongated ears sprouted from; along with going the entire length of his shoulders, they had a single, dingy white skull on their ends. The eyes that stared out from his son's face were a glowing, golden-yellow color; there were small, black pupils in their centers. His son's mouth had a set of sharp, white teeth in it. The slightly ringed horns, that were on his son's head, were gray in color; they swept back gracefully.

His son, who he had once bounced on his knee, and who he had once comforted when he grew fearful of storms like the one that was currently raging outside, had a yellow spiked collar around his neck from which a chain ran down from. The chain connected to a dark blue belt, that was around a pair of blue jeans. The jeans had holes and tears in the knees and legs. His son had no shirt on; his wrists and ankles had yellow spiked guards on them. The pair of wings, that were on the back of his son's shoulders, weren't a wardrobe piece—they were on the back of his son's shoulders since birth and they had always had red webbing on them. The rips and tears, that were on them, had always been there. Why his son was born with them was beyond him; his son's wings did nothing to make him look menacing and they didn't give him the ability to fly either.

Vile, his oldest son, and Triskull's older brother, had a lot of intelligence and experience in his eyes; the eyes, that were in his secondborn son's face, may resemble Vile's but they lacked what Vile's did—it was quite apparent, just from looking at Triskull's eyes, that he wasn't as experienced or as intelligent as his brother was. The scar, that was over his son's left eye, was an old one, as were the ones that crisscrossed his chest and the deep one that went around his neck. These had all come from Trakeena, the woman that his son teamed-up with some time ago. From what his son had told him, the woman had roughed him up after she was defeated by the human defenders of Earth, who were around some two thousand or so years ago. His son was real lucky to be alive—he did thank the Gods that the woman, who tried to claim his son's life, hadn't been successful in doing so.

He applied some more pressure to the spot that his knee was on when he son started to struggle again. When he son stopping struggling, he dug deep within himself for what little he was allowed to see of the dark-skinned fellow that he saw at the fair.

"By the Gods—they look nearly identical!" he nearly said aloud.

The dark-skinned fellow, that he had a brief sighting of, had looked to have a very dark skin complexion—the dude either had real dark blue or black skin; just like his own son, who had a real dark blue skin complexion. The fellow had slightly slanted, glowing yellow eyes, and he had a rather strongly built body, with ample amounts of muscle on the arms, legs, back, chest, and stomach. Shit, if he had to judge his height, he'd have say that he was over six foot, two. He wasn't able to see the fellow's face, and he wasn't able to see if he had any horns on his head, and he wasn't able to see what the guy was wearing—he was fast in leaving the circle of light, that was produced by one of the parking lot's solar-light poles, that he stepped in after Cheshire Ubalki's attack struck him

All he knew for sure was that Bile had called him a name that sounded very similar to that of what he and Irka had given their secondborn son. It was that name, and that name alone, that was the cause of why he was paying his son a visit. If not for that name being used he wouldn't be here, and his son wouldn't be pinned underneath him.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, young man." KurukVile said. He released his son then stood up. Triskull got to his feet quickly; he took one step back then stood still.

"Beg your pardon?" Triskull said. He was pretty confused. This was the third thing that happened that morning to put him in a confused state. First was the fact that his father came over for a visit without calling, the second was his father's rushing at and then pinning him to the floor of his living room, and the third was what his father had just said. "You feeling alright this morning, pop? Did you catch something on Earth? A bug or something that messed with your mind?"

The power blinked on and then off then it blinked off and stayed off for nearly two minutes. When it came back on, the two dogs—his two dogs—, that were upstairs, in one of the bedrooms, came bounding down the stairs whimpering. The younger of his two dogs sidled up beside him; Machub's tail was nearly tucked between his legs and his fur was standing on end. While keeping his eyes on his father, he bent down. He grabbed the thin chain, that was both around his dog's neck and that had all of the dog's information on it, then walked his dog out of the living room then down the hall to the kitchen and dining room area, where his other dog was. He released the chain-collar then he turned around; he shuddered slightly when he saw that his father was standing in the kitchen/dining room doorway.

Thinking fast, Triskull went to the counter that the coffee pot was on. As he pulled a glass cup down from the cabinet that was over the pot, he remembered the main reason for why he had picked the Vershol District to move to.

The idea of moving to the Vershol District wasn't a bad one. He wasn't looking for a place to move to that was far away from his parents—he was looking for a place that clicked well with his interest line-ups. The Vershol District had a large, natural lake in its center, from which a plethora of rivers and creeks flowed from. The poisonous, purple grasses and the normal, green grasses were evenly divided in the district; there was a large forest to the district's far west side. A vast gravel area was set-up for people who liked to ride recreational bikes about ten miles from the town that his residence was closest to.

He was an outdoorsman. He liked doing outdoors-y things—the Vershol District was right up his alley in that interest. The lake, and the rivers and creeks that flowed from the lake, were full of fish; he liked to fish and he was able to do plenty of that over the years in this district. He also liked to hunt—the forest, that sat off to the district's far western side, had plenty of game animals in it that he liked to hunt. A lot of hunting and fishing tournaments happened in and around the Vershol District; he was an active participant of them. While he hadn't liked the idea of moving so far away from his parents he had liked the Vershol District enough to move to it; his parents had grumbled over the distance between them and he but, after a while, they stopped grumbling. They accepted that, while he had moved out from under their roof, he wasn't that far away from them. He liked to believe that it was his older sister that changed their decision on how far he was from them—Dara Dara, or DD, as he, his parents, and his siblings called her, had moved to the Jovishi District, which was a near six-hour drive from his parents' front door. His oldest brother, Vile, had moved to a district that was nearly on the other side of the planet; they couldn't visit his older brother or sister as much as they wanted to. He liked to believe that it was the realization of how short a three-hour drive was in comparison to a six-hour one, or to one that would practically take a week to complete, that calmed their ideals on his being "so far from them". He and they were also frequent talkers on the phone too, so that might have a hand in it as well.

From what he was told, his sister was very rarely able to be reached by phone; Dara Dara was either out with her friends or she was off in her own little world—or, as much as the thought made him want to throw up, she was having too much fun porking some poor sap to take time out to pick up the phone. Due to the hunting and fishing tournaments that he did he was only available to be reached by phone half of the time and Vile... well, he was constantly busy. Vile was the only one out of his parents' adult children to of made a name for himself. To of gone out to become a conqueror. He was kept busy nearly 24/7 by the governments that were in the three galaxies that he had control of.

With the thought of how close he was to his parents' residence still fresh on his mind he filled the glass cup with the coffee that was in the pot; his father usually liked his coffee strong, without any added creams or sugars, so he didn't add anything to what he had just poured. Triskull placed the cup of coffee on the kitchen's rustic, round table, that had three chairs around it, then he went to make himself his own cup of coffee. There was the sound of a chair being pulled out from under the table; the chair creaked ever so slightly when his father sat in it then there was silence. Triskull added a spoonful of creamer into his coffee; he stirred it in with a spoon then he turned around. His father was at the kitchen table; the cup of coffee, that sat before him, looked to of had maybe one or two sips taken from it. For some odd reason, his father's bulging, deep brown leather wallet was on the table; there was a piece of paper, that looked to have some sort of drawing on it, in front of the wallet.

"Sit down, son." his father said. There was no mistaking the emotion that was in his voice. His father's usual low, croaky voice had anger tones singing all throughout it. "I want you to see something then I want an explanation for what you're seeing."

The man was sick; that was the first thing that ran through his mind. The man... his father... one of the two beings in the vast Universe that he was born to, had either caught some bug while on Earth or something had happened to him that had driven him to the brink of insanity. It took Triskull all of two minutes to reach the table; when he pulled the chair, that was opposite the one that his father was sitting in, he did his best to not scuff up the kitchen's hardwood flood. He sat in the chair then he placed his cup of coffee on the table. His father looked at him; his fiery red eyes blazing hot with anger, his chest rising and then falling normally, but his face set angrily. There were a few seconds of chilled silence between the two of them then something happened that made the skin of Triskull's arms grow bumpy. His father reached one of his well-muscled arms forward; he shoved his wallet, and the piece of paper that had the drawing on it, across the table to him. Triskull looked down at the drawing but he didn't pick it up. He slid the wallet across the table to his father, who slapped his hand on it after it reached his side of the table, but he plain refused to touch the piece of paper that had the drawing on it.

"Mad, hell! He's not gone mad or insane! Someone's probably drugged him up or put him under some spell!" Triskull thought frantically. "Someone managed to get by the man who's worth five men put together, oh shit! What do I do? Call the cops? Call a hospital or something? This is my father in front of me but he's not the same! He looks like my father but he's not acting like—"

"Pick it up, Boy." his father said. There was a menacing tone in his voice that made Triskull jump.

When he picked the drawing up, his hands were slightly shaky; as he looked at the drawing that was on the piece of paper, he remembered the conversation that he had with his older brother in August. His brother must of been on something when he called him—Vile knew how he was with the women that he brought home and Vile also knew that he would never touch his daughter. He came very close to crushing the phone after Vile asked him if he had ever had any affairs with Angel. Had he been offended by his older brother's questions on his love life? Had he been offended by his older brother's question of whether or not he had any to-do's with his daughter in the bedroom? Yes on both! He loved Angel, yes, but he would never go so far as to mate with her. Angel was his older brother's daughter and she was also his older brother's—and uncle's—wife for goodness sake! He had needed a good stiff drink after answering his brother's questions—he was pretty badly shaken up after that conversation.

The drawing that was on the piece of paper was of either a man or a rather nicely built teenage male-child. Whoever it was that did the drawing had drawn a very dark person—the face of the being in the drawing was pitch black; and the eyes were a bright glowing yellow, and they were slightly slanted. There were fine lines drawn on the heavily muscled shoulders. The chest was big and well-muscled; them fine lines were also on it. The stomach had a rather impressive six-pack on it. The arms were thickly muscled; them fine lines were also on them. Triskull had seen drawings done by his three younger siblings; his younger siblings couldn't draw anything this good or this finely detailed so the artist behind it was either a professional or a near-professional. There really wasn't anyone in his family that could do a drawing this detailed; Dara Dara could draw decently but she could never draw anything like this. Triskull placed the drawing down, on the table, then looked at his father, who was glaring at him.

"I'm right confused here, can you tell me what's going on please?" Triskull asked his father. "You come here without calling to let me know that you're on your way over; you tackle me to my living room floor, give me a good looking over, then say that I have a lot of explaining to do; then you show me this drawing. What's going on?"

"You tell me—Bile was seen with that dark fellow thirty-five hours ago." his father replied.

"Bile was seen with this... being nearly a day and a half ago?" Triskull looked at the drawing; would his nephew hang out with such a guy? Would Angel let her oldest son hang out with someone that looked like the one that was on the piece of paper?

"Yes, let me start at the beginning now." KurukVile said. He took a sip of his coffee then he started telling his son the tale of what happened in the last thirty-five hours. "Tazir, Qeeta, and Cheshire Ubalki dragged me to a fair on Earth; Tazir had two of his staff go into the shield before us to make a small portion open up so we could go in. His MoHunds led us around for hours; when we reached the fair, all of our horses were exhausted. So were his canines. We split up after we reached that fair; I saw that fellow in the fair's parking lot with Bile..." there was silence at the table for all of a minute before he went on. "With Bile and Lhaklar, excuse me. Bile and Cheshire Ubalki had a fight after Cheshire sent a minor electrical charge at the dark fellow that's been drawn on that piece of paper. Bile, Lhaklar, and that dark-skinned fellow ran off soon after Bile started fighting Cheshire Ubalki, I ran after them."

"Maybe what you saw was one of Bile or Lhaklar's friends or something," Triskull said. "A friend or maybe someone that Bile and Lhaklar hooked up with after they reached the fair."

"Does the name Numbskull ring any bells in that head of yours?" KurukVile asked his son.

"No,"

"Think hard now—don't answer but so quickly." KurukVile said in a half-snap. "Have any of the women that you've bedded in this place of yours gotten pregnant?"

"You know my policy. Spell then potion or no go." Triskull answered quickly.

"Bile called that dark-skinned fellow Numbskull; I find that very eerily similar to your own name." KurukVile said. There was a menacing undertone to his low, croaky voice.

"So," Triskull said. "So what if that guy's name is Numbskull."

"That fellow—" KurukVile glanced at the piece of paper that had the drawing on it. "—looks like you as well."

"Don't even suggest it. I have no kids—none of the women that I've taken to bed have gotten pregnant and no woman that I've slept with has given birth." Triskull said in a slightly elevated voice. What he said next made his father grow infuriated. "Even if one had or did, I'd not be doing any accepting or paternal paperwork. I have no kids, I want no k—"

The lights went out, which only made what happened between he and his father seem like a right bad nightmare. His father roared something incoherently at him then lunged forward; the table was flung to the side in his father's charge, and everything that was on its surface either broke or flew off to some area in the kitchen. His father's bulging wallet smacked up against the kitchen's back wall; all of the cash and cards that were in it flew into the air. The drawing of the dark-skinned guy landed on the floor behind him; it was nearly ripped in half after his father's knee slid into it. His two dogs whimpered then ran off to some other place in the house that they thought was safe. The kitchen table's chairs were either broken or shoved against the kitchen's island or the kitchen's back wall. Coffee splashed the walls; the two cups, that he and his father were drinking out of, shattered into a million pieces.

His body screamed when his father collided with him; he went numb afterwards, which was no surprise to him, since his father outweighed him by over a hundred pounds. When his father started to slam his fists into him he didn't fight back... at first, that was. When one of his father's fists slugged into his right eye, he started to kick and swing his arms. His punches were nothing against his father's—he knew that, and so did his father, but his punches, and kicks, were all that he had to rely on at the moment. His father was like a bellowing GamBoar; he swung his fist, he bellowed something incoherently at him, then he swung his fist again. When the lights came back on, his kitchen looked almost like a battlefield. It was all broken and busted up. His raging father backed off when the lights returned; he reached up then grabbed the edge of the kitchen island. When he tried to get up, he found that he couldn't. He spat a glob of blood, and two teeth, then looked at his father, who was standing only two feet from him.

"You best shape your life up and now; I've told you more than once that unless you are with someone steady you are to keep your pants on." his father said. His father's chest was heaving up and down rapidly. While his father's knuckles were bloody, the blood that was on them wasn't his. It was his own. His face was cut up, his lips and cheeks and chin were bleeding, and he was pretty sure that his nose was broken. His father said nothing else for a few minutes; he paced around the kitchen for most of the time that he was silent then he stopped and looked at him. "Get up off the floor, clean yourself up, then head upstairs to pack enough for a month. You're going to Earth and, by the Gods, if that dark fellow turns out to be who I think he is you're going to mature up and do what is right. I don't stick with dead beats. I don't approve of dead beat daddy's and I sure as hell won't have any of my children being a dead beat to their offspring."

As his grandson was getting up from his kitchen floor, dusting himself off, then shaking his head to regain his bearings, he was thinking that the weather, that was going on on the part of Gamma Vile where he and his family lived on, went well with the mood that he was put in earlier that morning. While it wasn't storming when his oldest son called to let him know to be on the look-out for an envelope that had something important in it—the sky had actually looked its normal, two-tone shade of light green and dark green when he picked the envelope up from the desk that was in his office—, the weather had changed and fast about twenty or so minutes after he saw the drawing that was in it. The two-tone green sky had changed to a two-tone gray color then it became almost like night outside; nothing happened for nearly an hour then the sky opened up.

He was too involved in worrying about himself to worry about what was going on outside; after he saw the contents, that were in the manila envelop, that his son sent him, he went into a rather dangerous angry spell that was somewhat scary for him. Hailstones and rain pelted his office windows fiercely; lightning cracked and crashed to the ground; and the wind ripped a few shingles from his residence's roof—he did nothing but sit in his office, with his hand to his chest, all while this was happening. The manila envelope's contents had caused two emotions to spring up in him almost at once—one of them wasn't good while the other, he thought and fully believed, was deliciously fine.

Anger was the first emotion that sprang up; the shock had never really been able to take hold of him. The anger that he felt, after he saw the drawing, was bad enough to make his chest hurt. For all of an hour, he did nothing but sit in the black leather swivel chair, that was before the desk, that was in his office. He sat in the chair, with his hand placed flat against his chest, for all of an hour, worried half to death that something seriously internal was happening—nestled firmly in that worry, there was something else that he was worrying about: the worry of what his wife and children would do without him. While his life insurances were paid off, he was sure his wife would have it rough in raising three teenage children on her own and he was also sure that his three teenage children would miss him just as much as his wife would if he suddenly kicked the bucket. Gaajah, Uevaa, and Selik were young. Much too young to be out on their own and much too young to be taking care of their mother and much too young to be going out to make a name for themselves. His wife would of had to carry his family if he suddenly left the Universe via an anger-induced heart attack.

His heart was racing so much in his anger that his chest and shoulders, and one of his arms, had started to hurt. That wasn't a good experience; he felt a lot of fear over them pains. He had battled through the urge to call his wife; he had never gone through a heart attack before in his life—he had a feeling that he came pretty damn close to having one. The pain was that bad. It took all of an hour for his anger to die down some; when it did, a new emotion took its place. This one consisting of a sick desire to be rid of someone once and for all.

While the normal definition for the word desire was a strong feeling of wanting to have something or wishing for something to happen, his desire had a whole different definition to it. His desire was for someone to be gotten rid of once and for good and, by golly gosh, did he not have something with which to do that with? He let his anger die down then he grabbed the phone from his desk. A quick call was made to his granddaughter, who he had a short talk with.

His granddaughter, TulaVile Arlonia Iovides, was the youngest of the three daughters that his secondborn daughter, Whosla, had bore. His granddaughter was a lovely lady, like all Surfeit women, but she had sadly married a stiff of a man that he fully believed wasn't right for her. Tula, as he and his family, and as his granddaughter's friends all called her, had married a man that really had no ambition to do much of anything but get up in the morning then head off to do whatever he did at the packing firm where he "worked" at. Shit, Rubacon Iovides had said several times that he could barely keep up with his and Tula's only child and that, in his mind, was horrible. A father should always be able to keep up with his children. A father shouldn't just up and leave the house, leaving his wife to tend to their child and the house's daily chores.

In his and his granddaughter's brief conversation, he learned that Mr. Mighty-Worker Rubacon Iovides was at work—he had plenty of time to do what he had in mind to do. He had still given his granddaughter ample warning that he was coming over for a visit, regardless of his finding that her husband wasn't at home.

After speaking with his granddaughter, he got up, stretched, then went to check on his family, who he found in the living room. His wife, and their young daughter, Uevaa, were knitting while Gaajah and Selik were staring out one of the living room windows. With his having a probable heart attack earlier, he had decided to forgo any training exercises with his two sons. He didn't need nor want anymore stress added to what he had just experienced; he had let his sons look out the living room windows and he had let his wife and Uevaa knit in peace. He sat with his family for nearly an hour before returning to his office—he checked messages, then the paperwork that he had only just gotten through doing, then he put the drawing in a brown leather traveler's wallet. With the drawing on his person, he went back to the living room to give his family the word of his leaving the house for a few hours. His wife asked him one question after he said that he was leaving the house for a little while—it was a basic question and he hadn't been offended by it one bit. She asked him where he was going and he had promptly responded by saying that he was going to see his granddaughter, Tula, for a bit. His wife gave her head a nod before going back to her knitting; after she did that, he told their children to behave themselves while he was gone. He left after doing that.

"Sorry sir," a young child of common breeding said after his red and yellow rubber ball struck him in the side. The child picked the ball up then ran back to where he and several other children looked to be playing a game of kick ball.

The weather where he was was very different than what it was where he had been only a few seconds ago. The sky was a bright, electric blue, and the wind was mild. The three spheres that the planets in his birth galaxy revolved around had the temperature of his current location at a nice seventy-three degrees. Birds flew in the sky; the birds that were scampering about on the ground were instinctively steering clear of the light purple grasses that grew on the planet. The planet that he was on wasn't Gamma Vile; he had left Gamma Vile for a planet that he had spent nearly a hundred thousand years on. Mooshang. He was on Mooshang, a planet that was two planets past Moas. While the radiation that came off the three spheres wasn't as strong on this planet the natural grass was still poisonous; the light purple grass, that the birds were staying away from, was poisonous enough to send a person to the hospital. There were wispy, hair-like, rather delicate looking light purple clouds in the electric blue sky; the delicate looking clouds, and the electric blue sky, gave the planet a rather peaceful feeling that he was okay with.

The street that he had teleported to was flanked on both sides by apartment buildings; the ones that were behind him had a break in them. There was an area set-up between the two, separate apartment buildings for the children to play in. There were swings, teeter-totters, slides, and jungle gyms galore in that area and there were also two sandboxes set off to the side. The whole area that was set-up for the apartment buildings' tenants' children had safe and ripe green grass growing in it. The grass was artificial but it looked pretty convincingly natural.

He paid no mind to the buildings that were behind him. He crossed the street to the apartment buildings that were in front of him. Apartment 5; that was the one that he was looking for. Apartment 5 was the building where his granddaughter and great-granddaughter lived in with that fool Rubacon Iovides.

The apartments that were in front of him were tall structures. They had to be—there was a pretty steep cliff behind them. The buildings that were behind him were wider; they were also not as tall. The reason for this was because they didn't sit on a cliff. The people that lived on Mooshang had to contend with living in housing that overlooked cliffs—Mooshang had millions of cliffs, mountainous peaks, and drops-offs all throughout its surface. Mooshang had just one ocean, which was semi-poisonous; there were a plethora of rivers, lakes, and streams that weren't poisonous—that was where the planet's residents got their drinking water from. The warm seasons on this planet were pretty long—about ten months of nice weather occurred here. The two, cold-weather months that occurred on the planet were pretty extreme—most of the time, everything froze up during them two months.

"Apartment Five... Apaaaartmeeent Five," he said aloud. He looked the apartments over closely after he finished his walk across the street. Apartment 3 was in front of him, Apartment 4 was on Apartment 3's right, and... for some reason, Apartment 5 was on Apartment 3's left.

A fire escape ran down from the fourth window of the building; there were large, box-windows under that window—those were there just in case a fire broke out and someone that was on the second or third floors needed to get out in a hurry. The first level of the apartment had three windows on its front; they were small, but one could well look out from them and see everything that was going on outside of the apartment. A four-step, brick porch led up to a white door that had the number five on it. The mailbox was shaped like a log; it had _Iovides_ on it in black letters. He wasted no time in going up the steps and he wasted no time in jabbing his thumb into the square-shaped doorbell. He heard a child yell out from the inside about there being someone at the door. A woman shouted for the child to answer the door, then he heard no more. He waited three minutes before jabbing his thumb into the doorbell again; the woman that was in the apartment yelled for her child to please stop doing what she was and answer the door. The woman's child yelled back saying that she was on the phone; there was a slight verbal fuss between the two then he heard a chain being jingled on the door's other side. The door opened ever so slightly afterwards; the person, that was on the other side of the door, only opened the door a crack before calling out to him.

"We _don't_ want any cookies! We _don't_ want to buy any insurances! And we _can't_ afford charity! Go _away_!" A young, feminine-sounding voice said from behind the door. The door was then shut; DuruVile stood quietly where he was for a few seconds before reaching his hand forward. He clicked his nails on the wood of the door; they produced a reptilian sound that he was both very conscious of and that he liked. He rat-a-tap-tapped on the door with his fingernails for thirty seconds then he slapped the door with the palm of his hand a few times. The chain was jingled again then the door was opened just a crack.

"Salasari?" DuruVile said after the door was opened; he tried to soften his deep, booming voice as much as he could.

That was all it took. His deep, booming voice was strong enough to automatically attract anyone's attention and, since Salasari knew his voice well, and since she knew who he was, she wasted no time in throwing the door all the way open. She greeted him warmly by very nearly knocking him down the porch's four steps. She leaped at him then wrapped her arms around him tightly. He returned the hug then he gently pushed her back from him; he walked away from the edge of the step that was behind him then he practically welcomed himself into the apartment. His great-granddaughter closed the door behind them then she walked around him. She led the way to the apartment's interior afterwards.

As hard as it was for him to believe, Salasari had grown up. She had become a young lady. She mostly resembled her mother—her skin was a light orange color; except for the few, scaly parts, that lay here and there, it was smooth and blemish free. Her orange-colored, elongated ears were only slightly sticking out from the sides of her head; they had thin, light orange, Tiger-like stripes on them. Her blue hair hung just below her shoulders; it was set in a perm at the moment. She had a petite body build; her breasts were apple-sized which, he thought and firmly believed, was very appropriate for a girl of her age. The only thing that Salasari had genetically received from her father were her eyes—they were as black as could be, but there was a certain femininity to them that just made her look downright enchanting. She was wearing a yellow and blue, two-tone blouse that had ruffled sleeves. The knee-high, jean skirt, that she was also wearing, was faded in several areas; she had yellow, slip-on shoes on her feet. Salasari stood just five foot, five inches—a modest height for a girl who had Surfeit-blood running through her veins. His great-granddaughter was in her late teenage years; she was two thousand, seven hundred, and ninety-eight years old.

"You don't want cookies, you don't do insurances, and you can't afford charities but you'll let in your old grandda." DuruVile said after Salasari led him to the apartment's living room. "I feel somewhat special."

"We live near a high school; we always have them high-schoolers coming here with boxes of cookies or other stuff that they're selling for the school. I think the insurance sellers and the charity preachers are just plain annoying. They come knocking once, maybe twice, a week." Salasari said.

"You and you mother should move back to Gamma Vile," DuruVile said. "Think there's a place near your grampy that's for sell—it'd be perfect for you two."

"Don't you mean three, grandda?" Salasari asked. "My mom, my dad, and I make three. Not two."

"Where's your mother, Sala?" DuruVile asked. "I need to speak with her."

"Doing laundry, I think." Salasari answered, she then started yelling for her mother. She yelled _mom! Grandda is here and he wants to speak to you_ rather loudly; DuruVile took a few steps from his great-granddaughter in shock. He shook his head then went to sit on the living room's couch.

"Your mother is doing laundry, what was you doing before I knocked on the door?" DuruVile asked. He heard a low ring in his left ear.

"Was on the phone with Strignort." Salasari replied.

"Strig-what?" DuruVile looked at Salasari sharply; he had a feeling that she was talking on the phone with a boy.

"Strignort, I think you'd like him. He's big and strong and he's soooo cute! He lives with his grandfather in the apartment three doors down." Salasari replied.

Before he could say anything on his great-granddaughter's boy-interest, Tula walked into the room. She told Salasari to go do the dishes like she told her to do an hour ago then she sat down.

The room, in his opinion, was very sparsely furnished. It was sad and it was infuriating that his granddaughter and great-granddaughter had to live the way they did; Rubacon really did have them living like normal, everyday peasants. The couch that he was sitting on was red; along with being overstuffed, it had two patches on its cushions. The chair that Tula was sitting on was one of the ugliest chairs that he had ever seen in his life! Light brown, with red, yellow, and pink flower designs on it. The chair was like the couch—it was overstuffed. The matching ottoman, that was in front of the chair, had three patches on it. There was a wide backed, 25" tv on top of a cabinet; the cabinet had once been a nicely polished brown oak—it was now dull. It had many scuff marks, scratches, and dings on it. One of the cabinet doors was missing. The apartment's carpet was dark brown; there were holes in it in several places. There were two or three pole lamps in the room—he thought that they were the room's only halfway decent items. They were vintage, they were tensioned, and they had light fixtures that looked like champagne or wine bottles on them. There was a ceiling fan above that's light fixtures were styled like tulips; the blades of the fan were scuffed up pretty badly.

As far as he was concerned, the apartment that Tula and Salasari were forced to live in was right crummy. There were cracks in the corners of the walls, and the green paint, that was on the walls, was either faint or chipping in places. The carpet, along with having several missing pieces to it, was worn-out in certain places. There had once been a coffee table in front of the couch; Rubacon threw it out after the dog, that he brought home for his daughter, chewed the thing to splinters. That damn dog... DuruVile very nearly shook his head when the dog came to his mind. Rubacon came home from work with a small Dachshoon puppy one day a hundred or so years ago; he gave it to Salasari as a birthday present. The puppy had practically destroyed all of the apartment's furniture, and it had also left its stools all over the place. As far as he knew, they still had the dog—where it was at the moment he didn't know; he didn't hear it when he knocked on the door and he didn't hear it after he came into the apartment.

Tula, the poor thing! She looked tired; it looked as if she had already done a whole day's worth of house chores and it wasn't even past mid-morning. Tula, along with being the daughter of Whosla, was also the daughter of Whosla's husband, Zebyr Verobari; she looked most like her mother, which he was glad for because her father didn't look like much, appearance-wise. Tula's green and blue scaled, elongated ears had thin, black, Tiger-like stripes on them; her light orange skin had a scaly, lizard-like appearance to it. She had light brown hair, which was up in a pony-tail at the moment. Her lizard-like fingernails were white, as were her eyes. She was wearing a pair of slacks that looked about ready for the trash heap; the red blouse, that she was wearing, looked nice but it was missing two of its top buttons. There was a pair of pink fuzzy slippers on her feet.

Tula was only a hundred and one thousand, three hundred, and nine years old but she looked far older in the face and in the eyes. The man that she went and married was actually thirty thousand years younger than her; he had heard stories on how pissed Whosla and Zebyr were when they discovered the age difference between their daughter and the man that she was married to.

"You look tired, Tula." DuruVile said.

"I am." Tula said back. "Clothing, rugs, and going back and forth from upstairs to downstairs. Been trying to get Sal to do some of the chores today; not easy with that boy that she's suddenly so head-over-heels about."

"It _pains_ me to see you looking so tired, Tula. It _pains_ me _a lot_ , you know. You should really think about dumping that husband of yours and coming home." DuruVile said.

"Leave Ruby? I don't think so. I love him. He's my husband." Tula replied. "He's—"

"Got you living in squalor. He leaves you alone for nearly all of the day and most of the night. You're practically married to a ghost, Tula." DuruVile said.

"We're doing fine," Tula said. "We can't help it about his salary, or his hours; we're happy with what we have."

"Tula—"

"Is this why you came over, granddaddy?" Tula asked. "To put my husband and my family's living conditions down?"

"No," DuruVile said. He shook his head as he reached into his shirt for the traveler's wallet that had the drawing in it. "I mostly came here to see you and Salasari and to ask if you know of your husband's out-of-the-house activities."

"He doesn't go around behind my back with his female co-workers, or with any of his female friends, if that's what you're asking." Tula sighed. She was annoyed and she sounded offended too. "He works hard, and he puts in all of the hours that he can in the factory so we don't have to struggle. He goes bowling on his day's off. He also takes me and Salasari out for dinner on his day's off. If he's not taking us out, or bowling on his day's off, he stays home."

In a way, he latched onto that bowling thing that his grandson-in-law did on his day's off; he asked his granddaughter if she knew of any other children that her husband had fathered either before or during their marriage as he took the traveler's wallet out from his shirt. He took the drawing out as she said no then he gave it to her. He asked Tula as gently as he could if she really knew of her husband's activities during the time that he spent out of the apartment, when he was both "supposedly" at work and when he went off to "bowl" on his day's off, as she took the drawing from him; after she took the drawing from him, he told her that it was of a being that his oldest son had seen Bile and Lhaklar with thirty-five hours ago, on Earth.

What happened next was pretty normal. Except for the clicks and clangs of the pots and pans that Salasari was washing in the kitchen, the apartment went silent as Tula looked at the drawing. DuruVile felt a sick sense of accomplishment fall over him as that silence continued to go on in the apartment; he felt bad for having ruined his granddaughter's marriage, yes, but he also felt an accomplishment in finally getting rid of one of the idiots that one of his good-blooded stock had gone and married. The silence ran on for a good, long, ten minutes; it was only broken when Tula stood up then left the room. He stood then followed his granddaughter concernedly; he only stopped following her when he saw that she had the apartment's phone to her ear.

"Hello Mustafir, is my husband anywhere around?" Tula asked after she dialed a number; DuruVile mouthed the spell that would allow him to hear both ends of the conversation that was about to take place. The person that picked the other end of the phone up said for Tula to hang on and she did; she was only on-hold for two minutes before her husband reached the phone.

"Tulie," Rubacon said after he picked the other end of the phone up. "What's going on? Something wrong?"

"Rube... I honestly don't know what to say of what I just saw." Tula said. She was on the verge of crying. Salasari turned around; she looked at her mother questioningly. "I-I just... well, I'm not sure what I was just handed but... Rube, my grandfather's here and..."

"What did that idiot do now?" Rubacon asked after his wife trailed off. DuruVile felt a trifle bit offended by being called an idiot, but he kept his mouth shut.

"He... he handed me this drawing that has some kid or guy on it." Tula said, tears were close now. DuruVile walked over to Salasari; he was quiet and fast in escorting her from the kitchen. When he returned, Tula was crying.

"Tula, _listen_ to yourself. You're blubbering over some drawing that that kook of a grandfather of yours probably made up for this exact purpose." Rubacon was saying. "You know how that man is—he claims that he loves the members of his family when he really doesn't. He treats the ones that carry his blood in their veins like crap. He talks bad behind everyone's backs and he practically hates all of the spouses that his blood-relatives have married."

"The d-d-d-drawing looks v-v-very sim-similar to y-y-you, Ru-Ru-Ruba-c-con." Tula said between sobs. DuruVile fought the urge to go to her. He fought the urge to grab the phone, hang it up, then wrap his arms around her.

"Yeah, have you seen my nephew lately?" Rubacon said in a non-caring way. "Practically a mini version of myself, except for the eyes. Staggom has green eyes, remember? He looks like me but he has green eyes. Not black."

Tula bawled miserably for all of two minutes. She couldn't get anything out coherently. All she could do was cry, which made DuruVile feel right sad. The only woman that he had seen cry this miserably was Cyla, who had nearly screamed herself raw after she saw and then read the divorce papers, that came in the mail many thousands of years ago, when they were married for that first time. When he came home, Cyla's eyes were red-rimmed, and her face was all puffed up. He had still been in love with Cyla but that damn Ashaklar Zoopray had managed to slip her youthful charm in somehow; that rotten bitch Ashaklar Zoopray had come between him and his second wife... She had made him grow lustful for her and he had done a terrible thing by divorcing the woman that he had still been in love with to be with her. When he came home on the day that Cyla received the divorce papers, he had found himself needing a new shirt; his wife had practically ripped the shirt that he was wearing at the time off of him in her grief over losing him. DuruVile was about to walk forward, to give his granddaughter some comfort, when she got control of herself. She hitched in two breaths then spoke into the phone.

"You're gone for most of the day," Tula said. DuruVile winced. Now came the accusations; the ones that he had been playing off on. "How am _I_ suppose to _know_ what all _you_ do during the day or during the shifts that you're all too willing to take at the factory?"

"Tula!" Rubacon practically yelled. "You know damn well what I _do_ during the day and during my night shifts! I work, woman! I work to put food on our table and to put clothes on our backs and to keep the bills paid."

"And when you go out to "bowl" with them friends of yours? How am _I_ suppose to _know_ that you're not _sleeping_ with your female friend, Zazira?"

"Tula!" Rubacon sounded almost like he was about to cry; DuruVile wished that he could appear where the fool was. He wished that he could see the fool as he started to cry like a little baby.

" _How! How!_ How am I suppose to—"

"Tula, we've been married for forty-six thousand years! Who're you going to trust more? Your husband, who you've known for forty-six thousand years, or your grandfather, who you've known for a little over twenty-two hundred years?" Rubacon yelled. He began to sob right then and there. A vicious smile spread across DuruVile's face after that sob was heard. He was sure that he was victorious in splitting one of the fools from his blood stock.


	23. Chapter 23

"And hello and good mornin' to all you sleepy heads; from NRJ Energy Radio, we wish to bring you to the world of wakedom. After a rather spectacular night of feeling not one but two, back-to-back earthquakes it looks like things have finally calmed down enough for all to breathe sighs of relief. For the last five days it has done nothing but snow and it looks like the same will happen today so break out them snowshoes and them boogie boards and them sleh—"

The green alarm clock, that had the two, mechanical frogs, that moved up and down on its top after the alarm sounded, made a cracking sound as the periwinkle-blue colored fist slammed down on it. Springs and coils and one of the capacitors flew out from the smashed radio box, so too did one of the tuning knobs and the digital clock face. This was only the third time that week that the alarm clock had been busted in this way and, like the other three times, it would be hastily repaired by the owner speaking out a repairing spell that would make it look like new. The periwinkle-blue colored fist, that demolished the alarm clock, unraveled itself then slowly slid off the remains of the clock to the flat surface of the distressed wooden side table that the clock was on. The hand slid off the surface of the table then it simply dangled by the side of the bed for what seemed like forever before the arm that it was attached to pulled it up. Lazeer slowly pushed himself up from the pillow that his face was practically buried in; he shook his head then rubbed his eyes. When all of the eye gunk was removed from the corners of his eyes, and from his eyelids, he looked at the mess that he made a few minutes ago; the plastic casing, that protected all of the clock's innards, was cracked in three places, and the two frogs that were normally on the clock's top were now dangling by the springs that enabled them to move up and down after the alarm went off. The left mechanical frog's head was missing while the other frog's head was surprisingly intact.

Lazeer threw his blankets off then got out of bed; the first thing that he did that morning was collect the pieces to his broken alarm clock. He crawled around on his hands and knees for all of five minutes. He quickly scooped each piece of his broken clock up from the dark red carpet that was in his room; each of the pieces that he found were carefully placed on the surface of the table that the rest of the clock was on. After all of the pieces to the demolished clock were collected, he got up from the floor. He did a few stretches to wake the muscles that were in his body, and to make the blood flow faster in his veins, then he turned and went towards his room's stained oak hardwood dresser. He pulled a pair of dark gray pants, which had right big tears in the knees, out of one of the six dresser drawers then he pulled a dark red t-shirt, that was missing one of its sleeves, out of another. He slid them two drawers shut then he pulled the drawer that had his underwear and socks in it open. A fresh pair of underwear, then a pair of red socks, were taken from that drawer. He slid the drawer shut then donned most of the clothing that was taken from the dresser. With himself clothed, he left his bedroom to do his usual in the bathroom—which was empty his bladder, throw some cold water on his face, and brush his teeth.

"The bathroom's..." Lazeer looked up sharply; he saw Bile racing from the room that was directly across the hall from his own to the bathroom that sat between their rooms. Hazaar appeared almost out of nowhere; he limp-ran into the bathroom then slammed the door shut. Bile pulled his hand back with a hiss—he was reaching for the door frame that the bathroom door was hinged to when Hazaar ran into the bathroom in front of him. He had very nearly lost the tips of his long, dark yellow fingernails.

"Mine!" Hazaar yelled triumphantly from behind the bathroom door. While the sound of the lock on the bathroom door being turned was faint, both he and Bile heard it.

"Damn you, Hazaar!" Bile yelled. He slammed his fists against the bathroom door twice then turned around. He walked down the second level's hallway quickly then went down the stairs. Lazeer didn't need to ask where his older brother was going—since the upstairs bathroom was occupied, Bile was going down to the bathroom that was on the house's first level.

Since the house's two bathrooms were being used, Lazeer decided to head back to his bedroom to both repair the clock that he broke and to replace it with the new one that he purchased two days after he and his family went to the second-held Oktoberfest funfair. The clock that he demolished was an old one. He had used it when he was a kid; it was put in his family's underground storage right after he returned home after graduating from Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. Since none of the clocks, that were in the catalog that Mr. Leinart gave him in July, had appealed to him, he had decided to exhume and then use the retired one that was in his family's underground storage. He went out and purchased a new alarm clock, which was shaped like a Metal Robot Gear, on the 25th of October. It was sitting in his closet for six days now.

The weather had remained decent after the 23rd of October; it had either been sunny or partly cloudy and the temperatures had either been in the high-sixties or in the low-seventies from the 23rd of October to the 26th of October. The weather went crazy after the 26th of October. It had started to snow, and pretty heavily too, on the 27th of October. It seemed to not want to let up.

Thanks to the sudden snowfall, his mother was getting up earlier than usual. She was setting her alarm for 5:25 a.m. for the last four days just to be ready for when the streets were cleared of the snow. Since the streetplows made their rounds of the streets that were in their neighborhood, and that were in the town that they lived near, at 5:45 a.m., she had wanted to be ready for when the streets were cleared to drive in to work. The snow piled up pretty quick; it had a way of not letting up for hours, and it also had a strange way of tapering off only to become blizzard-like in seconds, so it really only took a short while for the streets to be snow-logged again after the streetplows cleared the snow from them.

Here it was, the 31st of October, and it was snowing almost like it was December!

The weather forecasters were all baffled over the sudden snow spell. There were reporters all over, capturing the falling snow and the snow activities of German citizens—a reporter was pelted by snowballs by a dozen small children on the 28th of October in Baden-Baden; another reporter interviewed an elderly woman, who was shoveling her walk, while her husband was brushing snow off their car with a broom, on the 29th of October in the Böblingen district, which was in the middle of Baden-Württemberg; and... well, he had laughed himself hoarse when a streetplow nearly buried another reporter in snow on the same day that the elderly woman was interviewed. The reporter that was nearly buried in snow was doing a report on how deep the snow was in the Enzkreis district, which was up north of his and his family's location. A female reporter—a rather pretty one, who had long, blonde hair and bright, blue eyes—had walked through a field in a town called Ötigheim yesterday. She had a hard time walking because of the snow, which had come almost to her waist.

While the temperatures from the 27th of October to October the 30th was bad—was pretty cold—, the snow had done wonders in lifting his and his brothers' moods up some; they had sure needed a mood-lifter after what happened at the second-held Oktoberfest funfair that they attended on the twenty-third. Hazaar was pretty badly shaken up, Guyunis was quite upset, Lhaklar had looked about ready to hurl, and Bile had looked about ready to rip the head off anyone who simply glanced over at him... or at one of them, for that matter. From what he was told, Mr. Leinart had rushed over to his mother with Hazaar pretty much draped over his shoulder; Mr. Leinart's children had explained all of what happened then Mr. Leinart cleaned some of the details that they said so his mother would understand what happened better.

Apparently, his father and aunt Qeeta had found a way into the shields. They came to the second-held Oktoberfest funfair to create trouble. His father had manhandled Hazaar, Mr. Leinart had said; his father had pushed and shoved and dragged and hit and yelled at Hazaar and aunt Qeeta had joined in. Hazaar was too shaken up to explain what happened; their mother had heard all of what she needed to hear from Mr. Leinart and his kids to become alarmed. Bile, Lhaklar, and Guyunis had shown up ten minutes later; his mother only needed to take one look at them to know that something had also happened to them.

Granddaddy Cheshire was the one to spoil their fun and to cause trouble for them instead of big, bad, daddy. A rather depressed and sick-looking Lhaklar had told their mother an innocent-sounding tale of what happened to them in the Oktoberfest parking lot; he said that he and Bile went their separate ways after putting some of the stuff that they won at the fair in the i8 BMW's trunk. Granddaddy Cheshire ran up from out of nowhere after he closed and then climbed onto the trunk of the BMW.

Lhaklar claimed that, after putting his fair winnings in the i8's trunk, he decided to rest a while on its trunk. He had just been innocently lying on the trunk when granddaddy Cheshire ran up. According to Bile, granddaddy Cheshire hadn't only ripped Lhaklar up, off the car—he had also manhandled him. Granddaddy Cheshire had yanked Lhaklar around like a rag doll, Bile said. The man had also swung Lhaklar into a car; one of the man's fists had also been slugged into Lhaklar's stomach.

Granddaddy Cheshire had also attacked Guyunis, who had just walked into the parking lot. Bile claimed to of fought the man afterwards.

"He attacked Guyunis for no reason, ma!" Bile had exclaimed before he told of how he and their grandfather had fought. "Guyunis had just walked into the parking lot—he wasn't doin' nuthin' to-to... you know. Be attacked."

"Lhakie, what happened between Guyunis and Cheshire?" their mother asked Lhaklar. Bile, at the time, was having a difficult time speaking. He was too upset to speak coherently.

"Granddad sent an electric charge at him," Lhaklar replied. "It struck him in the side. At the time, I was on my back. Beside the i8. Guyunis stopped for only a second or two after he saw our grandfather. He was on his way over to me when he was attacked."

They left the fair quickly after the happenings between Hazaar and their father and aunt and Bile, Lhaklar, and Guyunis and Cheshire were all exposed. Their mother had said for his brothers to teleport to the house then she went to look for him. He was nearby; while he hadn't had any encounters with the ones who came to the fair to crash their fun, and while he hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary, he did no fussing when she said that they had to go home and now. His mother's Porsche D2 and his and his brothers' i8 BMW had sat in the Oktoberfest's parking lot for a few hours before his mother said the spell that made the two vehicles appear in their driveway; all of the items that they had either bought or won at the fair were retrieved from the cars soon after then they went to bed. It was a long night for them; after all of the events that happened near the end of their attendance at the fair, they had really had no interest in sleeping. They had spent most of the day, after they went to the second-held Oktoberfest funfair, watching the tube or listening to some music. No one was interested in leaving the house.

"Repairimus clockitomus," he said. As all of the springs, coils, tuning knobs, and the capacitor floated up from the side table's surface then went to their respective places in the clock, and as all of the cracks and breaks that were in the plastic casing that protected the innards of the digital clock magically repaired themselves, and as the digital clock face flew back to where it was suppose to be, he went to his closet.

While his room wasn't what one would call fully clean and neat—there were a few things lying about on the floor, and one of the posters that were up on one of the walls was crooked, and there were two plastic cups on top of the dresser—he was quite proud of what it looked like and he was liking the idea of having a bedroom to call all his own. Sharing a bedroom with Hazaar was fine and all but, in the end, it had gotten rather cramped and cluttered after a while and, since he and Hazaar were going through that Temperamental phase at the same time, they had gotten on each others nerves from time to time. Even when they shared a room, they had respected each others things and space, so there were no fights being sparked up over who broke that item or who took this thing or that thing without asking or who touched this thing or that thing if something was noticed as not being in the spot that it was in before. His room wasn't as extremely decorated as Bile's or Hazaar's, but he did have his hunting trophies out and in the open and there were a few completed models hanging from the ceiling.

The furniture in his room was the same, but there were several additions that hadn't been put in his room by human hands. The three pillows and the oak camouflage comforter set, with the matching pillow cases and the dark green fleece blanket, that were on the bed, that he had yet to make, were the same ones that he purchased in August, after his family moved to the house. The Indian imitation, optical illusion rug, that was beside his bed, was still there, as was the distressed side table, that had the lamp, that had all the plastic Stegosaur, Velociraptor, Tyrannosaurus Rex, and Triceratops figurines on its base. The five-shelf bookcase, that was beside his dresser, was also still in his room, but it was given a major make-over after he got himself settled in the house. As he was pulling the door to his room's closet open, he took in all that was on his bookcase.

The mini stereo, that his mother gave him as a late-birthday present in August, was on the bookcase's top shelf, as were the mini stereo's speakers; the twenty-odd CDs that he had were on the same shelf, as were his magazines. The shelf that was under that one was bare, but the shelf that was under that one was pretty full.

The vintage glass airplane lamp and the Flying Saucer lamp were still on the third shelf of his bookcase, but they were moved from their original places. The vintage glass airplane lamp was slid to the far left side of the third shelf while the Flying Saucer lamp was slid to the far right side of the shelf; some of his smaller hunting trophies were placed between the two lamps. Despite the fact that his goggled glass gave him the ability to hunt during the day, he had still done a lot of hunting during the night hours and, through his nightly hunts, he had acquired a very fine collection of hunting trophies of nocturnal animals.

The first item that was between the two lamps was a preserved Egyptian Weasel—a nocturnal animal that had short legs, a broad snout and small ears on a small head, and a long, but thin, tail. He had snagged ten of the animals on one of his night hunts when he and his family were living in Egypt; the animal had a mostly brown coat while its legs, ears, and stomach were a creamy color. He was pretty sure that his "bat-loving" father would do a crazy back-flip if he ever saw the animal that was beside the preserved Egyptian Weasel. One morning, almost seven months ago, the cave that he and his family were living in in Boulder, Colorado was invaded by a colony of Silver-haired bats. About four days after the colony moved in, after nearly being driven crazy by the constant sounds and their worry of contracting rabies, they decided to try to drive the bats from the cave. During the attempt to drive the bat colony from the cave, he accidentally stepped on one of the bats, which was on the floor of the cave. He hadn't meant to kill the bat. He didn't know that it was on the cave's floor. He had felt rather poorly over his stepping on and then killing the bat. After a few hours of being depressed over the accidental killing of the bat, he scooped it up then went to the town that was near the cave that he and his family were living in to see a taxidermist about possibly preserving it.

The taxidermist that he took the bat to had preserved the bat with its mouth open; the man had also pinned the bat's wings and feet to a piece of mahogany wood. While the wings of the animal that was on his bookcase were naturally hairless, the fur that was on its stomach and back was black. The tips of the fur that was on its back and stomach were white—the white-tipped fur gave the animal a frosted or silver appearance, thus the reason for why it was named the Silver-haired bat. Since the bat was preserved with its mouth open, the sharp, little teeth could be seen. Its tiny, pink tongue could also be seen. The Silver-haired bat had once been thought as extinct; it was rediscovered a hundred and twenty years ago by a group of scientists in Canada. Since its rediscovery, its population numbers had increased. The bat species was now known to reside all over North America and there were a few places in Central and South America where it was seen too.

The animal that was beside the preserved Silver-haired bat was a weird one. His brothers had all thought that he had gone crazy when he brought back ten animals that looked like Armadillos one night after he went out to do a little nighttime hunting. The animals that he brought back that one, cold night, when he and his family were living in Africa, had weighed no more than fifteen pounds and they had all had large, overlapping, plate-like scales on their backs, sides, and tails and they had also had long claws on their front feet. His mother did what she could with the animals; while it wasn't a big meal, it had kept them from going hungry during the night. The animal that he preserved himself looked just like the others that they ate that night so many nights ago; it had large, overlapping, plate-like scales on its back, sides, and tail and it had long claws on its front feet. He had propped the thirty-nine inch long animal up, on a piece of driftwood after he was through with preserving it. The end of the animal's tail was slightly curled. His brothers all called the animal a freak of nature when, in reality, it was called a Pangolin. Like the Egyptian Weasel and the Silver-haired bat, the Pangolin was also a nocturnal animal.

There were only two hunting trophies on the bookcase's fourth shelf; one of them was given one hell of a funny name—he had made sure to crank out the jokes like crazy after bringing six of that one particular animal back to the cave that he and his family had lived in four months ago. The preserved Dik-dik, a species of Antelope that was considered to be the smallest antelope species in Africa, which stood just sixteen inches tall and that were anywhere between twenty and twenty-eight inches long, had a gray-brown upper-body coat while its lower parts—the legs, belly, chest, and flanks—were tan. The preserved Dik-dik that was on the fourth shelf of his bookcase had a bare, black spot below the inside corner of each of its dark eyes; the animal's three-inch long horns were nearly hidden by an upright tuft of hair that looked similar to a mohawk. The tuft of hair was dark tan in color; the nearly concealed horns were dark gray and ribbed. The six Dik-dik's that he caught were caught during the daytime hours—he had decided to do a little daytime hunting on that day to test out his goggled glass.

The two items that Bile found for him after he went to the dump that was in Au am Rhein in September—the Chinese Junk Pirate boat model and the model of the nickel-silver rowing boat, that had a stainless steel armature oarsman in it—were between the preserved Dik-dik and the preserved Egyptian Mastigure or dabb lizard. The preserved specimen of the Egyptian Mastigure, that was on the same shelf as the preserved Dik-dik, was the only one that he had managed to keep of the nine that he brought back from one of the few hunts that he did during the daytime hours when he and his family were living in Egypt. The preserved "dabb lizard" that was on the fourth shelf of his bookcase had a thick skin on it and its heavy, muscular, and spiny tail had a club-like appearance to it. While the preserved Egyptian Mastigure was mainly yellow in color its head and feet and some of its spiny tail were dark gray to black in color.

Like the shelf above, the last shelf that was on his bookcase had only two hunting trophies on it. The first item that was on the last shelf of his bookcase was none other than a preserved Nine-banded armadillo or, as Bile and Hazaar called it, the Pangolin's "Weird Cousin". The animal's back, sides, and tail had a covering of scaly plates or scutes on them; the plate-like scutes that were on its shoulders and rump were rather large. The underside of the animal was covered in tough skin. There was a layer of coarse hair over that tough skin. The claws that came out of the animal's middle forefingers were longer than the other claws that came out of the animal's other fingers; the longer claws enabled the animal to dig for prey in the dry soil of its environment. The animal was nocturnal and, in fact, he caught it, and six others, during one of his nighttime hunts when he and his family were living in Colorado—a state where the animal migrated to then decided to stay in some four hundred years ago. The preserved Nine-banded armadillo was preserved standing up on its hind legs; its front legs were hanging loosely in front of its chest, while its tail was pulled over to the right side of its body.

The stocky and low-slung bodied American Badger, yet another animal that he caught during one of his nighttime hunts, was the last item on the bookcase. It was a right big surprise to both him and his mother when he brought back seven of the animals; the taxidermist that preserved the animal for him had also been right shocked. The human who preserved the American Badger for him had just stared at the animal with his mouth open and with his eyes nearly bursting from their sockets after he showed him what he wanted to be preserved. The American Badger was said to of gone extinct around two hundred and fifteen to two hundred and twenty years ago, after some rather popular actresses and musicians were seen as either walking around or performing in its pelt. The American Badger that was on the last shelf of his bookcase had short, powerful legs; the forelegs of the animal had huge claws on them while the claws that were on the back feet were short. Except for the animal's head, the animal had a grizzled brown, black, and white coat of coarse hair or fur that almost gave it a mixed brown-tan appearance. The animal's triangular-shaped face had a distinctive black and white pattern to it. The cheeks had dark stripes on them; a white stripe ran from the base of the animal's head down to the animal's nose. After he brought the seven animals back to the cave, where he and his family were residing in, he asked if one of them could be saved. He had wanted to get one of the seven animals preserved as a hunting trophy. His mother had said that, since he was the one who brought the animals back, and since six of the seven animals that he brought back were more than enough to keep them fed for a few days, she would be more than glad to save one of them for him.

"And, out of all them trophies, only a handful broke during the earthquake," Lazeer thought. The corners of his O-shaped mouth curved up gently as he smiled when this thought crossed his mind; it had only been the preserved Dik-dik, the Egyptian Mastigure, and the Silver-haired bat that were either damaged or broken during the earthquake that happened on the second of October. The model of the Chinese Junk Pirate boat had also been damaged and five of his CDs had shattered into a million pieces too. His mother had repaired all of this on the 5th of October.

He grabbed the box that had the Metal Robot Gear alarm clock in it from the shelf, that was over the rod, that his two coats, his two flannel shirts, and his three sweaters hung from, then he turned and walked out of his closet—which was marvelously and strangely neat. The boxes that the models that he completed over the last two months were stacked on top of one another in one of the closet's back corners; the other corner of the closet was open. The three pairs of shoes that he had to his name were lined up against the closet's left facing wall; there was a pile of dirty laundry—mostly socks, pants, and shirts—in front of them.

The next two minutes were boring for him; he made his bed, then replaced the old alarm clock with the new one, before saying the spell that sent the clock that he used in his childhood back to his and his family's underground storage area. With the clocks switched and the bed made, he left his room hoping that the bathroom that was between his and Bile's rooms was unoccupied. He really had to pee now and he really needed to finish the first part of his morning routine; while he was awake, he wasn't fully awake. He still needed to splash some water in his face. He dragged his feet on the carpet as he went along—this was a new habit of his that he liked doing whenever he had nothing on his feet. The carpet was so soft; his mother vacuumed it twice a week and she made sure that none of them walked on it with dirty shoes or socks on their feet. He had just stopped in front of the closed bathroom door when the door opened; Hazaar limped out of the bathroom heavily a second later.

"Regretting that mad dash to the bathroom yet?" Lazeer asked mockingly. Hazaar glared at him then limp-walked past him. He went down the hall, towards his bedroom; he slammed the door to his room, which was left open, after entering the room.

"Hazaar? Lazeer? Guyunis? Whoever it is that's slamming the doors up there you need to stop and now." Lazeer thought he heard his mother say a few seconds later.

He spent all of five minutes in the bathroom; his bladder was emptied, his teeth were brushed, and some cold water was thrown on his face.

He wished that the face that he saw in the medicine cabinet's mirror would go away. He didn't like the look of his face now—it almost looked like something one would see in a nightmare! The face that was in the mirror was multi-colored; the right side was its normal, periwinkle-blue color while the left side was a combination of periwinkle-blue, a charcoal-gray, that was nearly black, and dark red. Most of the two, latter colors were focused around his photo sensitive left eye. From the left side of his forehead on down to his left cheek, his flesh was a dark, charcoal-gray color; the diagonal gash that went across his photo sensitive eye was an ugly, dark red color. The left side of his forehead, and his left cheek, wasn't bruised before he went to the second-held Oktoberfest funfair—he had that damn Oktoberfest guard to thank for the bruising that he had to his face. If that guard hadn't of slammed him face-first into a dumpster, his face wouldn't be this badly bruised.

With the first half of his morning routine finished, he noticed that the left side of his face had a painful throb to it. He grabbed and then swung the door to the medicine cabinet open then reached in for the bottle of Aleve, that was on the medicine cabinet's top shelf. He unscrewed the cap that was on the bottle then took one of the round, blue pills out of the container. The bottle of Aleve was returned to the shelf that it was retrieved from afterwards.

He downed the Aleve quickly then glanced around the bathroom. There were two, stainless steel towel rails beside the medicine cabinet; the boxes that were on them contained all of the stuff that Hazaar used on his hair. The copper-plated toothbrush holder, that was under the medicine cabinet, had six toothbrushes in it. The toothbrush that on the left side of the toothbrush holder, the one that was closest to the wall, was his mother's—it was purple and white. The toothbrush that was in front of his mother's belonged to Bile—it was blue and white; the neck was flexible. Lhaklar's rubber handled, green-colored toothbrush should of been in front of Bile's, but it wasn't; Hazaar's normal, red-colored toothbrush was in its place. On the right side of the toothbrush holder, in the slot that was closest to the wall, that Hazaar's toothbrush was usually kept in, was Lhaklar's toothbrush. His yellow-colored toothbrush, which had a curved handle, was in front of Lhaklar's toothbrush, and Guyunis's red and black toothbrush was in front of his.

There was a cup on the right side of the sink; a soap tray, that had a green bar of soap on its surface, was above that. Beside the cup, there was a half-spent tube of fresh mint toothpaste. The toilet had a decorative floral seat and lid on it; there was a light brown rug in front of the toilet. The mat that was in front of the bathtub matched the rug that was in front of the toilet. The curtain that was on the bathtub's curtain rod was a medium-brown color—that was the last thing that he looked at before leaving the room.

"Either it's morning hair or you've just had an encounter with Big Bro Bile." Lazeer said when he saw that Guyunis was coming down the hall, towards the very bathroom that he had just left. While Guyunis looked ready for the morning, his long, shiny, black hair was a tangled and knotted up mess.

"Bile's morning noo-k-gie." Guyunis said back. Lazeer struggled to not laugh.

He thought that Bile giving Guyunis a morning noogie was a good thing—the two hadn't talked or regarded one another in a good way for eight straight days, after they got home from the funfair that Mr. Leinart had invited them to. They had, for the most part, been at one another's throats. There was a lot of tension between the two of them and granddad Cheshire was the sole cause for it.

Bile had already been mad after the man assaulted Lhaklar; he snapped and went crazy-mad after the man attacked Guyunis. Bile's fight with Cheshire was correctly done, their mother and Lhaklar had both said so; Bile had only fought Cheshire to protect his younger brothers, and to teach the Little Brother Attacker a lesson on who not to mess with or hurt. Bile was pretty pushy with Guyunis after his fight with Cheshire and, apparently, Guyunis hadn't liked that one bit. Guyunis had done his best to assert himself and he had also done his best to defend himself when Bile lunged at or shoved him. Bile and Guyunis had actually gotten into a big, physical brawl eighteen hours after they returned from the fair; since their mother wasn't at home at the time, Lhaklar had taken it upon himself to put an end to it. Bile and Guyunis had looked pretty bad afterwards. Their fight had left them all battered and bruised and they were bleeding in numerous places; they had an aversion to one another for seven days afterwards. It looked like they had either forgotten about that aversion or they had done the forgiving thing.

He went back to his room after that short exchange of words were expressed between he and Guyunis; the first thing that his eyes were drawn to was the mounted trophy of the Bat-eared fox, that was at the foot of his bed. He decided to go out for one last hunt two days before his mother made the decision to move the family to Germany. His decision had paid off grandly. He climbed and then hid himself in an Acacia tree one night after spotting two, Bat-eared foxes roaming the area about two miles from the cave that his family had resided in for nearly a month. He waited patiently and quietly for the two foxes that he saw earlier that day to come out from their den; his rear end went numb, and he had collected a lot of Acacia thorns on his arms during that wait, but it was well worth it.

The bigger of the two animals, that came out of the den, had run off after he threw the ground spear that he had with him; he nabbed the smaller animal soon after the other animal ran off. The preserved, Bat-eared fox, that was at the foot of his bed, had tawny-colored fur with large, black ears; the parts of the animal's pointed face were also black, as were the legs. The animal was nearly twenty-two inches long. It stood about two feet up off the floor. The Bat-eared fox's ears were pretty big; they reached a size of over five inches long. The human who preserved the animal for him had said that the animal was a Pleistocene survivor, which he did think was rather cool. The Bat-eared fox was probably the Golden Trophy in his hunting trophy collection. He was rather fond of it.

Surprisingly, the stuffed Opossum, that was preserved with its legs sticking out from its body and with its tail curved in a near question-mark, wasn't damaged after it fell from the piece of driftwood that he nailed above his bed. Before 2050, the Opossum had mostly been found in eastern North America but, over the plague years, where the Opossum's hadn't had to compete for space with the humans, they had migrated and then settled down in the middle and western North American states. He nabbed ten of the animals when he and his family were living in Colorado almost seven months ago. The antler sets that were on the wall beside his bed hadn't fallen at all; he only had two sets of antlers on his wall—both were rather fragile! The antlers that were closest to the corner of the wall belonged to the Sable Antelope—they were a dark tan color; they arched back and had many rings on them. The antler set that was beside them belonged to the Giant Eland—they were V-shaped, light gray in color, and had three or four tight spirals to them. A soft and creamy-colored Fennec fox fur was tacked on the wall between the two antler sets; he actually caught ten of the animals when he and his family were living in Egypt, but he had only thought about collecting and then keeping the fur of one of animals that he caught.

There were only two posters in his bedroom; the one that on the wall, to the right of his closet, had a very busty woman on it. She was wearing a very low-cut bikini top; the g-string, that the woman was also wearing, matched the bikini top. Besides the bikini top and the g-string, the woman also had a pair of high heels on her feet. The woman that was on the poster was sitting on the wing of an airplane that was flying above New York City. She had a 1950's hairdo; her lips were all puckered up in kiss-mode. The other poster, which was on the back of his bedroom door, had a ship on it that was being torn to pieces by a massive Giant Squid. His mom gave him the Giant Squid poster as a late-birthday present.

He took all of this in quickly then went towards the two-shelf, dark cherry bookcase, that was to the right of his bedroom door. The cage that was on top of the bookcase was one of them glass, exo terra types that had front opening doors and a ventilated screen top. He pushed the button that was on the far side of the light fixture, which had a UVB bulb in it, to the ON-position then he did the same with the switch that was on the heat lamp's electrical cord. He then dropped to his knees to turn the two heat mats, that were under the two, dome-topped cages, that were on the bookcase's two shelves, on. The UVB light fixture, that he just turned on, hadn't come with the bulb in it; he had to buy it separately. Both the fixture and the bulb had cost him €10; the heat lamp fixture, that was in front of the UVB light, had cost him just €5. The bulb that was in the heat lamp fixture was a normal, 40-watt white bulb. He had gotten it from the box of light bulbs that were in the downstairs closet. The UVB light and the heat lamp fixtures were centered on the glass, exo terra cage's ventilated top. He had just turned the heat mat that was under the first dome-topped cage on when he felt something soft and fluffy brush up against the heel of his left foot. He was about to turn around to see what it was that was brushing up against him when Guyunis poked his head into his bedroom.

"Tryin' to steal my ca-k-t?" Guyunis asked after noticing that Sabine, his two month and five day old kitten, was in his bedroom.

"No," Lazeer answered. He turned the second heat mat on then stood up and turned around.

He didn't mind that the kitten was walking around in his room; after she started walking around real good, they decided that, as long as she didn't leave any presents for them to find in any of the rooms that she ventured into, and as long as she didn't use anything that was in the house as a scratching post, and as long as she didn't pester or try to make the other pets that were in the house her snacks, she would be allowed to have free roam of the house. Guyunis's kitten was sniffing around the preserved Bat-eared fox that was in front of his bed—she looked downright puny next to the fox!

"Have you fed her yet?" Lazeer asked after the kitten moved away from his preserved fox. He kicked the pile of clothes, that he simply threw on the floor last night, after he changed into his night clothes, as he walked over to his bed. He dropped to his knees then reached under the bed for the pair of shoes that he threw under it the night before.

"No, was heading-k down to do tha-k-t when Bile ran up and grabbed me from behind." Guyunis replied as Lazeer pulled his multi-brown and gray shoes out from under the bed. Lazeer slid his socks, and then his shoes, on his feet quickly then looked up at Guyunis. He noticed that Guyunis's hair wasn't a tangled or knotted up mess anymore; Guyunis's long, black hair was back in order again. He had either run a comb or a brush through it after he went into the second floor's bathroom. "He jus-k-t grabbed me and started knucklin' my head."

"Made you go from being the lovely male model that you are into being a mad scientist who just got through toying around with a wall outlet." Lazeer clamped his mouth shut after he said that—his mouth had just run off on him on that one. He tied the dark gray laces of his shoes tightly then stood up; his mouth betrayed him a few seconds later—it seemed like he couldn't control it that morning. "I shudder at the thought of how many Hamsters mom will find in the bathroom sink when she gets home. With you and Hazaar hogging the bathroom to yourselves—"

"Yeah, there may be a black and purple colored hairball in the drain." Guyunis said. He smiled then he and Lazeer broke out in a laughing fit that lasted for all of two minutes.

They laughed then clamped their mouths shut; Guyunis walked into his youngest brother's room then started doing as he always did afterwards. Lazeer, sometime after they got settled in the house, started hanging the plane and flying dinosaur models that he completed from the room's ceiling. He wrapped a short length of twine around the completed models' middles then he glued one of the ends of the twine to the ceiling; there was maybe a foot or two of space between each of the models that were hanging from the room's ceiling.

Guyunis tapped the Revell model, 172 Arado Ar555 German Jet Bomber Plane lightly then he pushed the model of the German JU-88G-6 plane—the later, of which, was given a nice, white-leopard paint-job while the former was painted a plain, normal camouflage color. A skeletal Pterodactyl model hung from the ceiling two feet from where them two model planes were; there was a silver painted, Pterodactyl flying-wing aircraft model hanging near the skeletal Pterodactyl model and, beside that, was a Flying Tiger sharkmouth P-40 model plane.

Guyunis tapped or lightly pushed each of the models before turning around; the corner desk that was on the room's left side, in the lower corner, had three shelves above it. The bottom shelf had either new or used model paints, paint thinner, and napkins on it while the top shelf had two mason jars on it that were half-full of water; the paintbrushes that were in the mason jars had either been placed in the jars to soak overnight or they were just plain soaking in-wait until their next use. The middle shelf had a WWII German Battle Cruiser Scharnhorst model on it; Lazeer had started putting that baby together on the 20th of October. Not only did it look complete but it also looked like it needed a new home. The shelf that it was on was much too short for it. The desk had a semi-complete Viking Long boat in a bottle on it; Lazeer seemed to be taking his time in putting that model together. He purchased that model earlier that week, before the snow started to fall.

The lederhosen-wearing teddy bear that his brother purchased at the funfair that they attended on the 23rd was pinned to the wall, beside the shelf that had the battle cruiser on it. Guyunis had no idea where the peasant hat or the plastic, heart-shaped cookie that his brother had also purchased at the Oktoberfest funfair was. He figured that they were either in a box in Lazeer's closet or under Lazeer's bed.

"What's going on downstairs?" Lazeer asked after Guyunis finished his routine of pushing or tapping the models that were hanging from his bedroom ceiling. Guyunis turned to look at his brother; he was silent for a second or two before answering the question that he was just asked.

"Lhaklar's down in the ki-k-tchen," Guyunis replied. "Mum left a no-k-te saying for one of us to finish the chili that she started making-k before leaving-k to go to work."

"Ma's not in the kitchen?" Lazeer looked at Guyunis hard; he could of swore he heard his mother earlier.

"No, she's at work." Guyunis answered. "Lhaklar found her unfinished chili in the microwave; he's finishing-k it up. He's making-k a thing of bacon too."

"Chili and bacon for breakfast? Someone call an insane asylum, Lhaklar's gone over the deep end!" Guyunis chuckled then went towards his cat. He scooped Sabine up from the floor then left the room.

The decision to let his pet frogs and salamanders wake up before feeding them was an automatic one; after bringing them home, he put himself on a strict schedule on when to feed them and on what type of insect they were to be fed in the morning and then in the evening. He took right good care of them. He was happy to see that they were all thriving in his care.

Lazeer left his bedroom. He went down the second floor's hallway then came close to tripping after he started going down the stairs that led down to the house's first level. With his now knowing that his mother wasn't home, he figured that Bile was hogging the living room tv while Lhaklar was manning the stove. The two had been doing this for the past four days; he figured that they'd be doing the same on this day too. He figured that Hazaar would spend some time in his room, tending his pet turtles, and maybe listening to half of one of his CDs, before coming down for breakfast—this routine of his brother's was done for the last eight days. He also figured that Guyunis and he would just sit at the kitchen table, facing the sliding glass patio door.

He was swimming between being awake and still being asleep when his fist pistoned out to smash his old kiddie alarm clock so, he hadn't really heard anything that the guy on the radio had said. Seeing as his mother was out of the house so early again, he figured that it was still snowing outside—except for taking either him or one of his brothers to the doctor, or to the hospital, she wouldn't be out of the house this early for any other reason. He hadn't really slept as well as he usually did the night before—with a rather bad earthquake happening right when he and his family sat down to eat supper, and with another following almost immediately after it, his nerves were next to shot.

Before the first earthquake happened, a great, rumbling sound was heard. They found themselves as being flung from the chairs that they had just sat in after that rumbling sound was heard. Everything went black outside; the full moon had turned into a big, blood-red thing; and the stars disappeared. Thunder had cracked, lightning had swung from cloud to cloud in yellow, white, purple, blue, and red hues, and an acidic rain had fallen as the ground started to sway back and forth. They heard a series of crackings and poppings for all of five minutes then everything went silent; the blood-red moon disappeared after everything stopped shaking. The area where he and his family had picked to reside in was plunged into total darkness after the earthquake stopped. None of them had moved or said a word until the lights came back on.

Supper wasn't eaten last night; none of them felt like eating after the first earthquake happened. Fifteen minutes after that first earthquake, another earthquake happened—that one was enough to make him piss his pants.

The house had almost sounded like it wanted to fall apart around them. There were all sorts of noises going on around them and there was a nice light show going on outside to give them an idea of what the landscape around them was doing. The snow that was on the ground had all melted and the moisture from the melted snow had evaporated almost at once, so everything outside was covered in a thick vapor. Thunder cracked ominously overheard, the ground cracked open in places in the streets, and several craters opened up in the neighbors' yards. Everyone on their street, and probably in their subdivision, and, probably, all over Germany, had raced out of their homes after that earthquake ended. The moon returned an hour later; it was a blood-red color for all of fifteen minutes before returning to its normal, white color. The stars returned to their usual places in the sky twenty minutes after the moon resurfaced. He and his family went to bed at 1:10 a.m.; his broken nerves had made sleep quite difficult. Thanks to his nerves, he had broken sleep.

"Yeah, ma! I'm fine, didn't sleep well but you know how that goes. I don't think anyone in the house, or in the houses around us, slept well last night..." Lazeer found himself feeling surprised over the fact that Bile was sitting in the chair that he always sat in when they ate their meals at the table. His oldest brother had the cordless phone in his hand; he'd periodically move the phone from his left elongated ear to his mouth. "It's still snowing outside, and there's good cover out, I was wondering if I could get permission from you to head out and—... uh-huh... with a friend of mine... Angus; he's pretty cool, you know... well, when I called him, he said he was about to head out with some of his friends. They've got some boards and some BB's that they're planning on using, I was wondering if I could join them."

While he thought that Bile's action of grabbing the phone to make a call so early in the morning was weird, he thought that Bile's interest in wanting to go out when it was snowing as badly as it currently was was even weirder. He wanted nothing to do with whatever his older brother was cooking up in that strange brain of his; after Hazaar took over the upstairs bathroom, Bile came down to use the downstairs bathroom. He grabbed and then gave Guyunis a noogie right after coming out from the bathroom. Guyunis had just been walking past the bathroom when he was grabbed. After Guyunis was noogied, Bile went into the living room to call one of the humans that he chummed with from time to time. His brother and this kid named Angus something-or-another had talked for a short while then he hung up; Bile hadn't bothered in heading up to his room to put some day clothes on—he dialed their mother's cellular number right after he and his chummy ended their conversation.

He was slightly embarrassed at the moment; Bile was wearing what he called his "night clothes"—a white t-shirt, that was more than two times his size, and that's shoulders were all ripped up, and a pair of red and white striped boxer shorts, that went down to his skeleton knees. Thanks to the manner of how the shirt was being worn, some of Bile's skeletal, right shoulder could be seen. After grabbing and then dialing his chum's number, Bile paced back and forth in front of the living room windows; everyone who was outside at the time was able to see him and his "night clothes" pretty clearly. Lhaklar hoped that, if there was anyone outside at the time, they weren't able to see much. Having his brother walking around inside when the drapes were pulled while wearing such attire was one thing; his brother pacing in front of a pair of open windows was quite another—his jaw had come close to dropping from his face after he saw that his brother pacing about in the open-windowed living room while wearing his night clothes. Lhaklar made himself a bowl of the chili that his mother started making before leaving the house to go to work; he threw a handful of crushed crackers, and a slice or two of cheese on top of the chili before grabbing four slices of bacon from the plate that had nearly twenty slices of bacon on it. After collecting his breakfast, he went to the dining room table. He sat down then started to eat.

Lazeer went to the stove after Lhaklar sat at the table. He made himself a plain bowl of chili then grabbed two slices of bacon. Guyunis placed his kitten on the floor then went to make his own bowl of chili. He poured himself a medium-sized bowl of chili then, after giving it a little thinking-over, he went over to the cabinet that the chip bags were in. He took the bag that had the regular Lays potato chips in it down from the cabinet then opened it; a handful of the potato chip were taken from the bag then thrown into his chili. He rolled the bag's top down then placed the bag back in the cabinet that he had gotten it from afterwards. Lhaklar shook his head a few seconds later, when he saw Guyunis crumble the three slices of bacon that he just picked up from the bacon plate into pieces. Guyunis sprinkled the pieces of crushed bacon over the potato chips that he threw on his chili then picked his bowl up.

"One would normally put cracker crumbs or cheese in their chili, Bro." Lhaklar said after Guyunis sat in the chair that he usually sat in when he ate his meals. Guyunis stirred the potato chips and bacon bits around in his bowl for a second or two before scooping a large spoonful up; Lhaklar shook his head then went back to eating his own breakfast after his brother placed the spoonful of chili in his mouth.

"Coming down like crazy out there," Lazeer said after sitting in the chair that he usually sat in when he ate his meals at the table. Thanks to the heavily falling snow, it was hard to see the semi-circle of Guayacan trees that were in the backyard; Lazeer had a feeling that the snow was pretty deep.

"Cold, too." Lhaklar said. "Last I checked, it was nearly fifteen degrees outside."

"Dude! Seriously?" Guyunis exclaimed.

"Yes and Numbnuts wants to go out in it." Lhaklar knocked his elbow into Bile's ribs. Bile did nothing in return; he just continued the conversation that he and their mother were having.

He finished his "strange" breakfast of chili and bacon then went back to his room. He passed by Hazaar while on his way. Neither spoke to one another; Hazaar was one of them types of people who preferred to be left alone in the mornings and he was also one of them types of people who were quiet during the first hour or two after waking up—he was also plain ornery in the morning. One really had to watch his step around him during the early morning hours. Lazeer went into his bedroom; he stopped for only a second to take in his room before going towards the exo terra cage that was on his two-shelf bookcase.

The exo terra cage, that was on the bookcase's top, had a natural rock background on it that he actually stole from one of the pet stores that were in town. He was in need of a natural background for the cage but he hadn't had the money available for the thing—the background had a price tag of €25.98 on it, which he thought was ridiculous. He sent it, and several other things that he decided to "steal" from the pet store that he went in, home by saying one of the spells that would make it disappear from the hook that it was on; the natural rock background was in his room, waiting for him, afterwards. There were three, bend-a-branch decorations in the cage; two of them were pinned between the sides of the cage by the suction cups that came with them while the third was twisted down, so it draped down to the cage's dirt substrate. There was a fake Amapolla plant, that had also come with a suction cup attachment, hanging over the bend-a-branches; a series of vines hung from the cage's top—two of his frogs were sitting on them. The cage's bottom had a layer of dirt on it; there were two, grape driftwood ornaments resting on the dirt substrate. A large, rainforest leaf water dish was between them. There were two dials on the right side of the cage that were right important—they told him what the temperature and humidity levels were in the cage. Like the cage's background, he actually stole the temperature and humidity gauges after seeing that the price tag had €15 on it. Like the cage's rock background, they were waiting in his bedroom after he did the spell to make them disappear from the hook that they were on in the pet store that he went in.

There were five, Theloderma corticale's, or Vietnamese mossy frogs, in the cage. They were all doing well; one of the frogs gave him a scare earlier that month—it went on a hunger strike for all of three days before eating again. According to the book that he took out from the local Elchesheim-Illingen library, the cage's frogs required a temperature of 68 to 76 degrees; they needed a humidity level of 70 to 80% and they also liked to be sprayed once or twice a day to remain happy and healthy in their captive environment. The book had also said that the frog species that he brought home was a semi-aquatic one; he checked into that by putting a small bowl of water in their cage for a few days. They ignored the water so he took the bowl out of their cage. After doing that, he noticed that the four frogs that continued to eat, and that continued being active during the day and night hours, were spending a lot of time in the smaller water dish that he originally put in the cage. He swabbed the smaller water dish for the bigger one that was currently in the tank. The four frogs that he had frequently seen taking dips in the smaller water dish hadn't changed their water dish soaking habits. He was giving his frogs calcium dusted crickets and dubia roaches every day and he made sure to also leave a bowl of calcium dusted worms in the cage during the night; all of the frogs that were in the cage were eating whatever he threw in the cage. Curiously, the one frog that stopped eating earlier that month only to resume eating three days after he stopped eating seemed to not like soaking in the water dish like his cagemates did.

From what he could tell, he had two males in the cage. Two of the three female frogs were pretty big—they were three inches long. The smaller of the females was nearly that size. The two males were two and a half inches long. All of the frogs that were in the cage were a mottled green and brown color; their mossy-looking skin helped them blend in with their surroundings. None of the frogs had names—since they were all so similar to one another, he decided to forgo naming them.

"Hey guys," he said to the frogs as he opened the cage's front doors. "Who's hungry?"

He threw in two handfuls of calcium dusted crickets then closed the cage's front doors; as the Mossy frogs were eating their breakfast, he went to feed his other pets. He pulled the cage that was on the shelf that was under the Mossy frogs' own off the bookcase; this dome-topped, plastic cage was pretty long and deep. It had a layer of condensation on its sides, which meant that the cage was a bit too humid inside. Lazeer placed the cage on the floor; he sat cross-legged in front of it then started to undo the latches that were on the sides of the cage's dome top. Heat and moisture rose out of the cage after the top was removed. Only one of the three animals that were in the cage was out and about.

The cage had a fine layer of soil substrate and moss on its bottom. There was a water dish in the center of the cage; there were several, fake plants and a hide on one side of the cage. The cage's other side was bare of any decoration. The one amphibian that was walking about in the cage was about eight inches long; the animal seemed to be evenly divided in color. Its head, legs, feet, and tail were orange. It had an orange line going down the center of its back; there was a line of orange dots going down the length of both of the animal's sides. The rest of the animal was black. Lazeer picked the cage's hide up; as he had expected, the other two amphibians were under it. Lazeer placed the hide back down, so not to stress the two animals that were stirred after he picked it up. The three amphibians that were in the cage were actually not salamanders at all—they were newts or, more specifically, Emperor Newts. Lazeer gave the one animal that was out, in the open, three calcium dusted dubia roaches, then two, wine-colored, soft moist bits, before throwing in two handfuls of calcium dusted crickets. He put the cage's top back on after feeding the three newts; the vents that were in the cage's top were opened slighty before it was returned to the bookcase's first shelf.

The cage that was on the bookcase's next shelf that was taken down next.

"Went to Spain to find these babies," Lazeer said as he undid the latches that were on the sides of the top of the second dome-topped, plastic cage. "Spent all day throwing aside logs, and checking under rocks, and I came close to getting bit by a snake to find a pair of these. Time well spent, in my opinion."

The cage that he took from the last shelf of the two-shelf bookcase was set-up much like that of the Emperor Newts's cage except for one thing: there was a larger water bowl in it that was pretty deep. The salamanders—actual salamanders, not newts that looked like salamanders but actual salamanders—that were in this cage did like to take lengthy soaks in water and he had made that possible for them in captivity by giving them a large and deep water bowl. The soil and moss substrate was deep, but it wasn't deep enough for the two salamanders to fully bury themselves in. The plants were the same ones that the Emperor Newts had in their cage; the cage also had a hide in it. Both of the salamanders were out and about; they were looking around almost like they knew it was time for them to be fed. The salamanders that were in the cage were of a special species that exhibited unique markings; Salamandra salamandra bernardezi, as the two salamanders were called, would start out being mostly black, with thin, yellow stripes and patches, then, as they aged, the yellow markings would grow and the black background between them would shrink. One of the two salamanders was nearly yellow while the other had thin, black patches and stripes between its yellow markings. He had searched almost all day to find a male and a female of the species; the nearly yellow Salamander was the female while the male was the one that had the thin, black patches and stripes. From what he had read on the species, the species gave birth to fully-formed, live young. The male salamander was six and a half inches long while its mate was a full seven inches long.

"I'll be needing a new cage one day if you two do the whoopee," Lazeer said as he gave the two salamanders some soft moist bits; before closing the cage, then putting it back on the shelf that he took it from, he gave the two salamanders some calcium dusted dubia roaches and crickets. He was just putting the cage back on its shelf when Bile walked into his bedroom.

"Hey! Grab your coat and winter wears and fast," Bile said. He had a wide smile spread across his face.

"Why?" Lazeer asked. He stood up after putting the cage that had the two Salamandra salamandra bernardezi salamander's in it back on its shelf.

"Ma gave me permission to hang out with Angus and his friends for a few hours; we're going to ride the boards down some hills then we're going to pop some cans with our BB's." Bile said. He made as to leave Lazeer's bedroom before stopping and then turning back around. "Meet me by the back patio door—ma wants me to bring some of you bed wetters with me."

"Hey! I am not a bed wetter." Lazeer crossed his arms over his chest; he glared as he stuck his lower lip out. "Who's coming with you?"

"Guyunis is in—he wants to go. Not so sure on Lhaklar—he says that he wants to catch up on some zzz's so, he might not come. Hazaar still has that bad limp... his hip still hurts him, but I'll ask him if he wants to come along or not anyways." Bile replied. The wide smile was still on his face.

"So, at the moment, it's just you and Guyunis?" Lazeer asked.

"Yeah, or unless you or Hazaar want to come along too." Bile said.

His action of going towards his closet was enough of an answer for Bile. Bile left his room in a hurry at the same time that he was taking the two flannel shirts—one a blue, the other a red—and his leather shearling sheepskin jacket down from the rod that was underneath the closet's one shelf. With it being nearly fifteen degrees outside, he figured that he'd best bundle up, which meant having more than a plain jacket on. He slid the two flannel shirts on. None of the buttons were missed when he went to button them. He put his sheepskin jacket on next. After those three items were on, he bent down then undid his shoe laces. After kicking his shoes off, he slid an extra pair of socks on, over the ones that were already on his feet. He grabbed his snow boots from his closet next. He was about ready to leave his bedroom when the idea of wearing a toboggan hat came to him. He went to his dresser quickly; he slid the top dresser open then he grabbed the first hat that he saw. He was putting the toboggan hat on when he left his bedroom; he heard Hazaar telling Bile that he didn't want to go out from down the hall as he was walking down the second floor's hallway.

"Enjoy getting a cold or the flu or pneumonia," Hazaar was saying as Bile left his bedroom. "I'll be all nice and warm here while you and whoever else you're dragging along with you catch some winter illness."

"If we catch anything, we'll be sure to pass it off to you." Bile responded. He then went into his bedroom to change out of his night clothes.


	24. Chapter 24

"Whoa, lookit the steam rising up off the snow!" Baruk exclaimed, after taking in the outside world from the open, airlock hatchway doors of his father's ship.

"Look at, not lookit." Kaasa corrected her older brother. Baruk rolled his eyes then started to leave his father's ship. Kaasa, quite as a flash of lightning, lunged at him after he went one step past the airlock hatchway doors. She wrapped her hand around her brother's wrist then tugged him back fiercely. "Dad hasn't said that you can—the steam that's coming up from the snow may be poisonous or something."

"Let go you ijit!" Baruk pulled his wrist from his sister's grasp then tried to leave his father's ship again. Kaasa bolted past him. She stood before him; she refused to let him pass.

"Idiot, not ijit. Dad wouldn't want you using that street lingo." Kaasa said as she put her hands on her hips.

"Will you get out of my way," Baruk barked. He faked to the left then, when Kaasa went that way, he bolted to the right. Kaasa quickly tripped her brother up; she grabbed and then pulled him back into their father's ship, yet again, for the third time that morning. "Kaasa! Dad's got his ship open—he wouldn't have his ship open if that steam was poisonous."

"Dad might be outside, in a suit or something. He might of left the ship open just in case he needed to get back in fast." Kaasa said.

"Dad's inside the ship," Baruk said back. "Or did you not see him as we was walkin' d—"

"Were walking, not was walkin'." for the third time that morning, Baruk found his younger sister correcting what he had said. "And, yes. I saw him. We walked by him on the way to the airlock doors. Just because we saw and then walked by him while on the way to the airlock doors doesn't mean that it's safe to go out."

She could be so annoying, his lil' sis, who would of corrected his using the phrase lil' sis instead of little sister. Her name was KaasaVile Cvina Surfeit; she was the only sister that he had that was close to his age. She sure had an annoying way of trying to keep him grounded... a bit too grounded, if anyone had asked him. Kaasa was named after a much loved aunt of their mother's, who passed away some five thousand years before their births; their father had wanted her to be named Koja or Kaja but their mother had said no.

If anyone had asked him if he thought of his sister as pretty, he would of responded by saying _only moderately so on the ugly scale_ ; in private, he did think that Kaasa was pretty, and why shouldn't she be? She had all right in being pretty, after all. His "lil' sis" had long, dark auburn hair, that had cream-colored strands mixed in for good measure and flavor. Her blue eyes were quite beautiful; they looked out of a purple-colored, teardrop-shaped face. Her skin-tone matched that of her face. She was wearing a right long, purple blouse; there was a pair of black pants on underneath the blouse, a pair of brown snow boots were on her feet. The beige-colored jacket, that had fur on the inside, and a fur collar, was lying on the floor behind them; it was dropped after she lunged at him. She wore no makeup; she wasn't allowed to wear the stuff until she was older. Half of her hair was braided, the rest hung loosely past her shoulders. His sister was two thousand and fifty-one years old; she stood just five foot, three inches.

"Think Bohir and Fleebe are out," Baruk said, after seeing that there were two people walking about, outside of the camp that sat across from his father's own. Baruk looked over at his uncle's camp next; thanks to the steam, he couldn't tell if anyone was out and about in the camp.

"So, that doesn't mean that you or I can go out." Kaasa said.

"Hey! Hey, wait up you guys!" Sudir yelled from the corridor that ran off the ship's main airlock hatchway.

He could of warned his younger brother about Kaasa's antics but, in the end, Kaasa got to Sudir before he could even open his mouth. SudirVile Sorras Surfeit was the baby in the family; at the moment, he was his youngest sibling. He got babied around a lot—although, in sharp contrast, their older brother, Triskull, seemed to be getting a lot more babying than Sudir lately. Sudir looked most like their mother—his skeletal body was a milky-red color; the eyes, that looked out from his eye sockets, were a dark red color. His bi-colored head was the only thing that he had genetically inherited from their father. The left side of his brother's head was red while the right was a golden color. He had no ears, but he did have a pair of fang-like canines on his upper jaw. Sudir was wearing a brown leather jacket over a light brown, everyday coat. There was a dark blue waistcoat on underneath the everyday coat; a white, long sleeve, button down shirt was worn under the waistcoat. Sudir's breeches were light gray in color; they came down to his knees. A pair of white stockings went down to a pair of black shoes, that had large, silver buckles on their sides. His brother was one thousand, nine hundred, and sixty-six years old; he stood six foot, two inches.

Sudir dodged this way and then that way to get past their sister then, when he couldn't get past her, he tried to walk into her in an attempt to make her back off. Kaasa took a step back then stood her ground; when Sudir walked into her, she pushed him back. Sudir went a step back before pushing Kaasa right back. Baruk gave it a serious consideration about joining his two, younger siblings in their push then push back "game" then, after noticing that his sister was busy and wasn't paying any attention to him, he decided to sneak off behind her back. He walked out of the open, airlock hatchway doors silently. He was practically halfway out of his father's camp when Kaasa noticed that he wasn't in their father's ship anymore.

"Baruk! Baruk, come back!" he heard Kaasa yell. He heard the sounds of a fight, then Kaasa was yelling for both he and Sudir to come back to the ship. He walked on, ignoring her pleas and her commands to return to their father's ship. When his sister saw that he and Sudir weren't coming back, she started yelling for their father to come and quickly.

He walked on; finally relieved to be rid of his sister and finally happy to see what the land around him looked like. He and his family, and his uncle and his family, had been on the planet for almost a month now; he was always finding something interesting to look at or play with in the area where the two camps were set-up in. There were several trinkets and "treasures" in the chamber, that was in his father's ship, that he was assigned, that he had plans to take home from his exploratory adventures. His father only knew of his having the Maschinengewehr 34, or the MG 34—a type of German machine gun, that was rather long and light-weight—, but he had other "treasures" in his bedroom chamber that his father would probably not let him keep.

His father, after being shown, and then asked, if he could keep the gun, was more than happy to take the time out to restore it, and to remove the trigger and cartridge compartments. Since the gun was now "child safe", he was allowed to keep and display it. The German double barrel flare gun and this big, long thing, that looked like a club but that was made out of metal instead of wood, were resting safely under the bed of his given chamber. He also had a bucket full of long bullet shells, that had fine points on one of their ends, in the closet of his assigned chamber too. A weird sort of fascination had fallen over him after he came upon the German double barrel flare gun, which wasn't only small but also not intact—the barrel was cracked and half of the pistol's butt was missing. Despite those two issues, he had liked the gun enough to sneak it into his father's ship. The metal, club-like thing was a surprise find; the task of sneaking it into his father's ship wasn't very easy. He hid it under his overcoat; he had a funny little bulge sticking out from the back of his coat when he walked into his father's ship. Regardless of the little bulge, and his off-actions of trying to keep his discovery from being seen, he had managed to sneak it to his chamber with no problems. All of the bullet shells were found at the abandoned gravel pit, that was nearly a mile from his father's camp. Some of the shells were buried under the ground while others had simply been lying about on the ground's surface. He picked each up then, after giving them a good looking-over, he stuffed them in his pockets.

"The gun that you found is probably a relic from one of the wars that happened on this planet," his father had told him, after he asked why the MG 34 gun was left to rot on the ground. "Judging from its make and model, I'm willing to bet that it was used in the second world war."

"What happened in that war? Who started that war? How many wars have happened here?" he asked. He was plenty excited. His father was seated at his usual place at the table; he and his family were eating lunch when he started asking questions about the gun that he found and then about the planet's wars.

"What do you think happened in that war, son? Destruction. Fighting. Just about everything that happens in every war that goes on in the Universe." his father replied. "The second world war was started by a man named Adolf Hitler—he started invading other countries; the allies of them invaded countries grouped up to help their fallen comrades. From what I've read, the war ended with the death of Adolf Hitler—he committed suicide after learning that the allies were closing in on him and that they were also close to winning the war."

"How many world wars have happened here?" he asked.

"Four, now let's choose some other subject to talk about." his father said. His father had refused to tell him more on the planet's wars afterwards.

In comparison to his limited knowledge on the planet's wars, he knew quite a lot about the area where his father and uncle, and now his grandfather and his grandfather's great-uncle, Trobrencus, had set camp up in. The area where their camps were in was called the Rastatter Rheinaue, which was once a flood plain until 1817, when a human engineer named Johann Gottfried Tulla was hired to straighten and tame the Rhine river down. From what his uncle had told him, Mr. Tulla had worked from 1817 to 1876 on the river, making it go from being a relatively sluggish, meandering river, with major and many smaller branches, into a fast flowing river flanked with dams; the water sources that were all given the name of Altrhein had once been apart of the Rhine river. Johann Gottfried Tulla had left some of the cut-off river arms intact after he straightened the river. The area where their camps were in was declared as being a conservation area on April 4, 1975 and then, on February 8, 1984, it was set-up as a nature reserve.

Buried deep underneath the snow and ice was a thin layer of gravel; before it started to snow, there were grass shoots growing in-between the gravel. There was a low, grassy knoll between his father's and his uncle's camps; it had one, lone tree on it. The river that ran behind his uncle's camp was one of the old river arms of the Rhine river that Johann Gottfried Tulla left intact; the humans in the area called all of the cut-off, intact river arms by the same name: the Altrhein. There was a short patch of low shrubs, that were thickly thorned, in front of that cut-off river arm; he was pricked by several of the shrubs' thorns when he decided to try to walk through them to see what was on their other side. The area that was to the left and right of his uncle's ship was wildly overgrown with tall trees, wild-growing bamboo, and bushes.

The area where his uncle's camp was in was very different than the area where his father's camp was in. There was a large lake behind his father's ship that the humans called the Bärensee or the Bear Lake; a small stream that the humans called the Gäns-Rhein ran behind the Bärensee. His father's camp was set-up between the Bärensee and a shallow, unnamed brook. All of these water sources had swelled up, over their banks after his father set his ship down; instead of moving camp, his father gave the order for his staff to drain the area of its excess water. There was a small area of low-growing bushes and second-growth trees between his father's ship and Bear Lake; the area that was to the right of his father's camp was heavily overgrown with dead raspberry bushes and bamboo. There was a lot of flowers bobbing in that same area but, once the snow started to fall, they, and the raspberry bushes, died off. The area that was to the left of his father's camp had low cactus and sharp, jagged rocks in it.

The gravel that went around the grassy knoll came to about fifty yards of the Bärensee; there were several beaten and gravel-covered paths leading away from the gravel area where his father and uncle, and now his grandfather and Trobrencus, had landed their ships on. The beaten and gravel-covered paths led into the forests that were on either side of the gravel lot; he had walked down a few of them. The abandoned gravel pit, where he found the bullet shells at, was at the end of one of the beaten paths.

"Is it hot?" Sudir asked after coming upon his brother, who was picking a handful of snow up.

"No," Baruk was amazed at how cold the snow was. He was curious about the snow and he wanted to know if the snow, where the steam was coming up from, was hot or not. He had expected for the handful of snow, that he picked up, to burn his hand; he found that the handful of snow was a normal, freezing cold temperature instead. "It's freezing!"

"The snow wasn't steaming yesterday," Sudir said. He knelt down to examine the area where the snow that his brother was holding had come from. He placed his hand into the steamy snow, kept it there for a few seconds, then withdrew it. "Strange, it's warm under the top layer but—"

"If I were you two, I'd watch my footing." Sudir and Baruk both looked up.

To their collective surprise, they saw that Triskull was in the area. He was leaning against the now snow-covered knoll's lone tree. Baruk squinted to get a better look at his brother; he saw that Triskull was wearing a blue jean jacket, that had spikes on the shoulders and wrists, and, quite shockingly, it looked like his brother was smoking something. There was a light tan stick in his brother's hand from which a trail of smoke was coming from. Triskull had shown up in his father's camp seven and a half days ago, after their father went to pay him a visit. His brother must of been in a fight recently—he had a lot of bruises, cuts, and scratches on his face. One of his horns had a slight crack in it as well. Despite all of them face-wounds, his brother looked to be in good health. Baruk only knew the basics for why his older brother had come to reside in their father's camp; a few hours after his father and brother appeared in camp, he overheard his father telling his mother that Triskull might have a son on the planet.

"What was that, Brother?" Sudir asked Triskull.

"I said, you two best watch where you put your feet." Triskull said, a little louder this time. "There's cracks underneath the snow, compliments of Trobrencus's arrival."

"Really? Cool!" Sudir exclaimed. He bent down again. He began to dig right where a drift of steam was coming up from the snow. He pulled back with a hiss nearly a minute later.

"I wouldn't if I were you—that steam's hot enough to burn flesh from bone." Triskull warned. Baruk's eyes went wide as he watched his brother draw the light tan stick to his lips. Triskull took a drag from the stick; a jet of gray smoke was exhaled from his nostrils a second later. The smoke drifted up and then around Triskull's face immediately after being exhaled; it gave his brother a rather menacing look. Baruk was about to ask his brother when he started smoking when a feminine voice was heard from behind him.

"TriskullVile Vuupipii Surfeit, when and where in the Universe did you pick up such a bad habit?"

That voice held all the power and authority in the Universe for them; Baruk and Sudir stood straight up—they knew the owner of the voice well. They felt no fear towards the one who spoke behind them. The only reason why they had straightened their postures was because they didn't want to attract the owner of the voice's attention. The owner of the voice, their own mother, walked by them without giving them so much as a passing look. She went straight over to Triskull then, as they had both expected her to do, she began to fuss and fret over him. Triskull stopped leaning against the tree; he stood up then he did something that made Baruk and Sudir gasp out in shock. Triskull held the cigarette, that he had in his hand, up, out of their mother's reach. He then told her to simply bug off... in the nicest of ways, of course. If Triskull would of gone on to say bug off to their mother in exactly that fashion, both Baruk's and Sudir's jaws would of dropped to the snow.

Their mother, Irka Surfeit, née Shaiden, was a pureblood Sketon—a skeletal formed species in the Universe that was typically short in stature. Her body was fully skeletal in appearance; the bones that were in her body were either dark purple or black. She had no eyes whatsoever in her eye sockets and she had no viewable ears on her head. Their mother's long, blue, crystal-like hair went down to her waist. Their mother was wearing a brown coat that had a huge, dark brown, fur collar and cuffs; the purple dress, that she had on underneath the coat, was tight around her breasts. There was a white belt around the waist of her dress that had spiked studs on it; the black heeled boots, that their mother had on her feet, had spikes on their sides. The coat that their mother was wearing wasn't zipped so both he and his brother could see the indentation of her breasts, which poked out like pyramids; while he and his brother agreed that their mother's pyramid-like breasts made her skeletal appearance looked somewhat odd, they would never in their right minds say that out loud. Their mother had a purple diamond ring on the ring finger of her left hand; the purple diamond in the ring was surrounded by a row of normal diamonds. Their mother also had a pewter banded ring, that had a large, burgundy, Swarovski crystal in its center, on the index finger of the same hand.

"Triskie, enough now, drop the cigarette. You know they do nothing but bad to one's health." Irka said when her secondborn son continued to hold the cigarette out of her reach.

"At the moment, I disagree with you." Triskull said. He lowered the cigarette to his lips. He practically finished the cigarette in one, long, drag.

"Just because you found that you may have a son out there doesn't mean that you can go and pick up bad habits." Irka said. She practically leaped at her son. Triskull finished the cigarette quickly then tossed its remains behind him. "Good, now where's the rest of them?" Irka began to poke and prod at the pockets of her son's blue jeans and jean jacket.

"Had only one on me," Triskull said. "Might have some hidden somewhere in the ship, though."

"I'll be sure to have your father find and then confiscate each and every one." Irka said. She tapped Triskull's bruised and cut cheek then turned towards Baruk and Sudir. "And what are you two up to at this hour?"

"Nothing," Sudir said quickly.

"Just checking the snow out." Baruk said.

"Stay away from the steamy areas," Irka said to her two, younger sons sternly. When her husband and youngest daughter walked up, she went towards them. Baruk heard his mother tell his father about her finding Triskull with a cigarette, his father said that he'd do his best to find the smokes in return.

They had been married a long time—his oldest brother was fifty years old when the two did the nuptial thing. Despite being married for over a hundred thousand years, they still had a great fondness for one another. While they tried to keep their little affections down, when they were in front of him and his siblings, they still acted affectionate towards one another. He had caught them being affectionate to one another "in private" from time to time; most of the time, they just hugged and kissed. He had once caught his mother caressing his father's arms and shoulders as well. On the two times that he came upon the two "dirty talking" one another, his tongue came close to dropping from his mouth; he had heard a lot of things come out from their mouths that still confused and shocked him to that day.

One his age would be quite surprised over finding that he had only a basic understanding on what went on in the bedroom; this basic understanding came from what he saw one night when he was a young kid. He went into his parents' bedroom chamber then found that his father was lying on top of his mother. The only thing that they were doing on that one time when he walked in on them doing "the deed" was kissing. He was thrown out of their room right after he stepped in. They hadn't bothered in telling him what they were doing, even though he had asked. He found out through a classmate sometime later about what they were doing.

"Sex. They were having sex." his classmate, a kid named Whodzin Bolaji, said.

"What's sex?" he asked.

"It's an act done between two adults—usually male and female, but the same gender can do it too." Whodzin replied.

"How's it done?"

"The male, or dominant partner, gets on top of the female, or submissive partner." Whodzin started to explain. They were studying for a test, that was scheduled to be given out the next day, when he asked if his classmate knew what his parents were doing in their bedroom chamber. "The male or dominant partner just lies on the female or submissive partner. They kiss then they separate."

"That's it?" although he had a feeling that sex involved more than just kissing, he had sort of believed what he was told. "How do babies get made if that's all there is to sex?"

"When the two partners start to kiss, the male will use his tongue to deposit an egg on the female's tongue. The female swallows the egg, the baby forms in the female's belly afterwards. Babies can only be made when a male and a female are present." Whodzin answered. They went gone back to studying for their test.

Whodzin Bolaji had also said that, if a man and a woman didn't want to have children, they "tied" their tongues to the roofs of their mouths to prevent any swallowing and egg depositing. The "pill" that women took—the ones that the doctors all claimed aided in pregnancy prevention—were nothing more than sexual enhances. A woman took the "pill" to increase her sexual performance.

Kaasa, Baruk noticed, looked as if she was given more than one chiding after he and Sudir left their father's ship. She had one hell of an angry look on her face; she looked downright poutish, and there was no mistaking them tear trails that ran down from the corners of her eyes. Baruk figured that his father had given her a good chiding after she ran her mouth off at him or something; his father was a cool guy and he did love him dearly, like he thought he should, but, regardless of how much he loved and respected him, he was still careful around him. His father did have them moments where he could be a little too rough and mean. Discipline in their house was only given when it was needed; it was usually he and Sudir that got disciplined, but Kaasa had her moments too. Baruk was about to say hello to his father when he heard someone yell from behind him. He turned around; Triskull looked to be fine so he looked past Triskull and saw... Baruk felt his throat close a little when he saw that his grandfather walking towards him and his family.

Of all the members in his immediate family there was only one that he was terrified of and that was his grandfather. The man seemed to have discipline and firm control heavy on the brain; if someone so much as took a step in the wrong direction, or said something wrong, he or she would hear a battery of harsh words or feel a hand or worse, a stick or belt, slap up against their bodies. His grandfather claimed that he loved his family—the man claimed that he held everyone in his family highly—but he was very hard with everyone, which seemed to contradict his claim. How could someone love another when he or she was dishing out daily abuse, either physically or verbally? His grandfather was a very well-known man; besides having several galaxies in his control, he was also known to of gone into hiding for nearly a hundred thousand years, after one of his enemies came close to killing him. His grandfather, The Great DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit, returned to the known Universe in 1998, after hearing that someone within the family was giving the family grief. While Baruk didn't know the full details on what happened between his family and the woman who gave them grief for so long, he did know the identity of the woman. Her name was Angel Irene; she happened to be his uncle's and his oldest brother's wife, and she was the reason for why he and his family were on this alien world. She and them four sons of hers had escaped again.

"Hey," KurukVile said after his father walked up, onto the snow-covered knoll. DuruVile stopped long enough to give Triskull a passing glance then walked on towards Baruk, Sudir, Irka, Kuruk, and Kaasa.

"Hey yourself, I am not a horse nor do I eat hay." DuruVile spat. Baruk shoved his elbow into Sudir's side. Sudir had started to giggle.

"How's Tula and Rubacon?" KurukVile asked his father.

"Far as I can tell, they're fine. They're roosting in separate chambers in Tazir's ship." DuruVile replied.

"Separate? They breaking up?" Irka asked.

"Might be," DuruVile answered. "That dark-skinned fellow has them at each other's throats. Rubacon swears he's not the kid's father; Tula claims that they won't be doing anything together as husband and wife until a DNA test is done to prove that the guy isn't his son."

"Pardon? That dark-skinned fellow is my son's son, how'd they find out about—"

"I showed them the drawing that you sent me, son." DuruVile said. He shrugged his shoulders when KurukVile gave him a sharp look. "Who says that Rubacon isn't the kid's father? The person in that drawing looks strikingly like him."

"His name's Numbskull," KurukVile relayed. "I heard Bile call—"

"Just because the guy's name is similar to your son's name doesn't make him your son's son." DuruVile said back, this was the second time that he had interrupted his oldest son.

"Didn't you have Tula and Rubacon with you when you arrived here? What're they doing residing in Tazir's ship?" Irka asked.

"My ship's right small, if you haven't noticed Irka, my dear daughter-in-law." DuruVile replied. "Tula roomed with Uevaa for the duration of our trip here; Rubacon slept in my ship's living room."

"And Salasari, where's she?" Irka asked.

"With her grandparents—Whosla and Zebyr." DuruVile replied. "Tula didn't want Salasari around; she didn't want her daughter to become upset over their constant bickering."

"They still bickering?" KurukVile asked. He felt a trifle bit offended by his father's action of letting Tula and Rubacon know about the dark-skinned fellow that he saw eight days ago. His father might well of made a fine couple split by his actions.

"According to Tazzy, yeah. Pretty bad." DuruVile replied.

He knew how his father was with the male spouses that his female blood-relatives had married; while his father was relatively placid with the female spouses, he was particularly rude and tempered with the male spouses—his father didn't really like any of the men that his female kin had married, which he thought was funny. He thought that all of the men that his sisters and nieces and great-nieces had gone and married were good, respectful people. They sure worked hard to provide for their families; most of the spouses that his sisters, nieces, and great-nieces went and married did come from peasant backgrounds, but they worked hard and they showed ample amounts of love towards their wives and offspring. If his father didn't like any of the female spouses he kept it to himself—as far as he knew, his father and Irka had a decent relationship between themselves. Tula and Rubacon were in his father's ship after it was landed. Before Trobrencus showed up, they had still been in his father's ship so, they had to of moved residency sometime after Trobrencus's arrival. He hadn't noticed anything amiss with the couple when he went over to see if his father's trip and then landing went well; Tula and Rubacon came out of his father's ship right after it was landed. They looked around then they went right back in.

His father was as cunning as he was smart and he was pretty fast and powerful as well, which made him twice as dangerous. The man stood a good six foot, three inches; he had a lean body build that had good, hard muscle on it. His father's chest, stomach, and back were thick in muscle while his arms and legs were "a tinge" more slender in comparison. One would only have to look at his father's face to know that he was an experienced man—the man's face had a hard and experienced look to it and his glowing green eyes, that had yellow pupils in their centers, also showed that he had seen quite a lot of things in his long life. Like he, his father's head and body was bi-colored, with the left side being silver and the right being black. His father's elongated ears ran the full length of his shoulders; along with being a silver color, that had black, Tiger-like stripes on them. His father had long, black fingernails on each of his fingers. Each fingernail was filed to a sharp point. The teeth that were in his father's mouth were a dark white color, but they were all healthy; he had fang-like canines on his upper and lower jaws.

KurukVile couldn't remember a time when his father hadn't worn something that was snappy or stylish; his father had a strict dress style to him that he did his best to teach to his offspring. His father was wearing a white, long sleeved shirt that had a row of pearl-white buttons going down the front; the red cravat tie, that was around his neck, was tucked into a dark red, tapestry-styled, vest, that had silver buttons going down its front. The knee-high pants, that his father was wearing, matched the vest in color only; the ends of his pants had garter strings around them. A pair of white stockings came down from the pants; they ran into a pair of red leather shoes that had gold buckles on their sides. The last thing that KurukVile took in of his father's attire was the ear adornment that was hanging from his father's left elongated ear.

The piece that was hanging from his father's left ear was an old family heirloom—it was usually passed down from father to firstborn son. His father had tried to give him the piece after he graduated from Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic; he had politely turned him down. The piece that hung from his father's ear was a pretty simple one; it was compromised of just a single gold chain from which a silver ball hung at the end of. The gold chain that had the silver ball on its end hung from a silver stud-plate, that had a rather long finding, that had a silver plug on its opposite end. His father had told him stories on how painful it was when he got his ear pierced—he was a young teenager when that happened, just fresh out of Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. The stories on how painful the piercing was was the main basis for his politely turning his father down on the heirloom; the other reason was based on the pain that he saw in his father's eyes. While the ear-piece wasn't the only thing that he had that reminded him of his sire—he had several other things in his possession that were his father's—, it was a sort of symbolizer for the rich love that he had for his own father.

"Aren't you cold?" Irka asked after noticing that her father-in-law wasn't wearing a coat, or any other cold-weather wears.

"No, been keeping myself moving to stave off the cold." DuruVile replied.

"How's Qeeta?" Irka asked.

"She's fine," DuruVile replied. After landing his ship, then doing all the necessary protocols, he shot across to TazirVile's camp to see how Qeeta was fairing. Qeeta, his sixth-born daughter, was shot in the leg eight days ago. He found her in her assigned bedroom chamber; she was stiff and a little sore in the leg that was shot but she was fine. He was relieved. "She's a bit stiff and sore but she's doing well."

"That's good, what leg was shot again?" Irka turned towards her husband.

"Her left." KurukVile replied. "The bullet barely missing her fibula when it went in."

He could of growled at the mention of where the bullet had entered his daughter's body but, by some miracle, and by quite a lot of restraint, he forced himself to not let it out. Just the idea of seeing or hearing of anything enter into one of his daughters that was harmful infuriated him and boy, when he was told about Qeeta being shot, he had come very near to exploding. Kuruk had told him about Qeeta's gunshot injury seven and a half days ago; with all of what happened in the last seven and a half days, he had just plain forgot about his daughter being shot and wounded. He had just gotten through driving his ship past the Kuiper Belt when Tazir's little radio message of _"everything is fine here; Qeeta's stiff and a little sore from her gunshot wound, and Cheshire's hands are stiff from where Bile burned them, but we're all doing well here"_ reached him; he came very close to letting the wheel of his ship go in his rage and he also came close to hitting the farthest known planet that was in the Milky Way Galaxy after that message came through his radio.

He could care less about that little sissy-boy Cheshire Ubalki; the all-high and mighty farmer and miner that his third ex-wife had gone and married. Cheshire Ubalki could take care of himself, he was sure. Qeeta, along with being in her assigned chamber, and being comfortable sitting on a chair, had been resting her leg on a pillow—it was heavily bandaged but he managed to unwrap it to see how bad the wound was and to see if any infections had set in. Tazir had gotten a good tongue lashing afterwards. Why his son went and took his sister with him on such a dangerous mission was beyond him; Qeeta was a tough girl, yes, but she was a girl nonetheless, which meant that she couldn't handle gunshot wounds as well as a man could. He saw Cheshire Ubalki a few minutes ago, after he went over to see Qeeta and then get the scoop on the situation. The man's hands were heavily wrapped in gauze, but he was using them. There were several Goblins walking around in Tazir's camp; he had noticed that the hand of one of them was heavily bandaged. He had asked no questions on what happened to the Goblin who was wearing a heavy bandage on his right hand; he just walked on over to where he saw his three grandsons—Triskull, Baruk and Sudir—conversing.

"Tazir's not spilling any details on what's going on," DuruVile said, and was he ever mad over that. As he saw it, he had a right in knowing what was going on. He had spent time, money, and fuel in getting to the planet and he had also dragged his family along on the trip as well—other than his worry over his great-granddaughter and her children, he thought that those reasons were good enough to warrant an answer to what was going on. "Kuruk, you know anything on why we're in this location?"

"Not much, Tazir's kept me pretty much in the dark." KurukVile replied. "All I know is that Hazaar, Bile, and Lhaklar were seen eight days ago, as was the dark-skinned fellow aka "Numbskull"."

"Know anything of Bile's, Lhaklar's, or Hazaar's conditions? Any sightings of Angel or Lazeer?" DuruVile asked.

"Hazaar's walking around with a right bad limp; only the Gods know what happened to him. Lhaklar, from what I gathered, after we did our re-grouping thing at the fair that Tazir's MoHunds tracked the boys to, has a head-wound that's pretty b—"

"Head-wound? What head-wound?" DuruVile suddenly felt his stomach go two degrees colder.

"When we did our re-grouping thing at the fair, Cheshire told us of a four and a quarter inch long gash that Lhaklar has on the right side of his head," KurukVile replied. "Bile looked fine—no viewable injuries on him."

"And Angel and Lazeer?"

"We didn't—" KurukVile started.

"—see them at all." TazirVile finished for his brother.

TazirVile, clad in a slate gray tuxedo, that's jacket had a split tail in the back, that reached down, almost to the backs of his knees, walked up confidently. After reaching the snow-covered knoll, he reached into the black, wool overcoat that was over his tuxedo for the report that he made after he, Cheshire, Qeeta, Eldass, and Zshon had a few hours of sleep after returning from the fair that his three sons were tracked to. The only reason why his older, half-brother wasn't included in the report was because he hadn't been able to be reached. All attempts to contact him didn't go through so, he guessed that he was too pissed to talk. The report that he made was a simple one; there was only one, written statement in it that contained the details of each encounter. There were several photographs, all of which he took from his, Qeeta's, and Cheshire's memories, included in the report as well. TazirVile took the photographs from the green folder that they were in then handed them over to his father, who took his sweet time in looking at them before handing them over to KurukVile.

"That gash on Lhaklar's head does not look good!" Irka exclaimed. In order to look at the photographs that her husband was given, she had to grab and then pull his arm down.

"Is it me or does Lhaklar and Hazaar look underweight?" KurukVile asked.

"What's going on here, Tazir? Why're the boys injured and looking underweight?" DuruVile asked. He actually ran his hand over his head after seeing the gash that was present in the one photograph of Lhaklar.

"Angel's not been seen in months," TazirVile said first. He felt a pang of hurt and fear rise up in his chest with them words. "The boys have been seen plenty, but she hasn't been seen at all. Most of the time, the boys are seen separately—only two at a time have been seen together."

"Why's that?" DuruVile asked.

"Originally, I thought that Vile did something to split them apart. I thought that, after I arrived here, then paid him a visit, I'd find my wife in his possession. She wasn't; while she's been reported as being seen on the planet, she hasn't been seen in months." TazirVile replied. "There are two newspaper articles that mention her return to the planet—they were written earlier this year. Vile's army did come upon my wife; there was a slight altercation then she disappeared. She hasn't been seen since."

"Could she of been injured during that altercation?" Irka asked. Now she felt fear.

"If she has then..." TazirVile went silent. He swallowed hard then said something different. "I don't know what's happened to her. With the boys being seen alone... it's believed that my sons have gone into a bachelor's lifestyle and that there have been complications along the way that have left some of them with having some sort of injury afterwards."

"When was the last time that Angel was seen?" DuruVile was doing his best to keep his muscles from tightening up. Hearing all of this had made him feel panicked. Four, mid-teenage boys out in the wilds without a grown-up to aid or protect them... that, to him, was scary!

"In May. The early part of May." TazirVile replied.

"Six months!" KurukVile exclaimed. "She's not been seen in six months?"

"Correct," TazirVile replied. "Lazeer was last seen on the 25th of September; two of my staff saw him and Hazaar in China. Hazaar was complaining about his leg hurting him at that time. Bile was seen in a town near here called Au am Rhein on the same day; Lhaklar was seen in a city near here called Bühl the following day."

"Three seen on the same day while the other was seen the day after and with two of the four being seen in two separate locations?" DuruVile shuddered, he suddenly felt cold.

"Dad,"

It was bad timing and he knew it. His parents, his grandfather, and his uncle were having a rather serious conversation on certain members of the family that went missing earlier that year and it looked like that conversation had all of them looking rather nervous but... he was bored. While he knew that the conversation that they were having was an important one he couldn't help but feel bored and he had a feeling that his brother and sister felt the exact same way. KurukVile looked at his son; he gave him the signal to hush up before turning to look at his brother, who looked rather pale. Baruk ignored the signal; he walked over to his father then grabbed the sleeve of his long, brown leather coat, that had a brown fur inside lining and collar, then asked the question that he wanted to ask. He was brushed off twice more. On the third attempt, his father actually turned to face him. In that one move, he knew that he had overdone it. Baruk backed off.

"Go on, Baruk." KurukVile said. Anger and annoyance was very evident in his voice. "Take Kaasa and Sudir with you."

"And Gaajah, Uevaa, and Selik." DuruVile added.

"Phaggo, Blaiga, and Eshal too." TazirVile said. He resumed the conversation that was rudely interrupted.

There was a lot of activity going on in the abandoned mining area, that was in the nature reserve, that was directly across from the one where TazirVile's, KurukVile's, DuruVile's, and TrobrencusVile's camps were set-up in. Besides the loud, war-like calls that were being cast by the people that were in the area, there was also the unmistakable popping sounds of BB guns being fired. The machinery, that was used several hundred years ago, was now either rusting into the ground or falling apart; the area's few vehicles didn't look like vehicles anymore. The landscape had very nearly crept back to reclaim what was taken from it so many thousands of year ago. The area where the abandoned mining area was in was also a nature reserve, but it was a drastically different one than that of the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve. The reserve, which was called the Silberweidenwald Steinmauern, was created a full twenty-two years after the reserve that it neighbored. Unlike the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve, which was allowed to absorb the farmlands that were to its east, after they were abandoned in the last few hundred years, the Silberweidenwald Steinmauern nature reserve had, for the most part, been kept within its borders. Only one or two places were allowed to be absorbed into the reserve.

The Silberweidenwald Steinmauern nature reserve was allowed to absorb the Kiesgrube mine, which sat on the edge of the Rhine river and the side of the Goldkanal, that was in the district of Steinmauern, along with the mine and gravel yard that was also called the Kiesgrube that was on the other side of the Goldkanal; the Kiesgrube that was on the other side of the Goldkanal was actually in the district of Elchesheim-Illingen, but the land that reclaimed the area had shown no district-prejudice in what it reclaimed.

All of the machinery that was in the Elchesheim-Illingen Kiesgrube mining area was dismantled right after the Silberweidenwald Steinmauern crept in to reclaim it; the humans hadn't had time to remove or dismantle any of the machinery that was in the Steinmauern Kiesgrube mining area, though. There were four or five vehicles in the Steinmauern-located Kiesgrube's parking lot that had rusted to the ground. The cranes, the loaders, and the crushers had thick rust over their steel parts. Most of the buildings that were in the area now lay in ruin; there were maybe one or two buildings that were still standing. Surprisingly, the conveyor belt, that had once sent crushed gravel or rocks to the gravel or crushed rock hills, was still intact. It was from this piece of machinery that most of the shooting targets were hung from. Bile, Guyunis, and Lazeer were shooting at these targets, and at the ones that were placed before one of the area's rusted crushers, at a near maniacal ferocity.

Angus Behrends, the young man that Bile met and then befriended in late-September, at the Au am Rhein dump, and his three friends, two of whom were female, were simply standing back. All four of the human teenagers were staring in awe at the accuracy of the shots that the three alien-born teenagers were getting. Angus's vintage Crosman 788-C BB Scout gun was leaning against his leg; he had shot the gun ten or so times before letting Bile take his place. The three BB guns that were owned by his friends were lying in the open, on the snow, nearby; there were four duffel bags—a blue, a green, a red, and a black in that order—hanging from the branch of a tree to his right. To his and his human friends' left, there were four snowboards; they were lined up against a pile of bricks. The snowboards were used a lot before Angus made the suggestion of their going to the Steinmauern Kiesgrube mining area to use their BB's.

"Sure, gotta teach my BB-gun virgin of an adoptive brother how to shoot anyways." Bile said enthusiastically after hearing the suggestion.

Bile had said nothing on his bringing two of his siblings along on their planned excursion when they talked on the phone nearly three hours ago. He had just shown up with his youngest or "baby" bruder—who had one hell of a gnarly gash going across his left eye—and his adoptive bruder, who was slightly reluctant to join in on the fun that they were having in snowboarding the snow-covered hills for a few minutes. Angus had felt no anger or annoyance over having two extra, alien-born teenagers join-in on his and his friends' planned activities. He was okay with having Lazeer and Guyunis join in on the planned fun and so was his friends. Guyunis had won his respect rather quickly—he had shown up wearing no coat and he had also shown up without wearing a scarf or a pair of gloves. The blue hoodie that the kid was wearing offered no protection against the cold; except for the hood, the hoodie was practically non-existent—there was no torso or sleeves to the garment at all. Besides the hoodie, Guyunis was wearing a pair of knee-high, light tan cargo pants, that had a lot of rips and tears in the inner and outer thighs. The pair of boots, that the kid had on his feet, looked rather heavy, but he seemed to have no problem in walking in them.

"Don't them chains make you feel cold?" Angus asked Guyunis, after the fellow loosened up some. Angus had actually spent twenty minutes snowboarding and goofing off with his friends before noticing that Guyunis was wearing a series of chains around his body. Guyunis had a short length of chain wrapped loosely around his neck; another short length of chain, which was wrapped around his shoulders and chest, ran down from that. There was another section of chain that was connected to the chain that went around his shoulders and chest; that went down to yet another chain that was around his waist.

"No," Guyunis replied.

"Aren't you cold at all?" Angus asked. "All of us have winter-wears on, you're the only one that isn't wearing a coat or a pair of gloves... or a scarf."

"I'm a lit-k-tle chilly, but I'm not cold though." Guyunis replied.

Lazeer was the only one of his three, alien-bred and born teenage friends that was fully clothed for the cold. The black leather jacket that Bile was wearing wasn't zipped or closed up; the gloves, that were on his hands, were finger-less. Angus had a brown khaki trench coat, heavy brown gloves, and a red scarf on—he had just not been allowed to leave the house without them. His three friends were equally attired; all of their parents had said no in letting them go out without wearing the heavy-duty winter stuff. Angus had caught Bile blowing a red-colored smoke on his hands once and he had also seen Guyunis's body go a dark red color after he took and then held in a deep breath—he figured that they did something with their powers to keep themselves warm.

"Time!" Abelle Paternoster, a French-born gal, who was raised on the German-side of the Rhine—or Rhein, as she called it—river, yelled. When Bile, Guyunis, and Lazeer continued to fire their BB's, Abelle hitched in breath to scream. "I said _time!_ "

"Time? Wha-k-t time? Is that a password or somethin-k-g?" Guyunis called back. He lowered the Marlin Cowboy BB gun that Bile had given him—that was actually Hazaar's—then looked back at Abelle.

"It's a password alright—you grease-foots are making us look and feel like tender-feet over here." Abelle said back.

"That's because you _are_ tender-feet." Lazeer called over his shoulder jokingly.

"Don't mind my sister, where the hell did you three learn how to shoot?" Aubin Paternoster, Abelle Paternoster's older brother, asked.

"Our ma," Bile replied. He was sliding his Daisy Eagle BB gun into its protective case. "I have no idea where Guyunis learned how to shoot a gun."

"My firs-k-t time shootin-k-g a gun, I'm just as surprised as you are." Guyunis said. He gave Bile the BB gun that he used that morning. Bile took the gun then slid it into its protective case quickly.

"If I'm ever out shootin' rabbits, I'll be sure to have you at my side," Lazeer said. He punched Guyunis in the shoulder before slinging his Daisy double barrel BB gun over his shoulder. "You're a natural, mom would be beaming with pride."

"Come on over boys—I think all of the stuff that we snatched from that guy, who was throwing out all the food that was in the hauptschule's vending machines, is still edible." Franziska Beyersdorf said. She was sitting on the snow in front of the green-colored duffel bag.

Abelle Paternoster, who was a tough as nails type of girl, and who did tend to get into more trouble than her brother and friends, was the one to suggest their running over to grab all of the bags of snack foods—the ring dings, the candy bars, the bags of cookies, the bags of chips and pretzels and onion rings, and, of course, the twinkies, snowballs, donuts, cupcakes, and fruit pies—that were left on the lid of the dumpster, that was behind the three-story tall secondary school or Hauptschule building, that was in the middle of Au am Rhein. The janitor, that was at the school, was emptying the vending machines of their snacks for most of that morning; he was making short trips to and then from the school and the school's dumpster all morning. The man hadn't even bothered to throw any of what he took to the dumpster into the dumpster. They had made off with maybe €30 or €40 worth of vending machine snacks, all of which was in their duffel bags. Angus, Abelle and Aubin Paternoster, and Franziska Beyersdorf were walking along with their BB guns slung over their shoulders, and with their snowboards tied to their backs, when Bile, Guyunis, and Lazeer showed up; Bile had actually "exhumed" the BB guns that he and his brothers had used from under the ground by jabbing his arms down and then jerking them over to the side. A small, square portion of the ground, that was in front of their alien-friend, had flipped over. There were three, long boxes on top of that square. A BB gun per box was removed afterwards; Bile and his two brothers had muttered something that none of the three human teenagers had caught after the guns were taken from the boxes. The boxes disappeared afterwards.

Angus had, originally, planned to go to the gravel pit, where Baruk found his spent bullet shells, after he and his friends—both human and alien—finished snowboarding. Bile and his "baby" brother had changed his mind on that plan rather quickly, after he explained where the gravel pit was.

"No way man! Ma'd have a bird and we'd be lacking a layer of skin on our backsides if we went so much as a foot near that camp." Bile had said.

" 'Be missing a layer of skin on our backsides' ?" Aubin repeated that part of what Bile had said to his sister in a rather loud whisper. Abelle had a rather blank and tired look on her face at the time.

"Not in a bad way—our mother uses dish towels to discipline us with; she swats until we're pretty red and embarrassed then we usually get a further discipline afterwards. A grounding, usually." Lazeer said, after hearing Aubin's whispered words.

"Don't think anyone in that camp'll hurt you three," Angus said. "Who are they? I've seen a few of them from time to time when I go to the gravel pit in that location. The one that I mostly see looks a lot like you, Bile."

"They're members of our family. It's either my grandfather or my grandfather's young son, Baruk, that you've seen." Bile replied.

"They related to that sissy-pus of a man that's your birth-dat?" Abelle asked.

"Yes, immediate relation." Bile replied.

After a few minutes of silence, Bile explained all of what happened the year before. He told them that the people that were in the camp, that was in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve, had shown up one day to turn his and his family's lives upside down. He had also told them a few things that happened after he and his family were abducted from their home in Wyoming. Angus was quiet for a while. He thought things over for a short while then he made the suggestion of their going to the abandoned Steinmauern's Kiesgrube mine that, he claimed, was over a mile away from the camp that was in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve. After spending an hour and a half snowboarding, they went to the abandoned mine. They arrived at the location fifteen minutes later. Bile and Lazeer had set the targets up right after they arrived at the mine. They got busy with firing and then reloading their BB's afterwards. Lazeer had made several of the pots and pans, that Angus and Aubin had brought along with them, that had many dings and scratches and holes in their sides, rise up. Bile had climbed the conveyor belt to tie the hovering pots and pans to the conveyor belt's siding then he climbed back down. Guyunis, Angus, and Aubin had set the other targets, mostly beer and soda bottles and aluminum cans, down in front of one of the mine's rusted down crushers while Abelle and Franziska hung the duffel bags on the branch of a nearby tree. They spent all of an hour and a half shooting their BB's before Abelle said for them to take a breather.

"Alright my hungry bunch of fellas, line up. No fighting now or you miss out on lunch." Franziska Beyersdorf, a rather beautiful, eighteen year old girl, who had long flowing, blonde hair and green eyes, said after her friends reached the area where the duffel bags were. Franziska had a petite body build. Her breasts, while small, were visible. She was wearing a blue t-shirt, a pair of faded blue jeans, and a pair of snow boots that had a low-heel on them. The dark purple, wool coat, that she was wearing earlier, was on the ground beside her; the pair of purple gloves, that she put on before leaving her parents' house, were stuffed in her left back pants pocket while her striped, dark purple hat and scarf were lying in front of her. "Abelle and I get dibs on whatever we want; you boys, who have so much meat on your bones, can have only one piece of the booty."

"Hey! It's _winter_ here, us "boys" need food to survive too." Aubin, an eighteen year old boy, who had red hair and a scar that ran across his right cheek, exclaimed. Aubin turned his brown eyes towards his sister; he gave her a pleading look before turning to look at Franziska. Aubin was wearing a rather torn up jean jacket over a green t-shirt. His dark green pants had patches on the knees; his brown shoes were pretty badly scuffed up. The red scarf, hat, and gloves that he was wearing earlier were in his blue duffel bag.

"Sorry boys but rules is rules here in the wilds of the jungle." Abelle said. Except for her brown hair, she looked quite a lot like her brother. She was a year younger and exactly an inch and a half shorter than Aubin. While her brother was leaning more towards the chubby side, she had a very althetic body build. She had a rather long, brown wool coat on over a blue and green, two-tone t-shirt. Her blue jeans had studs going down their sides. Her mittens were sticking out from the tops of her brown snow boots while her toboggan hat and scarf were sticking out from the back pockets of her jeans.

"Not only do we have less meat on our bones but we also have to weather through you boys' constant shenanigans." Franziska said. She smiled a wide smile then dumped all of the food that was in the green duffel bag out.

Almost all at once, three Hostess fruit pies, and three snowballs, flew into the air. Abelle and Franziska watched in stunned disbelief as the six snacks floated towards their three, alien-friends; their three friends reached out then took the snacks after they stopped their flight towards them. A krinkling sound was heard as their friends opened their retrieved snacks. Bile practically ate half of the lemon flavored fruit pie that he grabbed in two bites while Guyunis, who had a cherry flavored pie, and Lazeer, who had a blueberry flavored pie, took small bites out of theirs. Aubin, moving just as quickly as he could, lunged at the snacks that littered the ground that was in front of Franziska. He snatched a Hostess pudding pie, a twinkie, and then two snickers bars before retreating. Angus wasn't as fast as his friend was in retrieving his own lunch; he only managed to grab a twinkie before Abelle shoved him out of the way. Abelle and Franziska acted almost like wolverines; they grabbed up three candy bars each, then they grabbed an apple, and then a lemon, Hostess pie, and then a thing of cupcakes, before backing off.

"The "rules" in the "wilds" of the jungle are always changing," Bile said after five minutes of silence fell between him, his brothers, and their friends.

"It's the survival of the fittest out here," Lazeer said. He belched lightly then wiped the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"We should of scarfed the sweets sooner," Aubin said. He threw a snickers wrapper behind him. The candy wrapper was caught by the wind and snow; it was blown away almost instantly. "Who made them six snacks float anyways?"

"Me," Lazeer admitted.

"How'd you do that?" Franziska asked. "That was cooler than cool."

"You know that ability where one can manipulate things without using their hands?" Lazeer asked. Franziska shook her head. "I have Telekinetic powers. I can make things "fly" or "float up" from where they lay by either thinking of or looking at them. I can also make things that I want to move move by simply waving my hand."

"You did that earlier with the targets, right? You used that power of yours to make the targets float up to the conveyor belt?" Aubin asked.

"Yeah,"

"Can you manipulate living organisms with that power?" Abelle asked. "Or is that power restricted to only inanimate objects?"

"I can manipulate both living and inanimate things," Lazeer replied.

"Can you two do that?" Abelle asked Bile and Guyunis.

"No," Bile shook his head. "He inherited his Telekinetic powers from his father. Lhaklar and Hazaar also have Telekinetic powers."

"Who's his fader again?" Franziska asked.

"I'll only answer that question for the thing of white donuts that's near you." Bile winked his left eye. Franziska fished the white frosted donuts—or donettes, as it said on the package—out from the pile of snack foods that were in front of her then tossed it over to Bile, who caught it with little trouble. He ripped the end of the package open then took one of the donuts out. "Thanks; his father's name is TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit."

"TazirVile? Would he have any nicknames such as Tazzy or..." Angus started to ask. Bile nodded his head. Angus decided to change the subject after two minutes of silence fell between him and his friends. "Where's Lhaklar and Hazaar anyways?"

"A-k-t home," Guyunis answered quickly.

"They didn't want to come out and have some fun in the snow?" Franziska asked.

"Lhaklar said he wanted to catch up on some zzz's—after last night's quakes, none of us really slept very good." Bile replied. After finishing the white frosted donuts, he made a small flame appear in the palm of his hand. The package that the white frosted donuts had once been in was burned to ashes quickly; the wind caught and then blew the ashes away afterwards. "Hazaar's leg is still causing him trouble—he cracked the bone in his hip in September; he hasn't been able to get around as fluidly as he use to."

"Good reasons for them to not come along, I didn't get much sleep last night e—"

"You doofus! You slept _like a rock,_ like you always do." Abelle interrupted Aubin. Abelle and Aubin stared at each other for a short while then, when they broke the stare, Abelle stood up. "Pardon me, gentlemen. I do believe that I need to visit the latrine bushes."

Abelle left; the others went on talking for a short while then a strange silence settled over the area. The snow seemed to of started to fall faster and heavier; Bile shook his head to rid it of the layer of snow that had accumulated on his elongated ears while Lazeer held his left hand up to shield the injured side of his face from the wind-blown snow. Aubin and Angus collected what was left of the snacks that were in the green duffel bag. They stuffed each morsel back into the bag then they hung it back on the limb of the tree that the other duffel bags were hanging from. Guyunis and Franziska went to the spot where the three BB guns were left; they had to crawl around on the ground to find the guns—which, thanks to the heavy-falling snow, and to their just up and leaving them sitting out and in the open, were buried under the snow.

After a full two minutes came and went without their finding the guns, Guyunis decided to try something. He stood then jabbed his arms down; Franziska watched in awe as a wave of snow rose up from the ground. The wave rose pretty high before Guyunis spotted the first of the three missing BB's. He was about to notify Franziska about the just-sighted BB when he suddenly felt something small, hard, and icy fall on his head. He threw the snow-wave to the side then held his hands out. He yelled for Franziska to come retrieve the BB, that was now able to be seen, as pebble-sized hail started to rain down on his head and into the palms of his hands. The pebble-sized hail grew in size very quickly; within twenty seconds, it went from being the size of a pebble to that of a fifty euro cent. He was so surprised over how fast the hail had grown in size that he missed hearing Franziska's yell of triumph over finding the other two BB guns. He also missed hearing the rumble-pops that were coming from the sky above.


	25. Chapter 25

The palms of the hands, that were around the hourglass-shaped steering wheel, that wore a dark blue leather cover, were rather rough while their tops were oddly smooth. The veins that bulged out from them were rather prominent, but that was normal. The owner of the hands was quite strong—they just emphasized this fact. In one small movement, the left hand lifted. It reached over to where a red button was; one long finger pressed the button before the hand was returned to the wheel. The ship that was being driven had listed ever so slightly to the left, after that movement was done; the owner of the hands righted the ship then continued driving.

The atmosphere meter, that was to the right of the ship's driver, was printing out a reading that said there was quite a lot of pressure being applied around the ship. The driver glanced at the meter twice before taking his right hand from the wheel. The driver grabbed a long stick that was connected to the floor of his ship's cockpit; the stick's end sported a round knob that disappeared after the hand was placed on it. The driver pushed the stick forward then, while keeping his hand on its knob, jabbed a blue button with that hand's index finger. There was a beeping sound then the atmosphere meter printed out a much more favorable reading that the driver was content with. The driver moved his hand back to the wheel after seeing the new reading that the atmosphere meter had printed out; he quickly corrected the balance of the ship that he was driving after returning his hand to the wheel.

"Driving a spaceship is much more difficult than driving a car," the ship's driver remembered telling his son, who was a right young child at the time, once. "A spaceship is much heavier than a car, so you'll need to have both of your hands on the wheel at all times because the weight of the ship can make it list. If anything should come up that requires you to remove a hand from the wheel, you make sure to either put the ship on autopilot or you do whatever you need to do with that hand and fast because, if you let your ship list too far, you might not be able to right it. Hear me?"

"Yes, Pubba." his son returned.

Before taking that potion that put him in Limbo, he was a pro in driving a spaceship. He had to re-learn a lot of things after being brought back from being in Limbo and driving a spaceship was one of them. It took him a short while before he was able to get his license to drive a ship re-instated; he had to re-take all of the tests that were required to be taken before one could lay-hand on the wheel of a ship and he also had to have a spaceship counselor accompany him on his first drive after his license was re-instated. Getting his normal license re-instated was a piece of cake in comparison to his getting his spaceship license re-instated; a car was much more easier to drive and handle than a craft that flew through space—not only did a car weigh less than a spacecraft but the controls were much easier to use and there were far fewer controls in a car. In order to get a car started, all one had to do was stick the key in the ignition, give it a twist, move the gear shift from park to reverse, then apply gentle pressure to the brake pedal to get the car backed out of the driveway—if the car was driven front-first into the driveway, that was. If the car was backed into the driveway, all one had to do was move the gear shift from park to drive then apply gentle pressure to the gas pedal then turn the wheel after they reached the end of the driveway. While a car was much easier to right after it started to veer over to an undesired part of the road that it was being driven on, it was still highly recommended to keep both hands on the wheel; if anything went amiss during the drive from point A to point B, the driver could apply brakes and horn to get the car to a safe spot on the side of the road that it was being driven on. Being that this was a spaceship that he was driving, he couldn't afford to make any mistakes. He had already made one mistake in driving a ship that was similar to the one that he was currently driving and that had cost him dearly.

He spent two years and seven months on the planet Jupiter—a planet that was in the Milky Way Galaxy, that actually destroyed the planet that had formerly been in its present-day location—over two hundred thousand years ago. He had fought starvation and disease and the nagging feeling of despair on that planet for all of two years and seven months before deciding to take the potion that he made for just that occasion.

Herleven potion was invented for a reason; while it caused death, it didn't make for the passing to be a full one. The potion-maker made the potion in the event that, if anything happened that was life-threatening—oh, say, crash-land on an unknown planet, that has hostile natives on it, along with either scarce or dangerous or near in-edible foods and/or animals—, he or she could save him or herself by taking the potion that would put him or her into a temporary or suspended death. Jupiter was Hell; the natives were hostile and the plant and animal-life was either scarce, poisonous, or horribly in-edible. When space debris in a space-made storm crashed into his ship, he had a hundred on board; only ninety souls—himself included—had survived the trek from the Kuiper Belt to Jupiter. He had to tear the control system that was in his ship at the time up in order to get it to drive after the collision happened; the first casualties of that trip occurred in the way back of his ship, after four or five of his staff got trapped in the storage space. Three of his staff had tried to rescue them trapped souls; all of them were lost after his ship's storage space went up in flames. Two others in his service died after his ship crashed on Jupiter—the ship cracked open in two places then them cracks sucked them two souls out. He and his eighty-nine surviving staff were forced to live a rather pitiful life afterwards.

The near-1000 page book, On My Knees by Geetix Laykewiss, had turned into one of his favorite reads after the first half of his relationship with his first fiancée, Bikare Globoosie, ended. He picked the book up thinking that it was one of them erotic novels; while it was a novel it wasn't an erotic one. It was an autobiographic novel telling of a man's struggles after he crash-landed on an unknown planet that was inhabited by hostile natives and dangerous animals and plants instead. He had read through that book four times and he had also watched the feature that was based off the book twice; thanks to the feature not staying true to what Geetix Laykewiss had written, he preferred the book to it.

That book had put a mild change in on how he traveled between galaxies—while he was already making and carrying Herleven potion whenever he went on his galactic travels, he had made a special point to make and then carry two vials of that potion on him after reading that book. Just in case something happened and the first vial was lost or broken.

As it turned out, making two of that one particular potion was more than a good idea. It was a life saver for him as the first vial of the potion that he made had disappeared from his pocket during the first few months of his stay on Jupiter. He and his eighty-nine surviving staff did well in surviving during the first few months of their forced stay on the planet then something happened that culled their numbers down some and that made their stay on the planet go sour—a group of the planet's native people came upon them one night. Them damn natives raided their camp and culled their numbers down from ninety to fifty before leaving. Over the months that followed, the number of his surviving staff had dropped until it was just him and two others remaining. He and his remaining staff were forced to live a nomadic life after that raid; during that nomadic lifestyle, his remaining staff did something that he had plain refused to do—while he survived by eating small amounts of the poisonous matter that was around him, his remaining staff ate their fallen comrades. He survived for three weeks after his two remaining staff members passed away then he took the potion. He spent over two hundred thousand years in Limbo afterwards.

His then, still-living staff eating the remains of their fallen comrades, his eating poisonous matter to keep himself alive, his fighting off the hostile natives and then finding himself alone after having some company on Jupiter for two years and seven months... that was all enough to make any being go crazy. He was lucky. Damn lucky to be back in the world of the living and damn lucky to be sane. Not many would of stayed sane after going through what he had, he was pretty damn sure of that.

"Entering planet's third atmosphere," a mechanical-sounding voice said. "Ozone: weak. Pressure: great. Stability of Vessel: ninety-eight percent."

He pulled his ship to the left to avoid the electricity that the clouds were about to release; a bolt of yellow lightning zapped close by his ship a second later. Thunder roared as sweat began to pour from his pores. Tazir, his thirdborn grandson, had really made a mess of the planet's ozone layers, it seemed. They were nearly gone; what he was driving through was pure atmosphere. If the ozone layers were there, and if they were fully healthy, he and his ship would of experienced a lot more pressure and friction.

He had no more straightened his ship out before letting the wheel drop to the right, to avoid another bolt of lightning; the bolts of lightning could well get past the electric barrier or shield that his ship had around it and, if one of them did that, he would find himself being in a situation similar to how he got to Jupiter. The lightning could fry his security systems; it could wipe out the heating and cooling system; and it could also do something to the ship's engine. It was best to fly a little wildly now; to veer around or away from the lightning. He could deal with the snow and the hail that was falling; thanks to the design of his ship's thrusters, he had nothing to worry about with the snow or the hail. The thrusters that were in the tail portion of his ship were straight; when he began his descent into the planet, he made sure that his ship wasn't pointed down. He entered the planet's atmospheres at an angle, like he always did when he drove into a planet. There was a slight vibration going on in the wheel; he could feel it in his hands but he wasn't concerned about it. The remnants of the planet's atmospheres, like all planetary atmospheres, were only doing their jobs in trying to keep the planet safe.

The dark blue leather chair, that he strapped himself into nearly three days ago, squeaked ever so lightly when he suddenly banked to the right. There was no warning with the bolt of lightning that just sliced down in front of his ship. If he didn't bank in the direction that he had, and as quickly as he had, he would of been in dire trouble. It'd be Jupiter all over again—an experience that he just didn't want a repeat of. The clouds around him were of the deepest of gray; he was keeping an eye on the flashes of light that were happening in them. If one of the clouds that were near him flashed a light more than once, he knew that a bolt of lightning would be happening. Lighting was electricity and, up in these clouds, it was caused by a rather negatively charged cloud bumping into a positively charged cloud and, boy, were there plenty of both where he was at the moment. He could imagine what was going on underneath these clouds. There was probably a light show going on that put all other light shows to shame and, quite possibly, there was either a mild or a medium-strength quake going on to herald his arrival. Usually, his arrivals were heralded with extreme weather changes, lightning flashes, and darkness, but, as of the last five hundred years, mild to medium-strength quakes had also been reported as happening during his arrival to a planet. A person of evil backing brought forth their own brand of heralded charm to a planet; the lesser known of the Universe's conquerors barely made their entrance known, while the arrival of the more known conquerors was so pronounced it was scary. Since he was of the higher group of galactic conquerors he knew that there were probably a lot of people running around scared in the areas that were under the clouds that he was currently driving through.

"Ground distance from ship," he said. The voice that he just used was the same one that he used before he took that potion over two hundred thousand years ago. The voice that he just used was a strong, loud, and deeply husky one; it was the voice that took the place of the squeaky one that he used when he was a child and a teenager. The voice that he used as a child was okay for that period in his life while the horrible mess of a voice that he used as a teenager he could use to forget.

"Twenty-five miles below ship's undercarriage," the mechanical voice replied.

"What is the general location under the ship's undercarriage?" he asked. He had to be basic with the questions that he asked his ship's communications board. The communications board that was in his ship had the intelligence of a child that had yet to enter his or her teenage years; it was best to use small words and simple commands with it.

"The far west corner of the commune of Mothern," the mechanical voice replied. "Ship is over north-eastern France."

"How far is the commune of Mothern from the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve?" he asked the communications board. When there was no reply, he asked for the communications board to print out a log of the area that was both underneath and directly in front of his ship.

As the ship that was piloted by the man, who had made it possible for him to be created, was flying through Earth's near in-existent ozones, he was having a moment where he suddenly found himself thinking that everything that happened to him in the last eleven months was nothing more than a good dream. He was back to living with the Meyer family again. Gone was his new, loving family. Gone was his new mum. Gone were his four bruders. He was back to living a shamed life under the roof of Mathis Meyer Jr. and Lenora Falkenrath; he was back to being more of a servant and slave than an adoptive son. Instead of being called Guyunis or G or Guy, he was back to being called Demon or Brat or just plain You.

The sudden shiver that coursed through his body brought the image in clearer; he suddenly _saw_ himself as actually, physically, being back in the Meyer attic. The chains that were around his neck, shoulders, and chest were now no longer wrapped around them parts of his body. He saw that one of the links to the chains that were on him went from the pair of shackles that the Meyer's had put on him after Mathis Meyer Jr.'s parents passed away. The other end of the chains were wrapped several times around one of the beams that was above his head. It was either meal-hour—Lenora always chained him in the attic to make double-sure he wouldn't intrude on her precious family as they ate their meal in relative comfort—or it was time for the Meyer's to go to sleep. Either Lenora or Mathis did the chore of chaining him in the attic when it was time for the family to go to sleep—they didn't want him to bother them or their precious family as they dreamed their good dreams or slept in their nice, cozy, warm beds... that probably had mattresses that weren't pieces of shit, with all the stuffing and foam gone, and that probably had good, warm blankets and sheets on them.

He was back to having to sleep while being chained up in the Meyer's attic. His old mattress, that was all spring, and that had little to no stuffing or foam in it, was what he was expected to sleep or rest on. He was back to having to sleep with having no sheet or blanket to keep him warm; he was back to having nothing to rest his head on. He was back to having to lie in agony on the piece of shit mattress that his so-called parents had given him to sleep on for hours; like with the many previous nights that he had spent in this damn house, he would experience two pains on this night. One would stem from the mattress's protruding springs causing either his back or one of his sides to hurt while the other would stem from the constant agony of feeling no love from the family that "the system" had awarded him to.

The wind that was blowing around him wasn't really blowing around him now. It was now blowing around the big, brick house, that sat on a big plot of land in the Hesse country-side, that the Meyer family called home. The attic of this house would make all sorts of scary sounds that would also keep him up for most of the night. The attic would moan and groan and he, as always, would imagine it as coming down on him. As he lay on his piece-of-shit mattress, he would imagine the beams and rafters all coming down on him after the house was shook by a big gust of wind. He would imagine his cries for help afterwards, which would go unanswered, and he would imagine the funeral that would happen later, all while he lay on his old and uncomfortable mattress-bed. Maybe the Meyer family would be decent and bury him someplace nice or, quite possibly, they'd just say for someone to dig a hole that was big enough for him somewhere far from the house. He'd be buried, the Earth would be shoveled over him, then he'd be forgotten.

The hail that was mixing in with the snow grew to nearly the size of a full grown man's fist as two tears dropped down from the corners of his eyes then ran down his cheeks; the wind blew his blue hoodie from his head then made his black hair fly back—this caused a faded, and recently fragmented, memory to come back full and clear. He remembered Lenora Meyer, née Falkenrath, grabbing him by his hair. She gave his head a great, big, yank back after coming upon him sitting on the last step of the stairs that went up to the second floor of her and husband's house. With all that he did that day—the house's floors and windows, cleaning the gutters, lugging basket after basket of laundry from the basement, and then, after the sun had set, doing the yard—, he was exhausted. Utterly drained and in need of a little breather. Lenora hadn't been sympathetic to this need. She grabbed him by the back of his hoodie instead of letting him sit and take a short break. Her fingers, he remembered, had hooked into the fabric of his hoodie, and his oily and rather un-kept hair. She grabbed him, then yanked him back, and then to his feet. After he was pulled to his feet, she pushed him forward. The order that she gave him afterwards was to go "clean my husband's office of its dust"; he did so with no fuss. There was no rest for the servant, no break allowed in the Meyer house for the slave; he did nothing but lie on his back on the mattress that he was given to sleep on after being told to go to the attic for the night. The back of his head, he remembered, had hurt him for all of the rest of that night and for most of the following morning.

This happened some five years ago, but he felt like it had just happened. The back of his head was throbbing. It felt like someone had just grabbed and then pulled his hair back again.

His heart ached; more tears flowed from his eyes as something hard slammed into him. He was driven back a few feet by, he imagined, Mathis Meyer Jr. Mathis Meyer Jr., a fat, ugly, overly-grumpy and very mean man, who grew very rich from what he inherited from his fader, Mathis Meyer Sr., had his black belt in his hands. He imagined Mathis giving him another undeserved beating. He imagined... no, no he actually _lived_ through the beating that Mathis Meyer Jr. gave him three years ago—the one where he was driven up against the wall. The black belt, with the buckle still attached to it, had risen and fallen numerous times; Mathis had made him cower against the wall as he rained blow after blow on him. Was he hearing laughter during this beating? That was a yes; he could hear it clearly! The Meyer kids had always been present during his beatings; they had gotten a sort of cheap thrill out of them. The Meyer kids would cheer as their fader beat him, made him cry and beg, and as he put welts and marks all over his arms, chest, and stomach. They would tell their fader to get him and get him good or hard or to add some oomph to his swings. As always, he'd head up to the attic to cry his tears and to nurse his wounds, and his pride, and to wish that he had a better life than the one that he currently had and to wish that something would happen to his tormentors and abu—

"Move, G!" Guyunis shook his head; tears were still flowing from his eyes as he was pulled from his past. He looked around for a bit then Bile, the oldest of his adoptive brothers, came into focus. Guyunis shook his head again; the snow, and the chunks of ice that mixed in with his black hair, flew every which way. He felt a pressure on his right arm; after shaking his head, he looked down and saw that Bile had his hand wrapped tightly around his arm, right above his wrist. Bile's fingernails had punctured the flesh of his arm in numerous places.

"Le-k-t go of me, Bile." Guyunis said. He suddenly wanted to grab Bile up in a hug. Bile had broken his remembrance of his past. His big bruder had brought him back to the present, where he wasn't only being treated as one within a family but where he was also being treated with love and respect.

"Move your feet!" Bile said through gritted teeth as he yanked Guyunis towards and then around him. When Guyunis was in front of him he gave him a shove. Guyunis dropped to one of his knees then got up; he turned towards Bile questioningly.

"Wh..." it came back slowly. The sudden change in the weather; the heavier and faster falling snow; the pebble-sized hail that grew to the size of a fifty euro cent piece rather quickly; the rising winds... Guyunis turned around then started walking forward.

"Where's Lazeer?" Guyunis asked.

"Good question, he ran off after the hail started falling." Bile replied. "Franziska ran under the conveyor belt, think that's the best place to go."

"What's that sound?" Guyunis asked. The rumble-pops, that were sounding from the sky, seemed to be right loud and menacing. Guyunis detected the low-notes of thunder and he also saw flashes of yellow and red; when he looked up to see where the flashes were coming from Bile smacked him on the back of the head.

"Walk forward, and don't look up." Bile said.

"Ow, Bile! That hu—"

"Yeah, that hurt. So what, you'll be hurting more if you get hit in the face by the hail that's falling." Bile said.

He didn't like the idea of him and Guyunis being separated from Lazeer but, what could he do? Thanks to his slow reaction to the change in the weather, he hadn't been able to keep him and his brothers together. Lazeer's reaction time was perfect; he jumped to his feet then ran off, towards the trees, after the hail started falling. While Lazeer was still exposed to the elements, he was smart in finding some sort of cover to hide under. He raced right over to Guyunis right when visibility grew poor; the kid was just standing in place, with his arms stretched out, looking very much like a dark version of the Nelson Mandella statue, that was unveiled on the December 5, 2013, in Pretoria, South Africa. Guyunis had just stood in place, with his arms held out, the entire time that he was yelling for him to get under something. The entire time that he was running towards his brother, he was thinking about how spaced-out the kid looked. That thought was confirmed after he ran into him.

The snow, that was both falling and that had accumulated on the ground, was being thrown all over the place by the wind; the hail was now the size of a full grown man's fist, and it wasn't necessarily round. The hail that was falling was in all sorts of shapes; he saw conical shaped hailstones, he saw jagged-edged hailstones, he saw star-shaped hailstones, and he also saw round and square-shaped hailstones. All of the hailstones that were falling and mixing-in with the snow were staying the same size, which he thought was strange. He had never seen or heard of same-sized hail falling before and he bet that there were a lot of others that were saying or thinking the same thing.

"T-k-his is a normal storm, right?" Guyunis asked.

"Doubt it," Bile replied as he stretched his hand towards Guyunis's shoulder. He slid his hand on Guyunis's shoulder slowly; Guyunis glanced at his hand, then at him, without stopping. "While thunder and lightning have been recorded as happening during snowstorms, I don't think anything like the thunder or lightning that's happening in this storm has ever been recorded. Goes double for the rumble-pops that we're hearing and the same-sized hail."

"Where's mum?" Guyunis asked. He suddenly wanted his mother to be there, with him and his brothers. He was cold, his arm was bleeding, and he had a strange feeling that something bad was about to happen.

"Probably still at work." Bile replied. Before he could say anything else, four jagged-edged hailstones fell on his head. He felt the hailstones cut into the flesh of his elongated ears and he felt the warm wetness of his blood flow from the cuts that they created. Bile shook his head at the same time that a cone-shaped, fist-sized hailstone pegged Guyunis in the back of the head; as more hailstones dropped on him, making new cuts and bruises appear on his body, Bile pushed Guyunis forward. "We'd best get under that conveyor belt and fast, Bro. We're hot commodities for the hail."

"No kiddin-k-g!" Guyunis exclaimed.

While the belt of the conveyor structure had long since rotted away, the metal of the structure was still intact; they made good use of it after reaching it. Bile saw Franziska almost immediately; she was sitting, cross-legged, nearby, under a piece of metal grating that was offering her some protection from the elements. Franziska was raising her hand to show that she saw the two of them when Bile removed his black leather jacket from around his body; since Bile was busy with his jacket, Guyunis rose his hand to show that he saw her. The grating that Franziska took cover under was the only remaining grating on the structure. The other gratings had either rusted or fallen from the structure. The only thing that was over Bile and Guyunis's heads were two steel bars, that were quite rusty and holey. Bile, working just as fast as he could, tossed his jacket up, into the wind. He punched his fist up after the jacket settled over one of the two rusted steel bars; a strong, red-heated gust of wind rose out of his fist. The gust of wind made one of the jacket's sleeves fly up and then over the other rusted steel bar. Bile quickly pulled the jacket over the bar, so it would give him and Guyunis some cover; as he worked to snag the ends of the jacket's cuffs to one of the jagged-edged holes that were in the steel bars, Guyunis ran his hand over the back of his hair.

"Shit!" Guyunis cursed. The palm of his hand was covered in blood... and not just any blood at that. He knew his blood well so he knew that the reddish-green fluid, that was in the palm of his hand, was his.

"Like I said before, we were hot commodities for the hail." Bile returned. "Don't worry about it, G. The hail got me good as well, you're not the only bleeder under this structure."

Now that they were under some cover, Guyunis could safely look out at the landscape that was around him or at the sky that was above him. Just one look was enough to make his jaw drop; never in his life had he ever seen the sky look the way it currently did! He bet his left arm that Bile and Lazeer had also never seen the sky look the way that it currently did too. Before the storm came in, the sky was a single sheet of light gray. There were no clouds in the sky then; it had looked rather peaceful. Now, the sky looked rather ugly and menacing. The sky that was in front of and to the left and right of him was an ugly, dark gray color. There were low-hanging, heavy and rather ugly looking, multi-gray and black clouds in this new sky; these clouds would periodically splay out as a bolt of either yellow or red lightning shot out of them. He didn't know what compelled him to turn around and look out from under the conveyor belt, towards the Rhine river, but, once he got the urge to to do so, he did it.

The contents that were in his stomach—the Hostess cherry fruit pie, the snowball, and whatever remained of the chili, chips, and bacon bits that he ate for breakfast that morning—churned suddenly as the temperature in his stomach dropped.

"B-B-Bro..." he just barely managed to choke out. He pointed one, trembling finger towards the Rhine river after Bile turned towards him. "You ever... you ever see anythin-k-g like... like tha-k-t before, Bile?"

Bile rolled his eyes then turned towards the Rhine river. At first, all he saw was a wide river that had a thin layer of ice on it then, when he tilted his head up, he saw what his adoptive brother was so shocked over. The sky that was both over and on the other side of the Rhine river was a bruised, purple-red color. He was stunned to silence when he saw that there were all sorts of flashing lights coming out from that bruised sky.

For a few short seconds, he thought that what he was seeing was just cloud lightning then, after he got over his initial shock, he noticed that it wasn't what he thought he was seeing. He saw bolts, he saw intra-cloud, and he saw balls of radiating lightning, or ball-lightning, shooting out from that bruised, purple/red sky that was both over and on the other side of the Rhine river. While he had never seen ball-lightning before in his life, he had read up on it once, after Hazaar bought and then brought a book, that was on weather systems, home some years ago. Ball-lightning, that book claimed, was described and partially studied in 2014, but the report was lost sometime after it was published so, no one really knew anything about ball-lightning and no one knew of how dangerous it was... or if it existed. The book that Hazaar brought home had also listed several scientists that called balls on the phenomenon and the book had also quoted them same scientists as saying that ball-lightning was a sort of light trickery or a fabrication of truths.

"Oh, I hope someone has a camera or something and is capturing all of this as it unfolds." Bile thought as the red and green-colored lightning-balls rocketed out from the center of the bruised sky that was in front of him. "Good footage of this happening would put all of them damn, ball-lightning skeptics to sh—"

"Hey everyone!" Bile wheeled around. While Aubin sounded far away from him, his brother, and Franziska, he had still been able to hear him. "Talk or make some sort of noise so we know we're all here and accounted for."

A chorus of rather vicious sounding rumble-pops sounded from the Heavens, muting everyone's responding yells to Aubin's request in everyone either making some noise or saying something so they'd all know that everyone that should be in the area was in the area.

Bile shook his head; he couldn't remember how long it was since he last saw Angus or Aubin. He was wondering if they were still where he left them or if they got smart in finding something to wait-out the weather under. When he rushed off, towards Guyunis, Angus and Aubin were standing side by side. They had looked confused and bewildered when he left them. He hadn't really been thinking about his friends when he rushed off to retrieve Guyunis. He was pissed over the fact that he hadn't thought about trying to keep everyone together—it was only instinct that told the members of a group that they should stay together when the weather turned bad; it lessened the possibilities of panic, and bad injuries, and yet, here he was... with just Franziska and Guyunis. Lazeer ran off after the hail started to fall—he hadn't even thought about grabbing or telling him to come back. He left Angus and Aubin behind when he rushed off to grab and then take Guyunis to some place that was safe and Abelle, Aubin's younger sister, who he did think was rather attractive, hadn't returned from going off to use the bathroom. Was Abelle okay? Had she taken cover under something? Had she managed to find her way back to her brother?

"You fairing alright over there, Fran?" Bile yelled over at Franziska. Thanks to a sudden shift in the wind's direction, a barrage of hailstones were suddenly thrown at her. Bile grimaced as he watched his friend bat the hailstones away from her.

"Oh I'm just peachy, Bile!" Franziska yelled back. She scrambled to her feet then turned around, so she wasn't facing the hail.

"Where are we all?" Aubin's yell was barely audible, but Bile heard it.

"Ahhhhh-b-eeehhh-nnnn," a scream penetrated the area; it took Bile a short second to identify the screamer as Abelle. "I'm f-iiiiii-nuh!"

"Where are you, Abelle?" Aubin yelled back. Bile detected the notes of relief in his friend's yell.

"Under a bush!" Abelle's scream nearly overshadowed the roaring winds and the rumble-pops. "Where are you, Aubin?"

The falling snow and hailstones had gone in a westerly direction after the wind did its changing thing; Franziska was facing in that direction, so she was in the direct line of fire. He and Guyunis had either had their backs turned or were facing to the side of that direction. Aubin's response to Abelle's question was loud, but Bile's roar of pain was louder; the wind, yet again, suddenly changed directions so, instead of blowing in a westerly direction, it was now blowing north... right towards him. The heavy and fast-falling snow blew into his face; he held his hands up to shield his face from the snow—an action that he regretted doing at once!

Protecting one's face from injury from the elements was an instinctive thing; it was only by instinct that he held his hands up to keep his face safe from the elements but, instead of his face, he really should of either turned away from the wind-driven snow and hail or leaned his hands down to protect his still tender and sore left shin and knee.

He was quite surprised that morning, after waking and finding himself able to use his leg without feeling much pain; in the few hours that followed his and his family's return from the second-held Oktoberfest funfair, it sure gave him grief! It had also caused him grief for the following seven days. His shin had taken quite a beating on the night of the second-held Oktoberfest funfair; the man that was his adoptive father's stepfather and who, technically, was his adoptive grandfather, had really done a number on him. The edge of Good Ole Granddad Cheshire's tailor-made shoe had raked a rather long cut on his left shin; the fall that he took after his grandfather's energy band struck him had opened that cut up more. He had tried to keep his wound from his mother but she had found out anyways. He and she had fought over the wound after it was discovered.

"Bile, this macho-phase that you're going through needs to stop." his mother said a few hours after she got home on the day following their return from the second-held Oktoberfest funfair. Earlier that morning, he woke up yelling in pain. His shin and knee were balloon-sized and, while they both hurt him a great deal, he had plain refused to allow her to help him, which had resulted in their fight. She went to work mad, she worked all day while being mad at him, and she was still mad at him when she came home; he went through all of that day feeling like crap over having started their fight. "When you have a cut that's as bad as what you have on your leg you get it treated. You're a big boy, yes, but that doesn't mean that you're invincible. You're not impressing anyone and you're not helping yourself either."

The following day wasn't a good one for him either; while he tried to apologize, and make-up for what he did the day before, he had still been given the cold shoulder. The fight that he and Guyunis had on that same day, just twenty or so minutes before their mother came home from work, hadn't helped matters for him on getting back on his mother's good side. Guyunis was the main instigator of that fight; he said something pertaining to his stubbornness about not wanting his cut shin healed then he got physical with him. Guyunis pushed him twice, then asked him how he liked being pushed around, then pushed him some more, which resulted in him snapping. The fight, that happened in the room that their mother called the "Son Cave", was a right bad one. Both he and Guyunis were bleeding and bruised afterwards, and his shin and knee were screaming as well. Since ma wasn't at home at the time, Lhaklar had to break their fight up. He did so, but not before getting punched or thrown around a few times; his mother was more than pissed after coming home. He and Guyunis came very close to getting grounded on that day; ma had used a dish towel on them several times, and she also voiced her mind on how they behaved during her absence. While he and Guyunis felt ashamed of themselves for their fight, they had still not regarded one another in a good way afterwards.

His knee and shin were balloon-sized for the four days that followed his and his family's attendance at the second-held Oktoberfest; he nursed his wounds himself, and he also walked around with a very pronounced limp on them four days. Even though the swelling went down after them four days, he had still been in a lot of pain; just because his injured knee and shin dropped in size didn't meant that he didn't felt any pain when he used his leg. His knee and shin were a little under half the size of what they were earlier that week and, while his leg still pained him, the pain was much more bearable that day than it was earlier that week, which was one of the reasons for why he asked his mother if he could go off and spend some of that day with Angus and some of his friends. The other reason for why he asked her if he could go out with Angus and his friends was based on his desire to get back on her good side.

Even though his mother voiced how displeased she still was in him, after he called her to ask if he could go out with his friends that morning, she wasn't as cold towards him as she was eight days ago which, he fully thought and believed, was a good thing. The thought of his mother's coldness towards him having run its course was a strong one, but the thought of his mother's mood towards him being softened up by the two little gifts, and the little note that he left on the night table that was in her room, was a stronger one. He decided to brave the pain that he was feeling yesterday to go to Karlsruhe for a little "mother-gift-shopping"—most of the money that he was given to spend at the funfair, that Mr. Leinart invited his family to, wasn't used. He nearly had €200 on his person. He spent nearly all of that during his shopping.

The oval-shaped, blue rhinestone and imitation diamond ring was moderately expensive; the sterling silver necklace, that had a blue opal pendant hanging from it, had cost him the most. He wasn't worrying about being dirt-poor at the time, he had just been worrying about finding something for his mother that'd show her how sorry he was about his recent behavior. When he poked his head into his mother's bedroom that morning, he found that both the jewelry and the note—which simply said _I'm Sorry, Biley_ —were missing from her table. He wasn't one that poked or prodded in his mother's things; he went down to use the downstairs bathroom afterwards, thinking that she either put the jewelry away, in one of her dresser drawers, or that she went to work wearing them. After calling and then explaining the reason for why he wanted to leave the house, she gave him permission to go play with his friends, then, after a few seconds of silence, she said for him to take one or two of his brothers with him before hanging up.

The chunks of frozen water, that struck his left knee and shin, brought the pain that he felt during the previous eight days back, while the chunk of fist-sized frozen water, that sailed into his groin, made that pain become non-existent. His roar had no more been emitted before dying in his throat; he sank to his knees almost at once. He choked out some groans as the rest of his body was assaulted by more hailstones. As the hailstones hit him, caused his flesh to open and then bleed, he reached his hands down to cover the spot that had just been so cruelly struck by the one hailstone. His hands had no more grasped his groin before he dropped to the ground; when he felt the cold snow under his backside, he started to roll.

"Oh shit!" Guyunis exclaimed after seeing a greenish-red blob spread across the left knee of Bile's pants.

"My balls! Oh _shit_! My _fuckin'_ balls!" Bile wailed a few seconds later.

"Your knee..." Guyunis said. At the moment, that was all he could think of to say.

" _Fuck_ my knee! My knee can _bleed_... it can _freeze_ and then _fall off_ as much as I care!" Bile yelled.

"What's going on over there?" Aubin yelled as the wind changed directions again. "I hear someone yelling. Bile? Guyunis? Franziska? Lazeer? You four okay where you're at?"

" _Fuck no!_ "Bile roared.

"We're under the conveyor belt, Aub." Franziska yelled. She had gasped, and then pulled back, after seeing where the hailstone struck her friend. "Bile, Guyunis, and I are under the conveyor belt."

"How you three fairing?" Aubin yelled as Guyunis dropped to his knees then started to scoop handfuls of snow up from the ground. While Bile punched Guyunis's hands back, Guyunis still managed to shove three handfuls of snow down the front of his pants.

"I'm doing well, and I think Guyunis is okay." Franziska yelled back. "Bile, on the other hand, isn't. The hail hit him in a rather bad place—he's right bad hurt at the moment!"

Despite being a distance from where his brothers were, he heard Franziska's yell loud and clear. While he didn't really know what happened to make his brother yell in the way that he did, he had a pretty good idea on what happened—thanks to that idea, he was having a time in keeping his betraying mouth shut. All of the times that Bile said something to him, or to Hazaar, pertaining to testicle abuse or assault; all of the times that Bile had gotten on either he or Hazaar for when one or the other of them kicked or punched the other in the groin; and all of the times that Bile had silenced him when he made a testicular joke seemed to of been repaid in some unknown way by the hail. Bile had done plenty of assaults or abuses on testicles in his life, but had he been chided for them assaults or abusings? Most of the time, that was a no. Most of the time, Bile and the one that he testicularly assaulted or abused made up—mom was called in on the few times where that didn't happen; she made sure to get on Bile and then make him apologize to the one who he testicularly abused or assaulted afterwards.

He had acted by pure instinct after the hail started mixing in with the snow; he ran off then started looking for something—a hunter's platform or a tree that had many low-hanging branches or that had many branches that overlaid one another—to hide under. Instead of finding one of those two things to hide under, he found himself having to be content with hiding under the nearest tree that he came upon. The tree that he was under was one of them European Larch's. It was a young tree that had a reach of maybe ten or so feet; its branches were pretty thick so, in a sense, it was what he was hoping to find. Despite being the thing that he was hoping to find, he did have one problem with the tree—either it was diseased or it was shedding its needle-like, green-colored leaves. The tree's leaves were falling alarmingly fast from the branches that they were on. There was a fine layer of needle-like leaves around him and the base of the tree; he also had a good layer of the tree's leaves on his head and shoulders too.

While finding a tree to hide under was an instinctive thing, he didn't run off to find a tree to hide under because of his worry over the sun causing his photo-sensitive left eye to pain him. Hail was dangerous. It could make all sorts of cuts and scratches appear on a body and it could also put an eye out as well; his taking refuge under one of the trees that were in the Steinmauern Kiesgrube mining area was made to keep himself, and the injured half of his face, safe. He was okay with the snow that the wind was blowing in his face; it was causing his face to sting just a little but that was all. While he didn't have to worry about the sun making his photo-sensitive eye hurt, and while he didn't have to worry about the snow, he did have to worry about the hail.

While he didn't know where he was, or how close he was to Bile, Guyunis, or Franziska, he did know where Abelle was. The snow and hail had slowed down a little and visibility had cleared up a touch after the wind did its first sudden change in direction; he took advantage of the opportunity to look around and get his bearings when that happened. He glanced around quickly and, in that quick glance-over, he saw Abelle. She was sitting, all safe and sound, under a thick bush that was about ten or fifteen feet to his left. Before the weather settled back to its former fury, he was able to see that the bush that she was sitting under wasn't the only thing that was protecting her from the elements—there were several trees around her; nearly all of their middle and lower branches had become tangled around one another in the past. The hail was practically bouncing off them tangled branches. He shook his head when he felt a glob of snow fall on him; the red toboggan hat, that he left home wearing, wasn't on his head at the moment. He took it off after it started to irritate the bruising that was on the left side of his forehead.

"You'd be amazed at what cold air can do to one's injuries, Lazie." he remembered his mother saying two days ago, after coming home and then asking him what he did during her absence. Instead of lying, he confessed to staying inside after Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Guyunis went out in the backyard to play in the snow. "The cold helps prevent infection and it also speeds up the healing process; instead of staying inside, you should take advantage of day's like today. You never know what tomorrow will bring—for all we know, it may be a scorcher or everything may just freeze up."

"While I like the snow, I do wish that the weather would make up its mind." he said back. "Cold one day, hot the next, maybe snowing or raining the next, and so on. How's one to plan for the day when the weather is... you know, the way it is?"

His mother had a feeling that his father was the one responsible for the weather's unpredictability; while she was vague on the issue, she had said something around the area of thinking that his father's entrance to the planet had caused the planet's weather patterns to be knocked for a loop. Lhaklar thought that she was right in thinking that. So did Bile, for that matter. When he walked in on his mother a few days ago, when she was on the phone with Mr. Leinart, he could of swore that she told Mr. Leinart her feeling as well—and he could of swore that Mr. Leinart had said something about the planet's ozone layers too. He came close to wishing that his mother had purchased another phone for the house on the day that he heard Mr. Leinart say something about the planet's ozone layers—he had been, and he still was, curious about what Mr. Leinart said about the planet's ozone layers. His mother had said nothing on what she and Mr. Leinart had talked about on the phone, and he hadn't asked her what she and her friend had talked about.

He didn't know how long it was before Bile's loud moans and cries ceased but, when they did, his mouth decided to work. There were now flashes of purple, green, and blue mixing in with the yellow and red lightning that was flashing in or coming down from the multi-gray and black clouds that were in the dark gray sky to his left, right, and directly behind him, and there was a slight shake going on with the ground underneath him that he, at first, mistook as plain vibration caused by the rumble-pops that were still sounding from the sky above. The snow, it seemed, was falling at a much slower pace. The hail had, without a doubt, slowed down. The wind was still blowing maniacally around him, so he knew that the storm hadn't moved on. The ground vibration that was going on under his feet grew steadily until, finally, he noticed that a mild earthquake was happening. It was at the same time that he noticed the mild quake that his mouth opened.

"Hey Bile!" Lazeer hoped that his yell went in the direction that his oldest brother was in. Thanks to the rumble-pops that were sounding above him, in the sky, he had to put a lot of effort in on his yell.

"What!" Bile practically roared back.

"I bet Hazaar's having a bird over staying home now," Lazeer yelled. "The Sourpuss is missing out on the hail and the light show, man."

"We'll have to send him tickets to the next one." Bile yelled. A rather vicious rumble-pop droned out the subsequent yell that Bile did.

"What? I couldn't hear you!" Lazeer's throat felt a bit dry and scratchy after that yell.

"I said, I bet the Party-pooper is doing cartwheels over our being out in this mess!" Bile repeated what the rumble-pop had droned out.

If he had yelled out a reply, it would of been lost. The storm suddenly got angrier. It seemed that the short period of weakening had caused the storm to grow furious; the wind changed directions, the thunder and the rumble-pops that were sounding from the sky above grew louder and more menacing, and the snow and hail fell at a faster pace. Even if he yelled like a barbarian, Bile wouldn't hear him. He shook his head then cleared his throat. He spoke lowly and found that his throat was more than a little dry and scratchy—the last yell that he made had caused something to happen with not only his throat but also his vocal cords. He felt damn sore in the throat now; he couldn't yell, much less speak normally. He'd either have to speak in a low whisper or just plain nod or shake his head or gesture with his hands if any sort of conversation happened between he and his two brothers or he and one of the human teenagers after the weather calmed down.

The wind was now blowing towards him; it brought not only the snow but also the hail with it. His action of turning around must of been anticipated because the wind suddenly changed from blowing in its new, easterly direction. It lashed at him; made his light brown leather shearling sheepskin jacket flap every which way as it blew in its new, southerly direction. With the thought of the left side of his heavily injured face being in the direct line of fire firmly placed in his brain, he turned his body. He was in the process of turning his body from the wind-swept hail and snow when three large hailstones slapped against the side of his face that he was trying to protect.

The first hailstone slammed into his left cheek while the second and third hailstones rained into his injured eye; he let out the loudest sound that his sore throat would allow him to make then he turned completely around. He was now facing the trunk of the European Larch that he took refuge under so, without putting any thought into what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around the tree's trunk. He buried his face into the tree's trunk then waited for the wind to die down some and for the hail to either be blown away from him or to stop.

"I believe ya about how the cold air will do one's injuries good, ma, but I don't think this weather is going to do anything good for the left side of my face." Lazeer thought. The thought that came afterwards was a sad one. He wished he had some Aleve on him because the left side of his face was really paining him now. The two hailstones that slammed into his left eye had re-opened the gash that went across that eye; he could feel new blood flowing from the gash. He didn't much like that. "First that fair guard and now two hailstones, my eye will probably never heal."

He didn't need to be told that his final descent to the planet was heard by many; the start of his descent was quiet, while the conclusion was quite loud. A roar, and a loud one at that, was heard all over Germany and by the the denizens of four of Germany's nine bordering countries; it caused everyone and everything within a hundred mile radius to scream out in pain and shock. The roar that was caused by his final descent to the planet would, later on, be compared by scientists that worked and resided all over Europe to that of what was recorded after Krakatoa exploded on August 26, 1883—at the moment, no one cared about the comparison to the Krakatoa explosion. The roar that came from his final descent would, in a few hours time, cause all manner of ear-related traumas to over a thousand people—all of whom had taken shelter under some surface after the weather suddenly changed for the worse.

After finishing his descent, he found himself having to take to his right hand from the wheel—his ship had started to vibrate violently after his final descent. He grabbed the vibration control stick, that was to his right, then pulled it to its original position quickly. Since his index finger was too far from the button, he shot a thin bolt of energy from the end of his finger—that action of his caused the blue button that kept the vibration control stick in place to dislodge immediately. His hand was no more returned to the wheel before it was removed again; this time, he had to adjust the pressure valve that was above his head—the pressure gauge that was in front of the wheel had read in the orange; he had to act fast in adjusting the valve that was above his head to get some of that pressure stabilized.

It took him only a second to locate the larger of the nine valves that were above his head. When he found the valve that he was looking for, he grabbed and then twisted it to being half-open. He pulled his arm down then wrapped his hand around the wheel after that was done; the wheel was slowly turned to the right afterwards.

Driving through a planet's final atmosphere and ozone layer was never easy; he preferred to compare it to how a woman gave birth, because that was really the only way he could explain the drive through the last of a planet's atmospheres and ozone layers.

"Why not refer to it as that?" he asked his stepmother, Malakay Surfeit, née Dubalakee, after she gasped and then told him in her usual, meek voice to not compare planetary visitations or travel to that of a child being born. RikiVile Levav Surfeit, his younger, half-brother, who was a grown man at the time, and who was also getting ready for his first planetary conquest, had asked him what it "felt like" when a spacecraft was driven into a planet; he just gave an honest answer back. He went on to give both his half-brother and his stepmother a vague description of what he was talking about. "The space beyond a planet's known atmospheres and ozone layers is like that of a womb while the planet's known atmospheres and ozone layers is like the birth canal. The exit from the last atmosphere is much like that of a woman giving that last push to get her unborn baby out of her."

Regardless of the fact that he wasn't with anyone steady at the time, he had known quite a lot about pregnancies and child-birth; his father, RaalVile Dawlur Surfeit, had agreed with him on his opinion on how it was like when a ship was driven into a planet. He had even stepped in to offer his own, similar, explanation to what it was like when one drove a ship into a planet. Both his father, his birth-mother, his stepmother, and all of his siblings were gone now. The disease known as Shlock's Plague, that had the M-51 Galaxy in its grip for over a hundred years, had claimed all of them. Sadly, even his two daughters from his two previous engagements—EbaishaVile Etalett Surfeit, the only child that was born alive from his first and only marriage, and EblouissieVile Axodaa Surfeit, the only child that was born alive from his first fiancée—were lost to it.

Shlock's Plague wasn't a discriminating plague; it claimed just about everyone that it came in contact with—the healthy, the strong, the weak, the young, etc. There were also reports on how young children were left parent-less after the plague blew in. His family had very nearly been wiped out by that damn plague; he had done all that he could think of at the time to keep himself and his then-young son sealed away from the plague that was claiming lives outside of their house. After a hundred and eighty-nine years of just waiting it out inside the house, a report came through on one of his small radios that claimed that a vaccine had been made. At the time of the vaccine's creation, there were only fifty thousand souls still alive on Gamma Vile; the plague had claimed millions of lives—his then-young son, he did believe, had come very close to being among the plague victims.

He and Duru came down with the fevers, and the hot and cold chills, three months before the vaccine was completed, then the rash appeared on their bodies. He used almost all of the honey and oatmeal supplies that was in the pantry on both he and his son; they had bathed in that shit for all of two months and three weeks, before the report came in, saying that a vaccine had been made to combat the plague. His son went into a semi coma-like state on the day that the vaccine was put out for the survivors that were in his birth and home galaxy. Like the experience that he had on Jupiter, he hoped that he would never have to go through another experience like the one that he and his son went through when Shlock's Plague was waging war on the masses of the M-51 Galaxy. Shlock's Plague was one hell of an emotional roller coaster for him; his experience in being stranded on Jupiter with eighty-nine other souls was pale in comparison to what happened during the Plague years.

He glanced at his lap for only a second then looked back at the ship's windshield; his ship's communications board had said that he was driving over the far west corner of a commune in north-eastern France that was called Mothern and, indeed, the print-out that he had on his lap had shown that he was flying over that location. The print-out that was on his lap showed that there was a large river separating Mothern from two nature reserves. He was driving over said large river, that the humans in the area that he was headed towards called the Rhine, now. The river in his present location looked to be half-frozen; the non-frozen parts were churning rather angrily. There was steam rising up from the parts of the river that were still frozen. The area that was directly in front of him, that was on the banks of the half-frozen Rhine river, was very heavily forested over. It looked like it had once been a clearing of some sort.

As he turned the hourglass-shaped wheel to the right, he glanced at the area that had once been a clearing; he saw that it had a few rusted or unused vehicles in it and he also took note of the small, medium, and tall Larch trees and the snow-covered bushes that were growing in and around it. He had time to see that there were two people in the area that had all the rusted or unused machinery in it before the realization of how long he had gone without eating a meal, and without taking a shower, popped into his head. The two people that were in the clearing seemed to be either lying down or rolling around on the ground; he wasn't really sure of what they were doing and he really didn't care at the moment. He drove his ship down the river, away from the two people that were in the clearing; he didn't have time to think it over on why them two people were in the area, and he didn't have time to wonder who them two people were, or if the two people that he saw were just people looking for scrap metal or old machinery parts for some project of theirs that they were doing, or if they were hunters. His gurgling stomach made him speed up his progress to the area where his only son's, his two grandsons', and his uncle's camps were in.

He went by a routine after he took to the helm of a ship—once he was in the driver's seat, and once them belts were strapped around him, he fasted. He refused to take in food, drink, and he also refused to leave the helm to shower or use the toilet. He had spent all of two days and twenty hours behind the wheel of his ship; he was starving and he had a stink to him that was pretty revolting. He had four objectives on his mind to do now: find the area where his family's camps were; land his ship, then run all the necessary protocols afterwards; then do all the appropriate activities in his appointed chamber's bathroom—use the toilet, shower, shave, etc.—, then eat a good meal.

"Gamma Ship Urumbuis-12 to Surfeit Camp, requesting clearance for landing. Over." he said after reaching the area where his son's ship, his two grandsons' ships, and his uncle's ship were parked in. He had the CB radio microphone in his left hand; he was currently circling the area where his family's camps were set-up in. "I repeat, Gamma Ship Urumbuis-12 to Surfeit Camp, request—"

"Surfeit Camp to Gamma Ship Urumbuis-12, you are clear for landing." his son's voice came through his radio loud and clear.

The deafening road that made Angus collapse and then roll back and forth on the ground; that made Abelle grab and then squeeze her ears as she rolled around on the ground, that was under the bush that she took refuge under after the hail started to fall; that made Lazeer punch at the sides of his head, where his ears were located; that made Bile slam his head repeatedly into the snow in an attempt to stop the pain that he was feeling in his ears; that made Guyunis squeeze the sides of his head, where his ears were located, as tightly as he could; that made Franziska crouch as low to the snow-covered ground as she could, with her hands pressed tightly to her ears; and that made Aubin clap at his ears as he collapsed to his side, had signaled yet another change in the weather.

The fist-sized hail didn't taper off like one would normally think it would—it completely and inexplicably stopped falling from the sky right after the roar was heard. The lightning and the thunder stopped right after the hail stopped falling from the sky, while the speed of the wind dropped down to a very mild breeze. The heavy snowfall dropped to a mild flurry. Because of the visibility, which went from being very poor to very good, Baruk and his group—who dropped to the ground, screaming in terror and pain, and who stayed either on their sides or on their stomachs for all of five minutes after the roar sounded—could now look out from under the bridge that they took refuge under. What they saw stunned them; the rumble-pops, that started right when the hail started to fall, were still sounding above them, but they were now very faint. It took only thirty seconds before they ceased being heard. It looked as if no storm had happened eight minutes after the roar that made thousands scream and act-out their pains occurred; by around the nine minute mark, Baruk was taking his first tentative steps out from under the bridge that he, his siblings, and the rest of his group were under.

" _Whoa!_ Someone _sure_ knows how to _make_ an entrance!" Baruk exclaimed after going a considerable distance of nearly ten yards from the bridge.

"Where are we?" Blaiga asked. "Baruk, do you know where we are?"

"Of course he doesn't you oaf!" Kaasa scoffed. "He doesn't know where we are, or where camp is, and he also doesn't know—"

"We're near a town," Baruk said. Frustration was very evident in his voice. "Some town near the river."

In the back recesses of his mind, he heard his mother telling him to not interrupt others; he gently and carefully put a block over her voice as he looked at the area that was in front of him. He didn't so much interrupt his sister to keep control of his group, or to show her up—his sister had been berating him for all of thirty minutes and he was downright sick of it! What happened for Kaasa to be constantly berating him? Well, about thirty-five or so minutes ago, after he recruited Gaajah and Selik, and then Eshal, Phaggo, and Blaiga into his then-small group, that consisted of just him and his two younger siblings, he instructed that they all teleport to this little-used path that led away from their folks' camps. They set off eagerly. They teleported to the path with no fuss after he said for them to and they followed him down that path obediently and without getting on his nerves... at first.

His sister, about five minutes after he started leading them down that little-used path, had started asking him questions on where they were going and on what was at the end of the path and on what they were going to do after they reached their destination. He answered her questions quickly and honestly, at first, then, after she continued to ask them same damn questions over and over again, he started to ignore her. Three or four minutes of silence happened then, after the snow started to come down faster and harder, and after the wind picked up, she started to complain. His sister had very nearly driven him insane by saying such things as, _Oh, my legs hurt me so bad, are we there yet? Oh, I'm so cold, are we there yet? My face feels like its about to fall off, Baruk! My feet are killing me, Baruk!_ over and over again _._ His nerves were close to being torn to pieces by then and his general attitude wasn't very good either. By the time she started on him, berating him on his knowledge of the paths that led away from their folks' camps, and berating him on how he had gotten them lost, he was close to wheeling around to tell her to either shut up or go back to camp... and not in the best or in the nicest of ways either. He was angry enough to shout a torrent of bad words at one of his parents then, that was how angry he was.

His sister implied very early on during her first round of berating him that he had gotten them lost on purpose, which wasn't true. He had just gotten his little-used paths mixed up. Instead of telling his group to teleport back to camp, like he should of done, he decided to take them down the unknown path to see what was on the other end. No one was against doing that; everyone had wanted to know where the path led to and everyone was willing to follow him as he started down the path. Kaasa included in the mix.

The path that he wanted to take his group down had also been little-used, but he knew where it went. That one path went to a small clearing, where a few trees and a bunch of bushes grew and where quite a few things were left out and in the open. The first time he went to that clearing, he wanted to bring a few things back; he was too pressed for time to rummage through and then pick something that was worth bringing back to camp, though. If he didn't get his little-used paths mixed up, this would of been his second time visiting that clearing. If the path that he and his group teleported to was the path that he went down that one time they would of had a blast in scavenging items to take back to camp to show their parents. Instead of looking for things to take back to camp, that the humans had either thrown away or to the side some time ago, he and his group were cold and miserable in their trek down that unknown, little-used path. Maybe that had elevated his sister's mood some; she had sure hurt his feelings with her constant berating and she had really gotten on his nerves too.

 _"Go on, Baruk."_ his father said to him, after he grabbed his coat sleeve then asked if he could get his permission to go to some other place three times. His father was pretty angry and annoyed with him then; while his father might not be angry with him now, he might still be annoyed with him. _"Take Kaasa and Sudir with you."_

Done deal, Daddy-O! He grabbed Sudir, then motioned for Kaasa to follow him to where Trobrencus's camp was. While he didn't think highly of Bohir, or of anyone in Bohir's family, he had still been hoping that he and his younger sister, Fleebe, were still out. Sadly, when he and his siblings reached Trobrencus's camp, they found that it was very free of activity. Whoever it was that he saw out and about in Trobrencus's camp earlier had either gone inside or decided to go adventure walking without him and his group. He went over to his grandfather's camp next; his grandfather had told him to take his three kids—Gaajah, Uevaa, and Selik—with him and he had full intentions in doing just that. He had only been able to recruit Gaajah and his "baby" brother, Selik, into his group—according to Selik, Uevaa was in their father's ship, helping their mother bake cookies.

Gaajah and Selik were all too happy to join-in on what he had planned when they joined him and his two siblings; after recruiting Gaajah and Selik to his group, he trudged none-too-enthusiastically over to where his uncle's camp was. Uncle Tazir had said for him to take his daughter, Eshal, and the two Ubalki-peasant kids, Phaggo and Blaiga, with him too. While he was eager to add his grandfather's kids, and while he might of wanted Bohir and maybe Fleebe to join his group, he hadn't really been all that eager in asking Eshal, Phaggo, and Blaiga if they wanted to come along.

"My dad told you to take me, Phaggo, and Blaiga with you?" Eshal said after he explained why he, his two siblings, and Gaajah and Selik had wandered into her father's camp. Eshal had looked pretty reluctant to join his group; he had actually been hoping that she would turn his offer down but, sadly, she had said _okay, I have nothing better to do at the moment anyways_ instead. Phaggo and Blaiga had only come along because of Eshal; they would of stayed behind if Eshal had said no in joining his group.

In a way, he wished that the three of them—Eshal, Phaggo, and Blaiga—had turned his offer of joining his group for a walk down one of the paths that led away from their folks' camps down and he really wished that his sister hadn't come along too. His sister's constant questions and berating, and the bad promises that she only added in to make his heart beat a little faster, was bad. So had Phaggo's and Blaiga's slowness, for that matter; Eshal being a dead-weight was a lot worse, though.

Eshal, according to his father, had turned into a nervous and emotional wreck after her father's ship was parked in the nature preserve. Eshal's father had asked for her, Mr. and Mrs. Ubalki, and their two adult kids—Efagti and Amadh—, and a few of his staff to accompany him to Washington D.C. right after he landed his ship; they went to visit his oldest brother. From what his father told him and his siblings a few weeks ago, something happened that hurt Eshal mentally.

"From what your uncle told me, your brother tried to attack Eshal after they paid him a visit." they were told. He and his siblings had just stared at their father—Vile had tried to attack Eshal? His oldest brother had tried to attack not only a member of the family, and not only a girl, but also someone who was thousands of years younger than he? While he had heard stories on how his brother had attacked certain members of the family before, he hadn't really believed his father when he told him, Kaasa, and Sudir that their brother tried to attack Eshal. Only after seeing how much of a wreck Eshal was had they believed what they were told. Eshal was pretty jumpy for a few weeks following his brother's attempted attack on her; she also refused to leave her father's ship without having someone at her side as well. While he didn't see her get emotional he did believe that she was emotionally fragile too.

Either Eshal had gotten over her nervousness, and over what happened between her and his brother, or she was trying to force herself to be normal; though initially reluctant to join his group, she was very firm with her decision and, other than the nurse routine, she hadn't acted in any way clingy with anyone while on the walk down the little-used path that he got them to teleport to.

Eshal had acted like a damn nurse while they were walking down that path; she was going back and forth, from one person to the next, to see how everyone was doing and to see if everyone was feeling alight or not. Along with being embarrassed by her actions, he also brushed her off when she came to see if he was doing alright or not.

While he was planning on obeying his grandfather in taking all three of his kids with him, he was glad that Uevaa was too "busy" to join his group. Much like he and Gaajah, Uevaa and Kaasa got along like two peas in a pod—besides doing all them girlie-things, like makeup, dress-up, and girl-gossip, they were also big on teaming up to tease, taunt, or make trouble for people of the opposite gender. Uevaa would of joined Kaasa with the berating if she had been available to join his group. Having one person berating you was bad, having two was much worse.

All of the girls were raving mad when they exited the woods that were on either side of the little-used path that he led them down. He took a lot of abuse from his sister after they walked out of the woods. Except for Phaggo, he and the rest of the boys in his group had wanted to keep going; the girls had just wanted to stop and "hide" under the bridge that they were still under to wait the weather out. A verbal fight had started between he, Kaasa, and Blaiga about taking refuge under the bridge; he was stubborn in not listening to them. He was leading Gaajah, Sudir, and Selik away from the bridge when Selik accidentally stepped on the thinly iced over Murg river. Selik went knee-deep in freezing cold water; before leaping out of the river, he cried out in shock. Kaasa and Eshal raced out from under the silly bridge that the girls, and Phaggo, were hiding under to retrieve Gaajah, Selik, and Sudir; they led only Sudir and Selik to the bridge then they returned for him and Gaajah.

Another fight happened. Kaasa had hurt his feelings pretty bad and she had also promised to tell their parents about how he behaved while on the trip down the little-used path—he did quite a lot of cursing while on that path; their parents were very hard on all of them when it came to their using curse words. Other than the usual bar of soap in the mouth, he had also been slapped in the face and rear, and he had also been whipped with a belt, for using curse words. He only went under the bridge after the snow started coming down harder and after the wind picked up and after the hail started to fall. Selik was sitting on the right side of the bridge. He was shivering pretty badly, but he had insisted that he was fine when "Nurse" Eshal went over to ask if he was alright or not. Sudir was with him, so was Phaggo. He and Gaajah had just decided to join them on that side of the bridge. At the time, he, Gaajah, Sudir, and Selik had thought that being on that side of the bridge was better... better to be on the right side of the bridge than to be on the left side of the bridge, were his annoying little sister and the other fun-sucking girls were.

"Kie—gr—be," he murmured. The sign that was in front of him—which was quite rusty and dirt-encrusted—was screwed onto a steel beam. The sign was of the aluminum kind; not only did it look to of been an orange color at one time but it also looked like it had once had thick, black bordering to it. The few black letters that were on the sign were badly faded, but he was able to read them.

The town beyond the sign was in ruin. He couldn't believe that the region's humans had let it go like they had! While having seen abandoned towns before—when he and his family were in Green River, Wyoming, he did a lot of wandering around; there were a lot of abandoned towns in that area and he had seen some of them—, this one looked... quite morbid. The housing buildings, that were around the town, were either leaning far over or were laying on their foundations in pieces. He was surprised that the ones that were leaning were still standing. There were trees and bushes galore growing in areas that had once been yards. There were cars that had either rusted to the ground or had fallen apart where they stood; Baruk thought he saw a few jungle gyms and kiddie pools in what he believed were the residential units' backyards, but he wasn't sure, because of all the foliage that was in the area.

Most of the houses that were built around the town were nearly the same size and make and it looked like they had all had vinyl siding on their outsides at one time; the houses that were still standing were stripped of all of their vinyl sidings, and all of their windows were missing. Baruk took in a deep breath then shot his arms out. The gust of blue air, that flew out from the palms of his hands, blew the snow that was in front of him back. A road, all cracked and in need of some serious maintenance, was under his feet. The cracks that were deeper in the road were spewing out a thick, vaporous steam—he knew better than to investigate the steam vents; Triskull had warned him and Sudir about how hot the steam was and Sudir had even commented on how hot it was after he started digging under the snow, where a steam vent was, earlier.

Baruk repeated the move that he did to get the snow that was in front of him blown away three more times before walking forward; as he took in more of the town, he started looking for a souvenir or two to take back to camp with him—a little something that would, at least, show that all of his pains during the last thirty-five minutes hadn't been for nothing.

"M-maybe we shouldn't stick around," Blaiga said. Baruk picked a weather-warped board, that had several, rust-covered nails in it, up. He examined the board for only a second before discarding it. "They'll probably want us back, we sh—"

"We'd of heard from them by now," Sudir said. "If it was important, or if some intruder just came to the planet, we would of either heard from them or one of them would of come to retrieve us."

Baruk looked over his shoulder at the same time that the snow started to fall heavier and faster; the girl that said something about how they shouldn't stick around had taken maybe a step or two out from under the bridge. It looked like she was trying to look at everything at once and it also looked like she was nervous, which he thought was hilarious. While he didn't know much about the Ubalki's he did know that Blaiga Ubalki was the fourth child and the first daughter born to Cheshire Ubalki and the woman who had once been his grandfather's third wife. Blaiga Ubalki was a pureblood Zetakin and she looked like one too; she had an upside down, teardrop-shaped head from which two, large and brightly silver, oval-shaped eyes looked out from. There were two holes where a nose would normally be under her eyes and there was an O-shaped mouth, that sported thin lips, underneath them nose-holes. Like her mother, father, and siblings, Blaiga had suction cups on the tips of each of her fingers. She had dark blue skin that was very feminine looking; she stood just five foot, one and half inches.

Blaiga Ubalki was wearing a long, grayish-purple wool coat that had a simple, self-tie around the waist; he thought that the coat resembled a bath robe more than a coat and he came very close to saying that twice while on the walk down the little-used path that they teleported to. Blaiga was wearing a long sleeve, purple shirt and a pair of blue pants, that had paint splotches on the outer thigh, under the coat. The waterproof, faux fur insulated snow boots, that were on her feet, did nothing to make her look taller. Baruk didn't know how old Blaiga was; he knew that she was older than he was, and he also knew that she was younger than her brother, but he couldn't remember her exact age.

Sudir came out from under the bridge next. He looked around for a bit before going towards a pile of bricks; he was sifting through the bricks when Blaiga Ubalki's older brother decided to venture out from under the bridge.

Phaggo and Blaiga looked very much a-like; one would only have to look at them to know that they were related. Like Blaiga, Phaggo had dark blue skin and an upside down, teardrop-shaped head that two, large and brightly silver, oval-shaped eyes looked out from. Like Blaiga, Phaggo had two holes where a nose would normally be under his eyes; while the O-shaped mouth, that was under them two holes, resembled Blaiga's, the lips that were on it didn't. Phaggo's lips weren't thin nor were they even. Like Blaiga, Phaggo also had suction cups on the tips of each of his fingers. Phaggo had a brown leather jacket on over a white, long sleeve shirt that had white buttons going down the front. Phaggo's faded blue pants were loose on him; he had a pair of blue tennis shoes on his feet. Phaggo stood six foot, one and a half inches. Like Blaiga, Baruk didn't know how old Phaggo was. He knew that Phaggo was older than he was, and he also knew that Phaggo was older than Blaiga, but he didn't know Phaggo's exact age.

"Come on, everyone." Kaasa said quite loudly. "Time to head back. Our parents probably want us back in camp."

Blaiga and Phaggo looked over at Kaasa; they looked half-willing to do as she had just told them to do before deciding to go and do as Sudir was doing. Kaasa sighed when she saw that neither he, Sudir, Blaiga, or Phaggo were going to do as she wanted them to do then walked over towards what looked like the remnants of a stone well. Eshal, the next one to come out from under the bridge, came out right when the wind picked up; she shivered, then pulled the long, red-brown rabbit fur coat that, Baruk guessed, had cost her father a good penny and a half around herself tighter. Eshal gave the area a good looking over before walking towards him; she walked right by him without stopping to say hello or to ask if he was alright or not. Baruk sighed in relief; when he saw that she was coming towards him, he had readied himself for another of her nurse-play moments. He was glad that she was leaving him alone.

Baruk was walking over to a rather long box, that had a fine layer of moss and mold growing on its sides, when Gaajah and Gaajah's younger brother, Selik, walked out from under the bridge. After reaching the box, Baruk dropped to his knees then opened it; he braved the box's pungent odor as he started rummaging through its contents. He had just wiped the side of his head with his coat sleeve when Gaajah gave Selik, who was just standing in place, shivering in an almost violent sort of way, a slight push to get going. After pushing his brother, Gaajah walked towards Baruk, who was now trying to stifle a sneeze.

GaajahVile Vulbub Surfeit, or just Gaajah to his family and friends, looked nothing like his father or older brother in appearance. His skin wasn't bi-colored and he didn't have ears that went the full or even half the length of his shoulders; he had light blue skin and a normal-sized head from which two, slightly elongated ears stuck out from. His slightly elongated ears were a tinge darker than the rest of him; they had just one, black, Tiger-like stripe on them. His body build was very unlike that of his father and older brother's—it was lean; the immature muscle, that was on it, made him look physically behind in development. The only things that he had that said that he was DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit's son were his eyes—which were a glowing green color; there were yellow pupils in their centers. He stood a good, six foot, two inches—which, according to his father, was a little under the usual height for a male of Surfeit breeding. The fingernails that came out from the ends of each of his fingers were a dark blue color; they were filed to fine points.

Almost all of what Gaajah was wearing was worn by his father when he was a teenager. The long, dark gray, double-breasted peacoat, that was over a long, red velvet and satin overcoat, that had dull gold buttons and embroidery down the front, were very old, but there was not a stitch out of place nor a button missing on them. The red, long sleeved, button down shirt, that had a bright red vest, that had gold ties on it, were also old but in very good shape. The red pants that were tied at his knees by garter strings, and the pair of white stockings, and the pair of dark brown shoes, that had a silver buckle on their tops, looked a little worn-out; there was a small tear to Gaajah's left stocking and his shoes were slightly scuffed up. Gaajah had once confided to Baruk that the only things that he wore that hadn't been worn by his father were his underwear—while his father had let him to "slip" in that wardrobe choice, he was adamant that he wear what he, himself, had worn in his youth. Gaajah had just recently aged a year; he was two thousand and one years old.

Gaajah's younger brother, SelikVile Oan Surfeit, was under the same dressing regiment. SelikVile, or just plain Selik to his family and friends, looked like only half of what his and Gaajah's father called a typical Surfeit. His skin was bi-colored, with the left side of his head and body being dark red and the right being fully silver; unlike his father and older siblings, he had a pair of horns on his head that were nearly ten inches long—along with having several rings on them, and having three twists to them, they were a dark red color. Instead of having the typical elongated ears of a Surfeit, Selik had normal, human-like ears that were slightly elfish. The eyes that were in Selik's face were oppositely colored than his father and older brother's—a bright glowing, yellow color, with green pupils in their centers. His fingers had long, and sharply pointed, dark silver fingernails on their ends; he stood exactly six feet tall. There was no hint of muscle on his lean body. Selik was just one month shy of his one thousand, six hundred, and tenth birthday.

The hems of the waist-high, brown-colored peacoat, that was over a white, long sleeve, button down shirt, that had lace cuffs and gold buttons going down its front, were slightly faded—the coat was worn by his father when he was a teenager; it had already been fading on the hems when he gave it to his son. Selik's black pants went down to his knees; like Gaajah, Selik's pants were tied tightly at the knee by garter strings. The white stockings that came down from the pants were wet; their were many holes in them. Baruk had a feeling that his grandfather was going to hit the roof when he saw the state of Gaajah's and Selik's stockings. The stockings went into a pair of black shoes, that had a large, silver buckle on their sides. The wind was causing the black, frilly lace cravat tie, that was around Selik's neck, to blow all over the place; Selik wasn't putting much worry in on the tie, though. He was more concerned over how cold he was. He looked downright miserable! Like Gaajah's clothing, everything that Selik was wearing had once been worn by his and Gaajah's father during his youth.

"Cool," Baruk said. He held a rather rusty, sawback bayonet butcher knife, that was missing its handle, up. Gaajah looked at the knife then reached into the box that Baruk was looking through. Baruk shoved him none-too-kindly back; he gave Gaajah a stern, Stay-Back look before placing the bayonet knife on the ground, beside him. "Finders keepers, losers leapers. You're a loser, go find your own box to look through."

"In your dreams, Baruk." Gaajah returned. Since there were a few boxes nearby, he went to them. Baruk sifted through the box that he found the bayonet knife in for a few more minutes before getting up and then going over to where Gaajah was. Gaajah imitated Baruk's shove and then his stern, Stay-Back glare when his friend—who was also, technically, his nephew—tried to muscle him back so he could look through the box that he was looking through. Although it was no contest—Baruk was way more stronger than he—, he still stood his ground. Baruk walked over to the box that was two feet away a few seconds later.

"Grampy coming?" Baruk asked two minutes later.

"Think so," Gaajah replied. He made an excited sound after finding a stainless steel, two-pronged fork and butter knife, that had flintlock handles, that were complete with trigger, cock, frizzen, barrel, and muzzle attachments. He pocketed the two utensils then started looking through the contents that were in the box that was next to the one that he had found the two utensils in. "Did a little overhearing a few days ago when my dad was on the phone with his dad."

"What'd grampy say?" Baruk asked. He knew how dangerous it was for anyone to eavesdrop on his grandfather. If his grandfather found that he had a listener on the other end of the line he was apt to do more than just yell... the eavesdropper would surely be getting a verbal scolding and then a beating.

"Just to be on the look-out," Gaajah replied. "He never said when he was going to load his ship, or take off, or even show up. He just—"

The item that he had just found was cool, and he was very excited about finding it, but the item, a sterling silver, casket-styled jewelry box, that had a silver-toned snuff bottle, that had either a real emerald and sapphire or an imitation emerald and sapphire on it, attached to it, wasn't the reason for why he left his sentence unfinished.

While the snow that was falling had grown heavier, it wasn't blizzard-like; the wind was still mild, which allowed for the high-pitched scream to be heard loud and clear. Kaasa and Eshal, who were just looking around at the ruined buildings, stood straight up. Selik's shivering stopped. Sudir dropped the item that he had just found—a pipe that had a hand-carved skull as its base—then jerked his head up and then around. Blaiga moved closer to Phaggo as Baruk and Gaajah rose to their full heights. Gaajah was quick in saying the spell that sent the box and its attached snuff bottle to the chamber in his father's ship that he was given during the trip's duration; he wiped his hands on the back of his pants then turned to look at the others. Baruk stood perfectly still.

The scream that they heard had sounded like something someone would emit in horror—they knew that screams like the one that they had just heard were usually emitted after someone had either seen something horrifying or after some unsuspecting something leaped out or surprised someone who wasn't watching his or her surroundings. Baruk had just turned to look at Gaajah when another scream penetrated the quiet; the scream was followed by a half-coherent yell that made Baruk and everyone in his group freeze in place.

"Don't...cuh...is...I...out...Numbskull!" the yell, which seemed to come from somewhere close-by, said. Nothing else was said. No follow-up yells or screams followed. The area went back to its former, eerie quiet.


	26. Chapter 26

When air is displaced by some air-traveling vessel, like a plane or a jet, it normally rushes back to fill that opening with a bang and that was what happened when ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit's ship, the Urumbuis-12, exited the bruised, purple/red sky that was over and on the other side of the Rhine river. ShaamVile Surfeit's arrival had caused a lot of air displacement, which caused the roar that caused many to lose their ability to hear and that, in the hours to come, would cause many ear-related traumas; he didn't need to be told that there was something wrong with his ears. He screamed, like everyone else who was outside, when the roar happened. His small, elf-like ears were throbbing and he couldn't hear out of the right one; he could hear just a little out of his left ear and it was from that ear that he was able to take in what was going on around him.

His blown hand had made things difficult for him. He was afraid that he wasn't much help around his employer's ship, or to his fellow co-workers; he hadn't really been thinking when he attacked that Claydo in late-September. His attack on the Claydo wasn't a wise one and he was paying a good price for it. The Claydo that he attacked had said something on confiscating the material—the photographic and video evidence that he just got through acquiring, after he saw Young Master Bile in that dump on the twenty-fifth of September—at the same time that he was coming towards him; he reacted quickly and quite unwisely. He hadn't really put much thought into what he was doing at the time... or about its consequences, for that matter. The five-strand, red energy attack, that he used on the Claydo, had done some damage to his hand. All of the fingernails that were on his right hand had been burned right down to their quicks; while Eldass had pointed that out to him, after they returned to their employer's mansion, he hadn't really paid any mind to it. He just shrugged it off. He went off to get what he had just gotten developed then he gave his brother, who was pretty much a genius in video editing, a call.

After giving his brother the scoop on why he needed his help, he and the video camera that he used on that day went for a ride. He was a rather proud man with his old Chevrouette Capie; his old car had gotten him from the garage, that his employer had generously made available for his employees, to his brother's driveway in nothing flat. His old, light brown, four-door Chevrouette Capie was more than ten thousand years old yet it still purred like a kitten and the ride was still as smooth as it was on the day that he had gotten it.

"Homs, y'old dog." his brother, Rupali Akokificos Modulavich, said after he reached his place. His brother, who was fifty years older than he, and who had a headful of dark brown hair, and who was rather chubby in comparison to himself, was sitting on his and his wife's front porch. It had almost looked like he was waiting for him.

He and his brother had talked some, had played the catch-up game, then he gave the camera over. Rupali had looked the camera over before leading him into the house; he sat on the sofa that was in his brother's house for nearly thirty minutes after reaching the house's interior. Rupali had been a pro—all of the useless junk that was on the footage was removed and something was also done to make the footage more appealing to the viewer. After the footage was edited, he and his brother shared a drink and then some words. About fifteen minutes later, he went on his way. His employer saw all of what he was able to get for him two days later. While his employer was pretty raving mad by the time he got to looking over the evidence that he was able to get for him he was able to tell that he was happy with what he had given him.

His hand had started paining him on the morning of the twenty-sixth of September; after waking to find his injured hand all tangled up in the bedding of his and his wife's bed, he yelled. His wife, who was sleeping peacefully at his side at the time, had practically leaped from the bed in blind panic after he yelled. The ends of his fingers had gone from their normal, brown color to a nice, dark gray color during the night; there were a few burns on the first joints of them fingers but, for the most part, it had just been the ends of his fingers that gave him grief on that morning. His wife, Abara Modulavich, née Komav, had to pull three of the fingernails that were on his right hand that morning. The other two fingernails were pulled the following morning.

He couldn't use his right hand for shit right now; the fingernails were growing back, but at a painfully slow pace, and the burns were healing just as slowly. He took the bandage that was around that hand off on the second of October; he had a feeling that he would need to use that hand and, since he didn't want the bandage to get in the way, he took it off—this was a very wise thing to do, since he found himself joining in mini-battle with the same Claydo that he had a to-do with in late-September, after his employer, his employer's small platoon, he, and nearly half a dozen of his co-workers stormed the building that Master Vile was in at the time. He downed more than four pain pills the following day for that decision; the idea of taking a few stiff drinks down had crossed his mind once or twice on that day but, by the grace of the Gods, he was able to keep himself from the bottle... and from asking his employer to send him home on injured relieve.

"How many were out?" someone off to his left asked. While he couldn't be sure, he thought that it was a female who had spoken.

"Ten, I think." someone else, this one sounding male, said back.

He pushed himself to his knees slowly then shook his head; he snatched his hands to his head with a groan afterwards—a ring in his left ear was heard at the same time that his head started to ache. His vision, which had always been perfect, grew blurry before finally clearing up. He pressed the fingers of his left hand against his left temple gently then pulled one of his legs up. He pushed himself up quickly then stood perfectly still for a second or two before taking his first step forward. He found that his balance was horrible in that first step; he nearly fell back to the ground but, by quite a lot of luck and drive, he managed to remain on his feet. He stood still for nearly a minute before trying again. His legs felt very much like rubber. They were shaky and it almost felt like there were no muscle in them. He had to fight for each step that he took.

He convulsed almost uncontrollably after leaving his employer's ship with one of the many spare boxes that six or so Solarized Crystal lights were in; if not for manning up, he would of gone back into the ship for another coat. After a mild fight, he went on to do what he wanted to do, which, at the time, was to take the box over to where Yhozah Impan Zultoa was. Yhozah Zultoa, who he and his co-workers sometimes called Impan, was the one fixing or replacing the damaged or broken lights that the local deer and wild equines had their fun with the night before; he was all too willing to go out to give his co-worker one of the spare boxes. After receiving Yhozah's text message, he raced off to the storage space that was in his employer's ship. He beat all of his co-workers there so he won the chore by simple quickness.

The trek over to where Yhozah was was a long one; if it wasn't as cold as it was, and if the wind and the snow wasn't as bad as they were, he would of made the trip in nothing flat. The trek to where Yhozah was had taken all of five minutes. The wind-driven snow, and the depth of the snow, and the bitter cold had made his movements slow and stiff; while Yhozah was a sport when he reached him, he was plain annoyed over the fact that he was slowed up by the weather. Yhozah had said nothing adverse towards the weather when he reached him; his co-worker—who looked more than a little cold, and who's nose was a nice, beet-red color—had just thanked him for retrieving the box of lights for him then he set to work in replacing the first of the ten noted lights that the wild deer and ponies had either destroyed or damaged with their wildly bizarre, nighttime conducted, antics.

"Don't know who's worse with these things," Yhozah said about two minutes before the explosion-like roar happened. "The deer either leap into or rise up on their back legs to paw at them. The ponies do the same damn thing and, as always, once the lights are down, they lose all interest. They move off to either a different light or they just disappear into the night."

"I wouldn't say that the ponies do the same thing as the deer," he said back. "The studs seem to see the lights as a threat, we've lost—"

"A little over a dozen from the studs just rearing up to box at them," Yhozah replied quickly. "We'd be laughing ourselves silly over their antics if these things weren't so expensive."

"Over two grand a light," he said, distantly. Not only did the Solarized Crystal Lights light up an area brightly, they also had a hovering mechanism and a trespassing alarm built in them. His employer, after looking over the compiled evidences that he, Abevo Speelin, and Olok and Ulok Gzujus had gotten for him on his sons, and after calming down from the rage that he felt after discovering that his nephew had kept valuable and important information from him, had instructed that a hundred of the expensive lights be put in his ship's cargo space. Of them hundred lights, fifty-seven were lost. If the order for the pole lamps, that were brought along, wasn't given out soon, he was quite sure that one of his co-worker's would be getting the order to go retrieve some more of the lights.

He was just gearing up to voice that when the roar happened. Yhozah and he had screamed in pain. Yhozah dropped to his side then was pretty much covered over by the snow while he just collapsed to his stomach. He could see Yhozah off to his right; his co-worker was sitting up, and he looked quite lethargic. The female that he heard earlier was with him. She had a piece of gauze pressed against his left ear so, he guessed that his co-worker had sustained some sort of extreme, ear-related, trauma to that ear. Yhozah Zultoa, Eldass Zultoa's thirdborn son, who had green skin, blue eyes, and light blond hair, was talking but he wasn't moving any, which concerned him a little. He had just started in Yhozah's direction when he felt a hand wrap around one of his wrists. He was just turning in the direction of the one who had grabbed him when his legs gave out from under him.

"Whoa, Homsi." Ulok Gzujus, a blue-skinned Goblin, who had warts on his cheeks, large, brown eyes, and a straight nose, said after hooking his arms under Homsi's armpits. Ulok helped Homsi to his feet then led him to where Yhozah was.

"Where am I?" Homsi asked stupidly.

"About fifteen yards from Master Tazir's ship," Ulok replied. "You'll probably experience a black-out here and soon; you're lucky to not be bleeding out of your ears."

"I can't hear out of one as is," Homsi mumbled.

"I'm sure that can be fixed." Ulok said. When he reached the spot where Yhozah was, he stopped then gently pushed Homsi down to the ground, so he was sitting beside Yhozah. "Attaec, make sure that these two are placed in Master Tazir's ship soon. Ear troubles are enough for these two I think, don't need to add any frost-bite injuries to that."

Attaec Ionif, a near-purple skinned Goblin—or Goblinette, as one of her gender called themselves in her society—, who had pretty, yellow eyes, that had blue pupils in their centers, set in a rather peaceful looking face, looked at Homsi for only a second before looking at Ulok. She nodded her head then went to work in helping the two men in her care; there were two other maids tending to two others and there were two other butlers walking around, looking for the ones who had also been out when the roar happened. The ship that was behind her was just fifteen minutes arrived, but she felt that it had already over-stayed its welcome. No warning was given on his arrival. No memo was posted on the bulletin board that was in the room that her employer had set to the side for just her and her co-workers. No text message was sent to warn them that ShaamVile Surfeit was on his way either; they were caught completely off guard by the man's arrival. Her employer, who was nowhere in sight at the moment, would of let them know to be on the look-out for his grandfather's arrival. He wouldn't of just left them hanging. He would of made a point to let them know about the man's imminent arrival, just like when his father and then that repulsive, sick-acting, perverted Trobrencus radioed in to warn him of their imminent arrivals.

The large, pear-shaped ship, that was behind her, was a nice, shiny black color. It was parked right between the Altrhein and the Bärensee; while the ramp was down, there was no activity going on around it. Either the man who drove and then landed the ship hadn't given his staff the order to clear the area around his ship or he had decided to forgo giving the order of his campsite being cleared; DuruVile Surfeit, her employer's father, and the only son of the man who piloted the pear-shaped ship, was the ship's only entrant. He raced right over to where the ship was landed then, after the ramp was lowered, he went in. He hadn't been seen since, so she guessed that he and the ship's pilot were engaged in a rather deep conversation or, quite possibly, he was being forced to sit and wait until the man who had fathered him had completed the necessary protocols that happened after a ship was landed.

Attaec split her attention between Yhozah, who wasn't only very lethargic but was also suffering from a minor bleeding issue with his left ear, and Homsi, who she had yet to get around to looking after. Homsi, from what she could tell, was just plain confused; there were no fluids oozing out from his ears and he wasn't acting like he was in pain. Her co-worker, who was fifteen thousand years her senior, was looking around in a daze. It almost looked like he had forgotten where he was, which was sort of comical, since he had been residing in the location that they were all in for nearly a month. Attaec grabbed one of Yhozah's hands then pulled it up; she told him to keep his hand pressed against the piece of gauze that was against his ear then she slid over to where Homsi was. Homsi jerked up after she placed her hand on him then looked at her from over his shoulder.

"You okay?" Attaec asked after her co-worker calmed down.

"Abara?" Homsi's large, expressive, blue eyes blinked rapidly.

"No," Attaec said. "Attaec."

"Oh," Homsi said back. What Attaec said next he didn't catch. She was on his right side—his deaf side—now. He slowly turned his head in that direction. "What was that?"

"Was asking if you was okay." Attaec said, a little louder this time.

"Don't know." Homsi replied. He brought his hands up then rubbed the temples of his head slowly. "Can't hear out of my right ear, can hear only a little out of my left, and—"

"Your head hurts after you make any movements?" Attaec questioned. She hoped that that was what her co-worker was about to say. She wasn't one who liked to interrupt others.

"Mhmmm,"

"Let me get a gauze wrap around Yhozah's head," Attaec went to Yhozah's side. A roll of gauze was in her coat pocket; she was fast in using it after taking it out. "I'll get you two back to the ship as fast as I can; think you two need to arrange a date with our employer's medical chamber."

Like Attaec Ionif, he was annoyed over the fact that his grandfather hadn't radioed in or given him or anyone else in the area a head-ups to his imminent arrival; while he didn't know about the ten-guessed staff members, who were outside of his ship when his grandfather's ship finished its descent from the planet's final atmosphere and ozone layer, he did know that there were a lot of people out there that were hurting. He hoped that his four sons—and his wife, should she be somewhere out there—weren't among them injured folk. He'd be yelling himself hoarse if his boys—or his wife—were found to have any ear-related injuries on them and no, you-be-quiet's or do-you-know-who-your-yelling-at's would keep him from doing so. As he saw it, Hazaar had enough on his hands with whatever was troubling him with his leg, and Lhaklar had enough on his hands with the gash that was on the side of his head; neither of them needed any further injuries on them that would drag them down or make their current lifestyles become even more difficult.

He wished he knew where they were; if he knew where they—all of them—were, he'd waste no time in going to claim them. They'd be in his ship, either taking a warm or a hot shower or eating a meal that they had probably not had in a long time if he knew where they were. Shit, they'd probably all be sleeping a sleep that was worth ten times the ones that they had slept in the last ten months if he knew where they were.

He didn't know where they were, so he couldn't go to them. He couldn't bring them to his camp, they wouldn't be taking any warm or hot showers and they wouldn't be eating any meals fit for kings and they wouldn't be sleeping a sleep that prince's slept and their injuries wouldn't be looked into and then treated. He was annoyed over his grandfather's not calling in to warn them of his imminent arrival and he was frustrated over how little information he knew on where his sons were and on how they were doing.

Unlike Homsi, Yhozah, and the other Goblins who were outside when his grandfather's ship sounded off, he, his brother, his sister-in-law, his nephew, and his father were inside a sound-proof ship. He and his entourage went over to Trobrencus's ship, which was the closest ship to them at the time, when the weather started to get bad; they had just gotten inside when the pebble-sized hail started to grow in size. His entourage were joking around while he was just being quiet and to himself; he was thinking about a little something that his mother had said from time to time when things either started to get bad or when one's troubles started to bog them down. He had still been thinking this little saying when he and his group reached Trobrencus's ship.

"When you speak of your troubles, you're telling the stone that's on your chest, and the lump that's in your throat, to go away. You feel better and cleaner and you also feel like you can breathe easier after you've spoken of your troubles."

That was the saying. It was something that a parent usually said when they either noticed that one of their children was in a glum mood or when they saw that there was something troubling one of their children—it was the nice way of asking a child what was troubling them. Most of the time, his mother had said that to him after he and his father had one of their spats and, most of the time, he had told her what was ailing him. While he would never contradict something that his mother had said to him he did wish that he knew who it was that made that saying up; how he wished he could find that person and then play grapple-the-neck or slap-the-face with him or her. He didn't feel any better and he definitely didn't feel cleaner and, as for that easier breathing thing... well, he had never really had any problems in breathing during the last ten months. He was probably not going to be sleeping any easier when it came time for him to slide under the covers, that were on the bed, that was in the chamber, that was in his ship, that he was using; the rock that settled on his chest, and the lump that formed in his throat, after he found his wife and sons missing in January, were still there. While the discovery of where his sons were had made the task of consuming food and drink easier he still couldn't taste anything that he ate or drank and he believed that the reason for that was based solely on his wife's location still being unknown.

While he had no problem in breathing, he did feel that each breath that he took had a pain to it. His heart continued to ache and his breath continued to come out in a long and drawn-out way; it wasn't an easy task in making up the report that he gave to his father and brother earlier. His thoughts on where Bile and his two injured sons were, and on how they were faring, had distracted him quite a bit when he made that report and his thoughts on where his wife and their youngest son, Lazeer, were had mixed in quite well with them thoughts. By the time he went off to find Cheshire, to see if he could look into the memories that he had of what he saw at the fair, when he saw Bile and Lhaklar, he was a nervous wreck. Fraught with worry, and with questions that were just not being answered. Answering the questions that his father, brother, and sister-in-law had asked him had also been tough; he had come close to cracking several times, but he had managed to keep himself together.

It was a little tougher for him when he found himself answering some of the same questions that his father, brother, and sister-in-law had asked after he, they, and Triskull reached Trobrencus's ship. Olok Gzujus, the twin brother of Ulok Gzujus, who was currently helping one of his fallen comrades to his feet outside, had done exactly what he had told him to do after going over and then giving a copy of the report that he made sometime after he, Kuruk, Qeeta, Cheshire, and Eldass and Zshon returned to camp on the night of October the twenty-third to Trobrencus. While he was handing the original report to his father and brother, Olok was giving the copy to Trobrencus and, while he was answering the questions that he was asked, Olok had done his best to answer the questions that Trobrencus had asked him—which were the same ones that he was answering. Olok was about to leave Trobrencus's ship when the weather changed. He and his group had just reached the ship when the man realized that he couldn't leave it.

It wasn't all, totally, bad, though. Trobrencus's wife, Bahne, had wrestled them out of their coats then had led them to the room that was in her husband's ship that was set-up like a living room. She told them to sit down before going off to some other part of the ship for a few minutes; upon her return, she had a tray that five porcelain cups were sitting on. They were hustled into drinking every last sip of her Ginger Basil Tea—which had looked milky and which had tasted rather disgusting. Bahne and Trobrencus both agreed that employer's shouldn't pamper the ones in their service so, Olok, who was a member of his staff, was spared of having to swallow and then stomach Bahne's tea.

The "smoothing out" of what Olok had told Trobrencus had happened right after he and his group had gotten comfortable. The situation that was so unkindly thrown at him had become even more real to him during that process—and during the process of answering the questions that Olok hadn't been able to answer. He was angry, he was upset, he was confused, and he was worried all at the same time. Except for his father, who left the ship after using Trobrencus's CB radio to let his father know that he had clearance to land his ship, he and his family were all currently seated in the room of Trobrencus's ship that was set-up like a living room. Olok was told to stand in the hallway, just outside of the ship's living room—which was where he still was. Since Olok didn't work for Trobrencus, he wouldn't bow down or adhere to anything that Trobrencus said to him. Olok Gzujus had no loyalty towards Trobrencus; he was loyal to him and his wife only.

"Tazzy, hate to ask—I'm sure that home-life isn't well for you and your daughter at the moment—but, how're things at your place?" Bahne asked. Her voice was no higher than that of a whisper, which was normal for her, as she normally did speak in a whisper-like voice.

"You're right on the not-well part," TazirVile replied. "Other than my place feeling less full, everything is going well."

"Still have Zanra?" Bahne asked.

"Yes,"

"She doing well?"

"Yes,"

"That's good. Bet she's gotten big, Angel and the boys'll probably not recognize her when they see her again."

He would be the Universe's biggest liar if he went and said that he had recognized the dog after returning home after everything settled down on Ssaaloo, Irmondoxa, Puspadom, and Ashomono. He had forgotten all about the dog so, when he came home, then was jumped on by the dog, he had automatically thought that one of his staff had allowed for one of their dogs to roam his halls. After a few minutes, he remembered who she was—after pushing her away from him more than twice then yelling for one of his staff to come retrieve her, that was.

It was strange; before his wife and sons were found, and then returned to their rightful home, he hadn't had a dog wandering his mansion's halls. Trobrencus gave his wife one of his seven week old, home-bred puppies after she went to talk to him in late December of last year; he wasn't too fond over having that puppy in the house and he had actually hoped that Trobrencus would take the puppy back or that Bahne would put up a stink over her husband's gift to his family. That puppy, from what Eshal had told him, had gotten big over the months. She wasn't a puppy anymore. With her being nearly a year old now, she was taking on the appearance of an adult dog. While gangly and a bit on the immature side, she would soon mature into a fine dog, with good leg and muscle. The dog, much like his bats, fish, and Platypuses, and much like his wife's pet Sekhems, had become apart of his house and life now so she was there to stay. Eshal had mentioned several times in her text messages about how smart and well-trained Zanra was; he believed her. The dog was very obedient and not once had she messed in the house or destroyed anything that was in the house.

While he was accepting of the dog, he was adamant about their not getting another and he was for sure not going to allow a cat to enter his house or life. Cats, in his opinion, were worse than dogs. They scratched. They chewed. They shed their fur much worse than a dog did and they also had a good habit of not using their cat boxes when they had to use the bathroom... not to mention, the hacking up of the hairballs. Yuck!

"The weather is most depressing here. It is always like this or—"

"According to the general area report that came out of the computers that are in my ship, no." TazirVile quickly answered. "The weather is unpredictable here. It rains a lot, and the temperatures are mild during the warmer seasons."

"My brother really screwed the planet's weather systems up—he destroyed the ozone layers in getting here." KurukVile said quickly.

"Got here fast and angry," TazirVile admitted. "Don't know of anyone who wouldn't after being told that their missing family is on a planet that they've been said to not be on."

The room that he was sitting in had two, brown, microfiber couches in it. There was a chair attachment on the one that he and his brother were sitting on; the couch that he and his brother were sitting on went around one of the room's corners. The lamp that was behind the couch, that he and Kuruk were sitting on, had a red bulb in its crystal-like fixture; the lamp's base had a hook-like design to it. The other brown, microfiber couch was directly across from him; Irka and Triskull were seated on that one. Bahne Surfeit, who was born and raised under the surname of Brotzol, was sitting on the matching chair, which had an ottoman in front of it; the chair that Bahne was sitting on was right between the two couches. Irka was sitting on Triskull's left; the couch's multi-brown pillows were on their chocolate brown coffee table, that was between the two couches, had a tall vase on its surface. It had half-dead roses in it.

The crystal chandelier, that was hanging from the center of the ceiling, was a nice piece. He found himself as being quite favoring towards it. There were two, brown side tables in the two, unoccupied corners of the room. A brown phone sat on one of them; the other table had a rather old-looking phonograph on it. There were four photographs up on the room's walls; one of them depicted TrobrencusVile and his wife—Bahne was in her husband's arms; both she and her husband looked quite happy in the photograph. The photograph that was beside that one was of TrobrencusVile's three oldest children—DananVile, DazassVile, and TrivitVile. The photograph that was on the other side of the room had CelobraVile, her twin sister, BenociVile, their husbands, and children in it. The photograph that was beside that one had the whole family in it; everyone in it looked very happy.

The room's carpet was a light brown color. The room's walls and ceiling were a dark brown color. There was a multi-brown fur lined up at the foot of the couches and chair. He had a distinct feeling that Trobrencus hadn't had a hand in the room's decoration, while Trobrencus had an elegant style to him, the room just gave off the impression that a woman—Bahne, perhaps—had been at the helm in the decoration department.

"My nephew, Vile, knew all this time that they've been here," TazirVile said a few minutes after complete silence had settled in the room. "He's known and he's not said a thing about it. After I was shown concrete proof that my sons were here I got mad. Simple as that."

"Trob showed me the report that you made." Bahne said. "Think he and I would of done the same thing."

At the time that the compiled evidences of his sons were shown to him, he was in his office. He woke up on the day that Homsi, the Gzujus twins, and Abevo Speelin gave over what they were able to aquire with a sort of feeling—something had told him to not get but so involved in working that day, which was why he had only been half-working at the time of their, and Eldass's, entrance to his office. When the five Goblins came into his office, he dropped what he was doing. He asked them why they had just walked into his office without knocking first then he stood up. The five Goblins gave him what they managed to collect quickly; they hadn't even bothered in taking a seat when he started reviewing what they brought to him.

The Gzujus twins had shown him what they collected first then he looked at what Homsi and Eldass had managed to collect then Abevo gave him the folder that he had on him. His first reaction was shock; all four of his sons were seen, but in different locations and almost all of them were seen on the same day. His second reaction was anger; them five Goblins had backed off in a hurry when he started raging. Whatever papers he had on his desk at the time went flying, as had most of what occupied the top of his desk. He was mad enough to punch holes in the walls. A window had actually been broken and Teskon, his pet albino bat, who he had owned for a good, long time, was terror-squawking.

Homsi, Eldass, the Gzujus twins, and Abevo ran off after he gave them the order to get his ship ready a few minutes later—relief was written all over their faces when that order was given. He probably would of left the room relieved to, come to think of it. The anger that he expressed on that day was unacceptably large; it continued to be at that unacceptably high level all during the trip through space. All of that anger was released after he landed his ship then went to Washington D.C.; his nephew had gotten a rare viewing on how angry, forceful, serious, and authoritative he could get.

The first thing that ran through his brain after he saw Bahne Surfeit, née Brotzol, for the first time was that Trobrencus had made off with one hell of a fine catch. Bahne was a very beautiful woman; she had creamy-colored hair that flowed down to the middle of her back, darkly tanned skin, and a heart-shaped face that had two, very bright, solid blue eyes in it. Bahne's heart-shaped face also sported a small, yet trim, nose, a pair of large, full lips, and a trim chin in it. Bahne had an hourglass-shaped figure—her breasts were large, but they didn't throw her appearance off any; her hips were round, but petite in appearance. Bahne's manicured fingernails were a painted purple and black color; she had a little, purple eye-shadow on her eyelids. Her lips had light purple lipstick on them.

He was doing his best to not stare at the woman—she had a near see-through, purple-colored tunic-poncho blouse on over a pair of dark blue pants. There was a pair of purple and sequin, flat-shoes on her feet. The purple, five row, crystal and zircon necklace, that hung from around her neck, was a nice piece of jewelry. The ring that was on her ring finger was, without a doubt, her wedding ring—it had an 18kt, yellow-gold band; the large, rose-shaped, purple diamond, that was in the band's center, was quite shiny. The only woman that could rival Bahne in beauty, he truly thought and believed, was his own lovely wife.

"The pictures that're in that folder, Trob and I were wondering—" Bahne started to say. When her husband entered the room, she stopped talking.

"My dear, I do believe that the young ones demolished all of them chocolate-dipped coconut macaroons that you made during our trip here." TrobrencusVile said. His voice was low and weasel-like; there was a growl-tone in his voice that made anyone that wasn't family cringe.

"Was expecting for that to happen. No one can resist them." Bahne replied. "I'll make some more later on."

"What was it that you was saying before I walked in and disturbed everyone?" TrobrencusVile asked.

"About the pictures that were in that report that Tazzy's employee brought over," Bahne said. She looked over at TazirVile slowly. Someone of no relation would of jumped at the woman's beauty; TazirVile sat unflinching on the couch. "Trob and I were wondering about the health of your sons."

TrobrencusVile sat on the chair attachment to the couch that TazirVile and his brother were sitting on; KurukVile merely glanced at the man while TazirVile simply looked at the man from the corner of his eye distrustfully. Up to twenty-one hundred years ago, he didn't know a thing on the man or know of his existence; the man was introduced, then became apart of the family, after his grandfather was brought back from Limbo. It took a long time before trust was struck between he and the man—he seemed to be very wary of people and he also had a way of looking down on a being for any odd thing that was under what he called "His Norm". His distrust in the man started after he assaulted his wife with his car—apparently, after coming upon his wife sitting before his residence's front gate, he was angry and decided to take it all out on her. He followed his wife, who was trying to back out and then away from his property, with his car a ways before striking her car with his own. From what his lovely wife had told him, some hours after the event happened, the man had also ripped her from her broken vehicle afterwards. He was probably never going to trust the man again.

TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit looked nothing like a typical Surfeit. Most of his physicial appearance was inherited from his mother, Birava Yamubabba, who was a pureblood Zomo. His bi-color head and body was the only thing that said that he was of "Surfeit" blood—his left side was light blue while his right was a puss-like creamy color. He lacked the elongated ears that most in the Surfeit family had—like his own, the man's ears were located within his head. His eyes had red irises in them; the sclera and pupils, that were in them, were white. There were red, blood trail-like markings under the man's eyes. The man had several, droop-like, red flaky patches of flesh on his cheeks and forehead. The man's lower lip drooped and had a shredded appearance—how he and his wife kissed with that lip being the way it was was beyond him. The nose that was in the center of the man's face was trim and pointy; it had triangular-shaped nostrils in it. The fingernails that sprouted out from the ends of each of the man's fingers were a dark, cream-color. Not only were they medium-length but they were filed enough so that their ends were finely sharp.

TrobrencusVile, who was called either Trobrencus or Trob by his family, and by the people that either knew or were close to him, had scruffy-like, dark purple hair that was very well kept. His hair was cut all nice and trim on the front and sides; there was a long, braided strand in the back that fell past his collar bone. The braided strand of hair had a dark purple bow on its end.

Trobrencus was wearing a burgundy, Satin trimmed, velvet tuxedo and shoes; there was a burgundy, black-buttoned, vest underneath the tuxedo jacket. A gold chain ran out from the left side breast pocket of the vest; it ran over to the pocket that was on the other side of the vest. Trobrencus had a white, button down, long sleeved shirt on underneath the vest; a striped, burgundy cravat tie, that had a gold button in its center, was around his neck. Trobrencus had come into the room using a brown stick that had a downturned, sterling silver, cobra handle; the mouth of the sterling silver cobra handle was open, so it looked like it was about to bite the one who grabbed it. The eyes of the cobra were ruby; the fangs were gold. Trobrencus had no problems with his legs, or with any other part of his body. He was very physically sound—the cane was just used to make his appearance seem more important. Trobrencus stood a good, six foot, four inches; he was a big man, who had a nicely built body full of ample muscle.

"There's something wrong with Hazaar's left leg," TazirVile said. "I'm not sure what happened but he's walking around with a very pronounced limp, and he seems to of lost weight."

"How much weight?" TrobrencusVile asked.

"Ten, maybe fifteen pounds." TazirVile replied. "He's still a feisty thing, regardless his leg pains and weight loss." he ran his tongue over his lips once before going on. "Lhaklar looks to of also lost weight—between five and ten pounds. He has a ga—"

"I noticed the gash in the photos, it doesn't look good." TrobrencusVile said. "Bile, I noticed, looked good. Looks like nothing's changed with him, why's that?"

"I haven't a clue."

"We didn't see anything on your wife, or Lazeer, in your report... or in the photographs that were included in your report. How come?" Bahne said as she casually crossed her left leg over her right.

"We didn't see them," TazirVile replied. "Angel's been missing for quite some time now. She was last seen five months ago. In May."

"Maybe the younger boy is with her." TrobrencusVile suggested.

"He's been seen—last seen in September; Hazaar was with him—he was complaining about his leg hurting him then." TazirVile said. Before TrobrencusVile could say anything else he leaned forward. "Lhaklar was seen on the twenty-sixth of September, in a city that's near here called Bühl. Bile was seen the day before, in a town that is also near our location called Au am Rhein. Hazaar and Lazeer were seen on the same day that Bile was, but they were pretty far from here. They were in a place called Yunnan—that's in south China. Angel was last seen on the day that my nephew invaded the Americas. She was seen fighting his troops; she disappeared soon after that sighting occurred. As far as I know, she hasn't been seen or heard of since."

"You checked them locations?" TrobrencusVile asked.

"Yes—on the sixth of October, I had ten of my staff go into the shield that's around the city of Rastatt. They went in so I could investigate the areas where my sons were seen at. Two of my employees went with me; we found not a trace of my sons, but we did find evidence that proved that they were in them locations." TazirVile said. He sat back on the couch. "Three of my sons were seen on the twenty-third of October. My brother, my sister, my stepfather, and I saw them in a city called Munich—that's some miles from here."

"Along with a fellow that resembles my son," KurukVile spoke up. He gestured towards Triskull, who merely rolled his eyes at the mention of the fellow that his father continued to say was his son. "I was in the area at the time to hear Bile call him Numbskull which—"

"Sounds very similar to your son's name. I didn't see any photographs of him in the folder." TrobrencusVile said.

"He's really the only one who saw him." TazirVile said. "He was unavailable to be reached at the time that I was compiling that report, which is why there weren't any photographs of "Numbskull" included in what you was given."

"Have any photographs on you of this "Numbskull"?" TrobrencusVile asked. TazirVile stood up. He reached his hand into his slate gray tuxedo jacket then withdrew a small, brown leather case that was in his inside jacket pocket. He leaned forward after removing the case from his jacket then gave it to Trobrencus. He sat back on the couch afterwards. TrobrencusVile opened the case then looked at the its contents quickly before looking up.

"Ever seen him before?" TrobrencusVile's eyes were twinkling; he was now in a seated forward position on the couch's chair attachment. He gave the small, brown leather case to KurukVile, who looked through the contents quickly before passing it to his son. Triskull glanced at the photographs that were in the case uninterestingly then leaned forward to return it to its owner.

"No," TazirVile replied after taking the case back.

"He does resemble your son," TrobrencusVile said to KurukVile. "I do see a resemblance."

The conversation that they were having was put on-hold for a bit after a child walked into the room. The child looked quite a lot like Trobrencus; while she didn't have a bi-colored face or body, she did have long, dark purple hair. The complexion of her skin was quite pale; the sclera, that was in her eyes, was a light red color, while the irises and pupils were a cream-like color. She had three, loose patches of flesh hanging down on her face and she also had red, flaky patches on her chin. Like Trobrencus, she had dark red, blood trail-like markings under her eyes. She was wearing a stylish, Islamic-style dress that was a light brown color; there was gold embroidery on the dress's skirt and on the hems of the arms. She had light brown shoes on her feet. TazirVile knew who the child was; she was the youngest child and daughter of Trobrencus and Bahne. Her name was Varaxcan and she was four hundred and sixty-four years old.

"Vara," TrobrencusVile said. He scooped his daughter up after she reached him.

"Don't think I need to ask who it was that was the Macaroon Champ," Bahne giggled. Varaxcan had chocolate on her hands; she wore chocolate on her cheeks and chin too. TrobrencusVile pulled a black silk kerchief out from his tuxedo jacket; despite Varaxcan's struggles to get free from him, and despite her attempts to push the kerchief away, he got most of the chocolate off of her.

"Kids at this age, they're a-okay with getting dirty or sticky but they sure put up a fuss when it comes time to get cleaned up." TrobrencusVile said. He released Varaxcan, who practically ran over to her mother.

He was thinking about how fussy Bile and Lhaklar were when they were Varaxcan's age when it came to getting cleaned up when Olok rushed in; while Bile was a good listener at Varaxcan's age he had also been right mischievous and, yes, he was rather fussy when it came time to getting clean. He had found himself as chasing Bile down his mansion's second floor hallway once; Bile, who was no more than three hundred and four years old at the time, had come in all muddy. He had needed a bath and he was the "appointed" one to give him one... or try to, that was. Bile had refused to stay still while in the tub and, when he turned his back to grab the towel that was on the toilet, his adopted son, who he hadn't even adopted yet, had taken advantage.

Bile leaped out of the tub then ran right past him into the hallway. Angel had laughed, some of his staff had laughed, and he had laughed but, as he laughed, he also learned that when one bathes his or her children it was best to either keep a hand on the child that's in the tub, so that the child wouldn't get it into his or her head to jump out, or grab the towel fast before the child could think up an escape plan. While Lhaklar was slower than Bile, he did the exact same thing at that age.

When Olok Gzujus, a blue-skinned Goblin, who had warts on his cheeks, large, brown eyes, and a crooked nose, walked into the room, Varaxcan went from being an innocent, sweet child into being a complete terror. Varaxcan must of learned from her parents the ways on how to treat staff—she charged right at Olok, then kicked him twice, before rubbing the palm of her right hand on his white striped tuxedo jacket. Trobrencus had either not cleaned that hand or Varaxcan had slipped it under her father's cleaning radar; the front of Olok's tuxedo jacket had a child-sized, chocolate-colored hand-print on it now. Olok looked down at the chocolate hand-print before walking over to him. Varaxcan walked over to her father, who was smiling.

"Olok," TazirVile said after his butler reached him. Olok looked none to happy with what had just happened to him; restrained anger, and frustration, was very evident on the Goblin's face. "what is it?"

"Bad empoy-wee! Bad! Bad!" Varaxcan exclaimed. She pointed at Olok then started jumping up and down. "Bad! Bad! Empoy-wee bad!"

"Sir, I've just been told that the weather's gotten better outside." Olok relayed. "Several others in your service were outside when your grandfather arrived."

"How many?" TazirVile asked. While he tried to keep the alarm out of his voice, he was clearly concerned over being told that some of his staff were outside of his ship. "How many and were they outside when my grandfather finished his descent?"

"My brother claims that eleven were outside when your grandfather finished his descent." Olok replied quickly.

"Have my daughter, younger siblings, and my niece and nephews returned to camp yet?" TazirVile asked as he stood up. His concern levels went up a few numbers after realizing that his daughter and younger, half-siblings, and his young nephews and niece were given permission to leave camp some thirty or so minutes earlier.

"No sir, we haven't—"

Even though the only thing that captured ShaamVile Surfeit's arrival was the watertower, that was on the outskirts of Steinmauern, it would be some hours before the footage was looked at and then passed along to the people that ran the country's security. The cameras that were on the roof of the watchtower were pointing in the right direction when ShaamVile's ship came into view but, while footage of ShaamVile Surfeit's arrival was captured, there was no footage of where his ship went. All of the cameras that were on the watertower malfunctioned right when Mr. ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit's ship exited the bruised, purple/red sky that was over and on the other side of the Rhine river.

Bile, his two brothers, Angus, Aubin, Abelle, and Franziska hadn't been allowed the privilege of seeing ShaamVile Surfeit's ship; they were too preoccupied with their ear-pains to worry about what came out from the sky.

The first thing that was on their minds, after their ear-pains started to subside, was to find where everyone was and then to regroup and then assess their injuries. Angus and Aubin were in a sort of underground snow shelter, which Aubin threw together after Bile ran off to collect Guyuns. After Aubin got the snow shelter fixed up, he grabbed Angus by his ankle then yanked him down. His wrecked, jean jacket was thrown over them afterwards. The shelter that Aubin built gave him and Angus some protection from the snow, the hail, and the howling winds; Aubin had worked hard to get the four sides up and he had also worked hard in making sure that them four sides were firmly packed with snow. The two of them had made it out much better than the others, so they had less injuries on them. Aubin's right earlobe was bleeding—a chunk of hail struck it when he was making the snow shelter. Angus had a bleeding cut to his forehead and cheek. The rest of the group hadn't made-out as lucky as them.

Angus and Aubin were floored when they saw the state of their friends; instead of seeing their friends return to the area, where they had formerly been, before the hail started to fall, uninjured, all of their friends came back with some sort of injury to their bodies. Abelle's mouth was a bloody mess—the claim of her biting her tongue, and then her lower lip, after the roar happened, was made. Abelle also had two knots on her forehead and a bleeding cut to her right cheek. There was a spreading, purple bruise on Franziska's left wrist; two deep cuts were on her forehead too. Guyunis claimed that the still-bleeding puncture marks, that were on his right arm, had come from Bile; his chest and shoulders were bleeding and bruised in more than a dozen places and the back of his head was cut and bleeding—these injuries, he claimed, had come from the hail.

Those injuries were the medium-end of the injury assessments. While Angus and Aubin were shocked over seeing them injuries, they came very close to fainting after seeing Bile and Lazeer's injuries.

"Okay, four of our seven are present and accounted for," Aubin said after Guyunis and Franziska stepped into view; Guyunis and Franziska had actually been the first ones to show up to the re-grouping. Abelle had shown up right after so that had made five of their seven accounted for. "Where's Bile and Lazeer?"

"Bile's, uh, coming." Franziska said, rather nervously. "He's coming, but very slowly. Give him a minute."

Bile had practically been duck-walking; while Aubin was able to note the strange way his friend was walking, he had very nearly missed the fact that his friend was also walking with a very noticeable limp. Angus had let out one hell of a scream—the first scream that Baruk and his group heard—after Bile walked up. Bile's left knee and shin were very badly swollen; the left leg of his brown pants was an odd, reddish-green color from the knee on down and the fabric of that same pant-leg was stretched rather tightly around that knee. Bile's elongated ears were cut in many places and there was a rather long bruise on the right side of his neck—which was causing him considerable pain; he couldn't turn his head in that direction without grimacing. While Bile's knee had looked bad enough to scream over, Angus hadn't screamed because of it. He screamed after seeing the sight of blood on the crotch part of his friend's pants.

The crotch of his Bile's pants, Angus had noticed, was dark; the three handfuls of snow, that Guyunis managed to shove down his brother's pants, had melted. Right in the center of that normal wetness was a fist-sized, reddish-green spot. The fist-sized hailstone that struck Bile in the groin had struck him so hard that it made him bleed down there. Bile could barely stand; he was seated on the snow nearby. The lit joint, that was between his lips, was trembling ever so slightly.

The second scream that Baruk and his group heard hadn't come from Angus, nor had it come from any of the other human teenagers that were in the Steinmauern Kiesgrube mining area. Angus came very close to screaming after seeing Lazeer but, at the very last second, that scream evaporated. The left side of Lazeer's face was very badly swollen and it was also caked in dried and drying blood. The diagonal gash that went across Lazeer's left eye was re-opened by a hailstone; Lazeer's eye was swollen shut. Bile, after seeing the state of his younger brother's face, had reached into the front left pocket of his pants. His pocketknife was removed from his pants pocket and then thrown to Guyunis, who caught it clumsily.

"Over and then under, G. Got me? Do not cut the eye; cut the flesh over and then under the eye only." Bile said afterwards. Guyunis shook his head before tossing the knife back. Bile grew angry afterwards. "Guyunis, you're the older brother here! Grow some balls, help the younger brother ou—"

"Y-y-you're the-the older bruder not me." Guyunis stammered. "You do i-k-t."

"I can barely stand, I'm not available. You _can_ stand and you _are_ available." Bile said back. "Do it."

Lazeer screamed right when he saw Guyunis coming towards him with the knife. He screamed then he turned in an attempt to get away. Guyunis had closed the distance very quickly; he grabbed Lazeer in a tight hug then produced the knife. Aubin and Angus had to hold Lazeer's arms for Guyunis to do as he was told to do; it took three tries before the deed was done. The first time, Guyunis had looked about ready to cut into Lazeer's eye; Bile yelled for him not to. The second time, Guyunis chickened out. The third time was successful. The six-inch long blade, that was in the knife's Dragon-Motorcycle handle, had cut into the bruised flesh that was above and then below Lazeer's injured eye like butter; with the deed done, and with finding no other use for the knife, Guyunis threw it back to its owner. The other knives that were in the Dragon-Motorcycle handled knife—the four-inch and the two-inch—hadn't been used.

Lazeer's eye was open, he could see through it, but he was quite traumatized. He didn't want anyone near him right now. He was currently seated a ways from his brothers and the human teenagers that he and his brothers joined earlier that morning. The HB Classic Blend cigarette, that was in his mouth, was lit; Guyunis gave him the cigarette after he cut his face with the knife to relieve the pressure of the swelling. Guyunis had lit it for him before walking off.

"Should we chance it? Collect everyone then go home?" Abelle asked Aubin.

"No, not with Bile being in his current state and not with Lazeer... you know, acting the way he is." Aubin replied. "It'd just be wrong to leave them here and we'd not get far if we left for home anyways. Best we just sit tight and wait until we're all physically able to go."

"There's still plenty of them snacks in our bags, think they'd like one or two of them?" Abelle asked.

"Everything that's in them bags is probably like a frozen Popsicle by now but, yeah, try it." Aubin replied. "Might help them—don't think giving them something to eat would hurt them any."

Most of what was in the green duffel bag was cold, but nothing was frozen so, Abelle quickly rummaged through it for something that she thought Bile and Lazeer would like. She got a bag of Sandies Pecan Swirls out from the bag first then she pulled a Chocolate Chunk—a cookie that was right big in size—, then, after a moment's pause, she took two Milky Way's and then a Twix bar out of it. She walked over to Bile quickly after taking them snacks from the bag. She showed him the snacks that she had when he looked at her then asked if he wanted one. He politely took the bag of Pecan Swirls from one of her hand then said thank you afterwards. Abelle went over to Lazeer next; at first, Lazeer didn't want anything. He just wanted to be left alone. She was just turning to walk away when he sighed. He asked if the Chocolate Chunk cookie was available; she said that it was before handing it over. She dropped one of the two Milky Way candy bars at his feet after giving him the cookie then went over to where Guyunis was; while his injuries weren't as bad as his brothers', she knew that he wasn't feeling well or like himself—he was still in shock over having been asked, and then told, to cut his brother's face. Guyunis took the Twix candy bar from her quietly then walked off; she stood where she was for a short while then went back to where her brother was. Aubin, she noticed, after returning to his side, had obviously taken advantage of the food duffel bag being open—an open bag of potato chips was in his hand.

"While you were out, giving them snacks, Franziska hid just about everything that's got nuts in it or that has N-U-T-S written on the package." Aubin said. "If you want anything that has nuts in it, ask her. She'll know where it is."

"Probably a good idea—the snow that's under Bile is a reddish-green color." Abelle said. She shivered; she had tried to not look down after giving Bile the bag of Pecan Swirl cookies but, in the end, her curiosity had forced her to. The snow that was in front of Bile, right where his crotch was, had turned a light, reddish-green color.

"All the way around Bile?" Aubin asked in alarm.

"No, just where his crotch is." Abelle said quickly. She then added, "And where his left knee is."

"We need to get Bile to a doctor or something." Aubin said, after being silent for a few minutes. "Either get him to a doctor or call his mum or something."

"And how do you expect to get him to a doctor, Aubin?" Franziska asked. She had an unwrapped Payday candy bar in her hand. "He can barely walk."

"Angus and I can support him. Help him along or something." Aubin suggested.

"He weighs twice, maybe three times more than we do." Angus said. He balled the Barbecue chips bag, that he had in his hand, up then tossed it over his shoulder. "The snow's also pretty deep. We'd never be able to get him out of here by carrying him."

"Okay then. Why don't one of us go back then? Get some help and then—"

"Sure, and by the time the one who goes out to get some help comes back, we'd of all been captured or consumed by them aliens that are in that camp that's a few miles from here." Abelle sassed.

"Anyone have a cell?" Aubin asked. "Angus, you know their mum's number, right?"

"No on knowing her cell number. I know their home number though." Angus replied.

"Anyone have a cell?" Aubin repeated, then added, "Abelle and I left ours at our place."

"No, can't afford one." Angus said.

"Battery died on mine last night. I keep forgetting to charge it." Franziska said.

While they were worried about Lazeer and Guyunis, their main worry centered mostly around Bile. Their main worries were centered around Bile either bleeding or freezing to death and on his not being able to get up when it came time for them to go home; with no option of carrying Bile out of the area, or back to civilization, and with no one willing to run the risk of leaving to go get help, and with no one having a workable cellular phone, they decided to just sit tight a while longer before seeing if Bile's pains would subside long enough so he could stand and walk somewhat comfortably back. Franziska and Abelle went to the duffel bags; they grabbed the bags then collected the snowboards—the latter, of which, had very nearly been buried in the snow. They brought those items back to where Aubin and Angus were then sat down. Bile did nothing for a while. He just sat in place, smoking his joint. When he did move, it was only to scoop the snow that was around him over his lap. He went back to being still after his lap had a good pile of snow on it.

Lazeer, they saw, had stood up. He was walking towards Guyunis, who was standing nearly out of sight, under some trees. They watched as Lazeer went to his adoptive brother then they turned their attention back towards Bile. In the time that they were watching Lazeer, Bile had decided to lie down; it looked like his hands were laced behind his head. His joint looked to be finished.

Franziska decided to get up at the twenty or so minute mark of their waiting to see if any changes would happen with Bile. The weather had since gone back to being what it was before the hail started falling; the visibility was relatively good, so she could see where she was going. Bile seemed to of disappeared; the spot where he was was empty, which she thought was strange. She hadn't seen him get up or move off. She knew that he was around somewhere. She had a Mars candy bar on her—it was hid on her person after she found it among all the other candy bars that she and her friends had scarfed from the dumpster that was behind the Au am Rhein Hauptscule building; while the idea of eating the candy bar had crossed her mind once or twice, something had kept her from doing so. While she didn't know the reason behind her not wanting to eat the candy bar—she had always been a fan of Mars candy bars—she had a feeling that, if Bile was still in the area, he might want it.

The new snow that settled over the old snow was rather fluffy and light; it puffed up as she walked over to where she had last seen Bile. The wind carried some of the disturbed snow away, while the rest just settled back on the rest of the snow that was on the ground. She stopped after reaching the area where Bile was last seen at. She didn't dare take a step further—she didn't want to run the risk of stepping on or kicking him.

"Bile?" she said, almost in a low whisper. "Bile? You ah—"

When Bile sat up, the snow acted much like a blanket did after one sat up in bed—all of what covered his body fell to his lap. Bile's action of pulling his right leg up was done normally; his action of pulling his left leg up, so it'd be even with his other leg, was done very slowly. There was no change in the injury that was on Bile's leg; his left knee and shin were still badly swollen, but it looked like it had stopped bleeding. Franziska didn't know how long she stood there, staring at Bile's injured knee; it seemed that she was put under some sort of spell that was forcing her to remain standing in one place while staring at one thing in particular. Even when her hair blew in her face, she didn't move or look away. It was only when she felt a tug on her arm that the spell was broken.

"Earth to Franziska. Hello, hello-lo-lo-lo-lo." Bile said. Franziska looked down; she saw that Bile's hand was wrapped around the half of the Mars candy bar that was sticking out of her hand. Franziska allowed the candy bar to slip through her hand. Bile looked at the candy bar then at her. "This for me or—"

"It is, yes." Franziska answered.

"Thank you; while I'm not hungry right now, I'll keep it for when I am." Bile said.

"How's your knee?" Franziska asked. The question just popped out. She hadn't had a chance to check or to even prevent it from being asked. "I-I mean, I see that you can bend it now. Does it feel better or—"

"It's stiff, and it still hurts like hell, but it's best that I move it some. I'm preventing it from becoming so stiff that I can't use it by moving it... it also helps the blood that's in it to "flow" better." Bile replied quickly.

"Think you could stand, or walk, on it?" Franziska asked.

"Might be able to," Bile replied. He cleared his throat then looked down. What he said next came out shaky. "It's my balls that'll probably keep me down, sadly. They hurt more than my knee."

"The snow's deep," Franziska said absently. Even though she was a girl, she knew well how one of the male gender felt about his balls. A male being's testicles were fragile things and they could keep a male down if they were hit in a bad way. "Do you think that you'd be able to make it back to the shield that's around Steinmauern if Angus and Aubin helped in supporting some of your weight?"

She wasn't the greatest of students when she was going to Au am Rhein's Hauptschule, or High School; besides skipping classes with Abelle and Abelle's friends, she was also notoriously famous for not attending her physical education classes. She was a rather bright pupil in all of her other classes but, when it came to her physical education classes, that brightness had just not turned itself on so, she had just not shown up to them. Her parents hadn't been happy with her on her grades for them two classes, or on her not going to them classes, but they were perfectly happy with her other classes. The grades for her other classes were good—she had either gotten low A's or high B's in them classes. She was just one year past graduating; she graduated from Au am Rhein's Hauptschule, or High School, one year after Aubin graduated. Her Phys. Ed and Health classes hadn't held her back.

Bile never answered her question. He just sat where she found him quietly for a while, doing what she thought was a strange ritual. He'd stretch his left leg out slowly, keep it stretched for a nearly two minutes, bend it slowly before repeating the slow stretch all over again. He grimaced with each stretch. He hissed every time he brought his leg up then he'd grimace again when he went to stretch his leg out again. He continued to do his strange stretching for all of ten minutes before looking up at her. His glowing, yellow-green eyes locked on her green ones; a secret message was passed between the two of them. Bile's message was pretty clear—he didn't want her to bother or even help him as he got up. Her message was just as clear; while she was annoyed over being told to not intervene, she was compliant with his wish in not wanting to be bothered or helped to his feet.

Bile took in a deep breath before pitching himself forward; he groaned as he sat up, on his legs, then he groaned again when he forced his body up. He swayed ever so slightly after standing; his legs were splayed out but he was standing. He stood where he was for a few seconds then took two, small steps towards Franziska, who backed away. The crotch of Bile's pants still looked damp, but it looked like the reddish-green spot that was in the middle of that dampness hadn't grown. Franziska took two more steps back then turned and started making her way back to her friends. Bile followed behind her slowly.

"Did the snow numb y'up enough to get up and walk or are you just trying to impress us?" Aubin asked after Franziska and Bile reached him, Angus, and Abelle. He was trying his best to hide the smile that wanted to spread across his face.

"Trying to impress ya," Bile replied. He tipped a wink in Aubin's direction then looked around. "Where's Guyunis and Lazeer?"

"Over there," Abelle said. She pointed at a cluster of trees that were about forty-five feet away. The only thing that they could see were a pair of glowing yellow, scalene triangular-shaped eyes. They didn't seen Lazeer at all. "Lazeer went over there thirty minutes ago; we didn't see him leave so, he must still be with Guyunis."

"Your bruder really blends in well with the shadows, Bile." Angus said.

And that was one of the reasons for why Baruk and his group missed seeing Guyunis. The shadows that were under the cluster of trees, where Guyunis and Lazeer were standing, were so dark that Guyunis had pretty much become cloaked. It was only his eyes that could be seen, but Baruk and his group hadn't seen them either. It was Bile's current state that they were focused on; Bile's bloody pant leg, and the damp and bloody crotch of Bile's pants, had their full attention. Except for one, they went numb after seeing the state of Bile's pants. Eshal, in complete and utter shock over what she saw, had pulled back almost at once after seeing the oldest of her brothers. A scream shadowed her lips; her face was bright with fear; and her eyes were very nearly shut. She was gasping and gurgling at the same time. She was trying to get herself under control and she was trying to keep her breakfast down at the same time.

 _"Bile looked healthy. Perfectly healthy. I saw no sign of weight loss or injury on him."_ her grandfather, Cheshire, said to her father eight and a half days ago. While she wasn't really hiding from the two of them, she had listened in on their conversation—she was right around the corner from them when they were talking about her brothers.

"He looks like crap now, what in the Universe happened to him?" Eshal's frantic mind asked away.

Baruk, after the two screams were heard, had made the decision to take a little stroll in the direction that he thought they had originated in. His sister had tried to stop him; he continued on, regardless of her attempts to stop him. Gaajah had joined him right after he started off, so had Sudir and Selik. Phaggo, Blaiga, and she stayed behind for a short while then they followed; a rather upset Kassa had taken up the rear. They walked past most of the abandoned town's buildings without stopping; the food marts and eateries, the clothing stores and the laundromats had all still been standing, but only barely. The laundromat building was missing all of its washers and driers; there were big, gaping holes where them appliances had once been. The floor of the laundromat building was very nearly swallowed up by a flood of mud that turned to ice in the five days that it was winter-like.

Selik peered into the food mart once, when they walked by it, then he commented on how the place looked like a wrecked ship on the inside. The church, that was in the center of the abandoned town, had put a five minute pause to their stroll.

The spire, that sat atop the church's roof, had smashed to the street some time ago; the ground, for nearly fifty yards, was littered with the spire's remaines. The windows were all broken; some of them were boarded up, but there were plenty that weren't boarded up. The church's steps were crumbling; the material, that was put on the outside of the church, was either warping or dangling in place. The insulation, that was in-between the building's interior and exterior materials, was blowing to and fro in the wind; it was an ugly, dark yellow and green color—to her, it resembled moss and vines. The air that was around the center of the abandoned town had stank of sadness, despair, and there had also been the smells of rotted or rotting things mixing in. They moved on quickly after that five minute period of shock ended. The exit of the town was a quick one; Baruk had practically been running by the time they exited the town.

It took them all of twenty minutes before coming upon Bile. Since there was no path to walk down, they just followed Baruk as he wound through thickets of thorny bushes and overgrown trees. They went through the thorny bush thickets and the overgrown trees slowly, while Baruk just cruised right through them—his hands and face were cut and his stockings were a shredded mess, thanks to that. When they reached a clearing, that was on the other side of the thorny bush thicket and the overgrown trees, Kaasa started fighting with her brother. They fought verbally, and then physically, for all of five minutes before Baruk walked off.

The Rhine river was very close now; the river, which was completely frozen over earlier, was now a churning, angry mess. The waters, that were released after the roar sounded, were now crashing against the still-frozen parts of the river. Kaasa was rounding everyone up to head back to camp when Baruk made a sound. He cleared his throat then gestured for them to come over and fast; at first, they refused, then, after he jabbed a fire-engulfed finger at them, they did as he wanted. They were all cold and hungry then; she bet that the cold and hunger had been forgotten now. They were looking out from a show-covered hill, where a bunch of half-skeletal, blueberry bushes were growing on, when Bile sat up in the snow.

"If I ever start a fight with you on where you're going, or on where you're taking us, slap me." Kaasa said to Baruk shortly after Bile sat up in the snow.

"There's four others with him," Phaggo pointed out. "Two males and—"

"Two girls, daddy says that he thinks all of my brothers took on a bachelor's lifestyle." she returned, then she said, in a rather numb sort of way, "My mam hasn't been seen in a long time; my dad says that he thinks my brothers took on a bachelor's life after something happened to our mam."

"Maybe Bile hooked up with someone or something?" Blaiga said after they went silent for a rather long two minutes. "Been hanging out with four others that are also baching it out on their own or something?"

Like Gaajah's claim of eavesdropping on his father, when his father was talking on the phone to his father a few days ago, she had also eavesdropped on her father when he was talking to her grandmother about what he thought was going on with her brothers. Her father was trying to keep his suspicions away from her, but she knew them and she was worried that he might be right and wasn't what she was seeing proof of her father's suspicions? She read in a book once about how the patriarch, or male leader, of a herd or grouping of animals ousted the younger, adolescent males from the group. The same book that she read had said that the ousted young males joined up with other ousted males as a Bachelor Unit or Group.

Well, there was Bile. Her adoptive brother, three hundred and one years younger than she, was with a group of humans that consisted of two males and two females. Was Bile with a Bachelor Group or was he just hanging with some humans? The book that she read hadn't said a thing about female bachelors and it had also said nothing on females joining with all-male bachelor groups. The book that she read had said that female animals usually joined up with other, unrelated males or they went and lived a solitary life. Where humans like animals? Did they throw their adolescent male and female young out of the house? Did them just-ousted adolescent humans join-up with other ousted youngsters? The book that she read had said nothing about intelligent lifeforms ousting their young—it had just been written on animals.

She was wondering why Bile was with two girls in a possible Bachelor Group when he stood up. He stood awkwardly, and she wondered why, then, when he turned, then started to follow the blonde-haired human back to the three other humans that were sitting nearby, she saw the state of his pants. Bloody and wet was the word; reddish-green left leg, and the crotch wet and reddish-green. Bile, she knew, had reddish-green blood so the reddish-green staining that was on his pants was his blood. She didn't notice his walk. His odd, little, swaying to and fro walk, with his legs deeply bowed. She had just taken one look at the blood that was on his pants before turning away.

"Oh, I can't watch anymore." Blaiga said as she turned away from the sight that was happening in front of her. Eshal saw that Blaiga's dark blue face had gone a pale, light blue color and she also saw that Blaiga was swallowing hard.

Kaasa turned away next; Sudir and Selik tried to keep looking forward but, in the end, they turned away too. It was only Baruk, Gaajah, and Phaggo that had the nerve to stare forward at Bile as he walked his bowlegged, duckish, and limpish walk around the three humans that were in his company. One of the humans, a male, who had red hair, and who was wearing what-looked-like a rather torn-up jean jacket, had run off towards a cluster of trees. Baruk had followed the human's progress for only a second before returning his gaze to Bile. When he saw the human female with the blonde hair and her three companions, he had initially wanted to run out to give them a little spooking. He didn't know why he called everyone over at the time that he gestured for them to come to where he was; all he knew was that he was compelled to get them over to where he was and fast and he had done so.

The desire to run up and spook the four humans that were in the clearing disappeared right when a drift of snow rose up, beside the blonde-haired girl. He envisioned some sort of snow monster rising up from its slumber, or maybe even a predator that was waiting under the snow for some unwary animal to either come near or step on it. Instead of some snow monster or predator coming up, out of the snow, Bile appeared. The girl gave Bile something, then they talked some, then Bile just sat stupidly in place. Bile had just sat in place for a while before standing up... very strangely.

Bile, the kid that he tried to bully when they were younger, and the kid that he tried to continue to bully a few weeks after he and his loser-brothers and their mother were found and then brought home, had pitched himself forward before standing up. He swayed almost drunkedly at first, with his legs all spread out, then, a few minutes after he stood up, he started to follow the girl, who was backing away from him. Bile followed the girl back to where the other humans were in a very bowlegged, duckish so of way. He was also limping rather badly too.

"Please, someone use their communicator or something," Sudir said. He sounded very sick. Baruk pulled back just a bit for a second, what he saw he didn't much like. Sudir, his and Kaasa's younger brother, looked rather sick in the face and he was shaking his head back and forth. "Call Uncle Tazzy or my dad or something. I'm all for bullying but I'm not for watching someone walk around with blood on the front of their pants... where their balls are."

Phaggo was just reaching into the pocket that was on the left side of his loose, faded blue pants when he saw movement to his left. He looked up; his O-shaped mouth dropped almost instantly. While he could of yelled, something within him kept him from doing so. What came out of him was a hybrid between a grunt and a moan. The communicator that he took from the left pocket of his pants dropped from his hand to the ground; he was too paralyzed to retrieve it. He just stared at the three people that were walking out from under a cluster of trees that were a distance from him.

What he saw was almost like a walking shadow, except for the clothes and the chains and the hoodie. The person who was walking behind Lazeer had a very strong body and he looked pretty tall and it also looked like the person had some wounds to his upper body and to one of his arms. Phaggo reached over; while keeping his eyes on Lazeer, the human with the red hair, and the dark-person, he tapped Gaajah on the elbow. He wasted no time in pointing the three people out after Gaajah turned towards him. Gaajah looked at Lazeer, the red-haired human, and the dark-person for only a second.

"Baruk," Gaajah said. "Lazeer, I see La—"

"Lazeer?" Eshal practically pushed Gaajah over. She cupped her hands over her eyes to get a better look at the three people that were walking towards Bile and the three other humans. She looked at the three people for a minute before lowering her hands. "That's Lazeer but... who's..."

"Numbskull?" Baruk said. "Looks almost like my and my siblings' brother. He—"

Lazeer, the dark person, and the human were too far for them to see much in detail but, now that they were a little bit closer, and now that the dark fellow shoved Lazeer, they were able to see that there was something wrong with Lazeer's face. Phaggo wrestled a small pair of binoculars, that had a rather sensitive camera equipped on them, out from his brown jacket then held them up. He adjusted the settings once then, after making the focus become clearer, he gasped. He dropped the binoculars; while he would swear later that his fingers was nowhere near the sensitive camera's initiate button, he and his parents, along with all of the other adults that were in the Rastatter Rheinaue clearing, would receive a big jolt and then some major chills after seeing the image that the binoculars' sensitive camera had taken. He scooped the binoculars up from the ground quickly then gave them to Eshal. Before stooping down, he gave her a warning of what she'd see through them. He was retrieving his communicator at the same time that Eshal was looking through his binoculars.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you look no worse for wear, Baby Brother." Bile said after Lazeer and Guyunis walked up. Aubin went over to stand next to his sister; he only went over to retrieve Guyunis and Lazeer after being asked to.

"Yeah, no thanks to you and your damn knife." Lazeer snapped in a low whisper that Bile barely heard.

"Me and my "damn" knife probably saved your eye." Bile responded. "And don't you forget Monsieur Guyunis, he—"

"Yeah, i-k-t was your idea though." Guyunis said. "I didn't even want to do it, Bile. You forced me—"

"I "forced" you into doing it because it _needed_ to be done." Bile said quickly. "I was unavailable at the time. I had my own pains to worry about. You was available and, being that you was and are older than he, you got stuck with the job."

"You...!" Guyunis lunged towards Bile. Snow flew behind and around him when he pulled back at the last second.

"Lhaklar would of done it with little or no fuss or problem." Bile said. He had actually been readying himself for a fight. He was glad that his brother had pulled back; he wasn't in the mood, or in shape, for a fight.

While the left side of Lazeer's face was still swollen it wasn't as swollen as it was nearly forty minutes ago. The blood flow that was coming out of the re-opened gash that went across his younger brother's eye had stopped; there was quite a lot of dried blood on the left side of his brother's face, and there was some blood on the collar of Lazeer's jacket too. Lazeer looked plain miserable; he was shying away from anyone or anything that came within close proximity to his left side and, for some odd reason, he was voicing his wish for everyone to give his left side a wide berth in a very low whisper that could barely be heard.

He could concur with his brother's desire of not wanting anyone near his left side—he didn't want anyone near his left leg and he definitely didn't want anyone coming within distance of his still hurting groin. On the Pain-O-Meter, his left knee and shin were a high-level eight. His knee and shin hurt with each step that he took, but he knew that he had to keep walking and going or else, they would go stiff, which would result in his not being able to go home. His groin was paining him a lot more than his knee and shin though; he was hoping for a long, soothing bath in some luke-warm water after getting home. His mother would most probably want to take him to see a Urologist soon after finding out about the hailstone that hit him down there and he, honestly, was hoping that she did because, he didn't like the idea of going through life without his balls or with going through the pain that he was feeling on a daily basis.

"A luke-warm bath. A light snack. Ma taking me to one of them doctors that specify on male reproductive issues or injuries, then, depending on what the doctor does after he sees me, sleep." he was thinking. "That's what I need. Take it easy for a while; only move when I have to. Take my meals in bed; maybe listen to some music while I'm in bed, or read a magazine or something. Ma'll take care of me, she always does. She's always there to help us when we're down."

When he and his mother spoke earlier, he said nothing on where he and his tag-a-long brothers were going and she said nothing on whether they could leave the safety of the shields; while he had no plans in telling her where he, Guyunis, and Lazeer had gone he really didn't know what to tell her if she asked him where he went with his brothers.

Could he tell her that they went to an area in Au am Rhein that had lots of hills in it? How about an area that was in Elchesheim-Illingen that had lots of hills in it? Could he get away with saying that they went to a town that was a distance from the one that they lived in to snowboard and shoot off their BB guns? He didn't like the idea of leaving the safety of the shields earlier, when Angus was leading them to the Steinmauern Kiesgrube mining area. One time, last year, he was discovered as being outside of the shield when he should of been inside of it, by his mother; she wasn't happy when she found him outside of the shield and she had let it be known. Both he and Lhaklar, who was with him on that day, when their mother discovered them walking within close proximity to the camp that housed people that they knew a long time ago, were grounded for two weeks following that discovery. What was going to happen if this little outing was discovered? A three week grounding? A month, two months? A whole damn year? He shivered at the mere thought of doing absolutely nothing but house chores for twelve months; he could deal with being grounded for a week to two weeks but he didn't think he could do a full, twelve month grounding. The longest he had ever gone in a grounding was four, hellaciously long, and boring, months. He didn't want to go through another of that type of grounding and he didn't want to have to go through a twelve month grounding either.

"Bile?" Guyunis asked. He saw Bile shiver; he was concerned for him.

"Do us all a favor," Bile said. He looked at his two brothers. "If you two don't want a grounding, don't say where we went today. If ma asks where we went today, lie. Say we went to a town or something that has lots of hills in it. Don't say that we came here, or that we left the shield."

"Where? What do you sugges-k-t we tell her when she asks us where we went today?" Guyunis asked.

"Say you went to Rottlichwald," Franziska said quickly. "Say we went there to snowboard, then use our BB's."

"Rottlichwald is another nature reserve, but it's a much better managed one and it's also closed off to the public at this time of year." Aubin said. "My sister and I are just going to say that we hopped a section of the reserve's fence if our mum or dat asks us where we went today. You three should say the same thing if your mum asks you where you went today."

"Is it inside the shield?" Bile asked.

"Yes," Aubin replied.

"Okay," Bile and Guyunis said together, in unison. Lazeer just gave a thumb's up to show that he agreed with the plan.

With a plan on what to do if their mother asked them where they went that morning in place, they started getting ready to leave the area. Abelle, her brother, Angus, and Franziska grabbed their duffel bags, then their snowboards and BB guns, then looked over, at Bile, who was just standing idly in place. Bile nodded his head then started walking in the direction that they had come, when they came to the location earlier that morning. Angus walked beside Bile, while Aubin and Franziska walked side by side behind them. Lazeer followed behind them. Abelle looked at Guyunis, then started following the others. Even though the weather was bad, and even though the snow came to nearly their knees, they managed to go twenty yards before coming to a stop.

The scream that penetrated the area was loud, pained, and there were trace elements of surprise in it; Bile was the first to react to it. He was the first to notice who it was that screamed. Aubin and Franziska seized up for a second before turning around while Lazeer, Angus, and Abelle turned around immediately; what they saw stunned and paralyzed them for nearly a full minute. While they could see what was going on, they couldn't really process it. It was like their brain-processors had shorted out. They could see and they could think about what they were seeing, but they couldn't really process them thoughts or the traumatic scene that was going on in front of them. It was only when Eshal and Blaiga ran into view that the processing happened and that their sudden paralysis broke.

"Guyunis!" Bile bellowed.

Bile tried to run forward, but his leg prevented him from getting very far. He tripped, then fell down after taking five steps. The yell of pain that escaped him, after his left knee struck the ground, was nearly as loud as his screaming out for his adoptive brother, who was being mercilessly attacked on three sides by people that were both related to him and that he didn't know. Bile tried to get up but his leg prevented him from doing so; he was forced to watch in terror as his brother rolled and then twisted and turned in every which way as the ones that attacked him upped the power that they had put in their attacks. Bile couldn't believe it! They hadn't had any issues all that morning and they hadn't seen nor heard anything of the ones that were in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve, that was right next door to where they were; while he wanted to believe that it was pure coincidence that they had found them, he also wanted to believe that some sort of cruel joke was being played on them.

On Guyunis's right, there was Gaajah who, technically, was Guyunis's nephew. To Guyunis's left, there was Selik, who was also a nephew of Guyunis's, and, right behind Guyunis, near Guyunis's flopping and rolling and twisting and turning feet, was Baruk... who was Guyunis's grand-nephew. They were all attacking Guyunis at once. All of them had strands of red-colored energy flowing from their hands. All of their faces looked hideously mean.

The scream that he heard had come from Guyunis. He screamed after one of his three attackers wrapped him up in a series of red-hot, red-colored energy strands. Smoke was coming up from between the red-colored energy strands; he could smell flesh burning under them energy strands and he could hear Guyunis's pained screams, but he couldn't do anything to help him. His damn leg and his crotch prevented him from helping his brother out.

"Keep at him!" Eshal screamed at Baruk, Gaajah, and Selik, who had Guyunis practically pinned to the ground. "I don't want him anywhere near my brothers!"

This was the second time in eight days where he was caught unprepared for an attack and, unlike the first time, where the attack was a small one, and where he just took a small step or two back, he was paying dearly for his unpreparedness. He was in pain, he was screaming incoherently for help, and he was growing angry over the fact that someone had run up to attack him. He was deafened by his screams, so he couldn't really tell what the girl, who was running towards Bile, had said. The girl, who ran past his pinned-down figure, was going straight for Bile, who must of collapsed—he was nearly lying on his side on the ground! Bile's lips were moving. He knew Bile was yelling something, but he couldn't tell what that something was and he couldn't tell who Bile was yelling for or at. The girl, a rather pretty one, who had light blue skin and hair, but purple bangs, reached Bile quickly.

Bile, he saw, pushed the girl back when she got to him. Bile's push mustn't of fazed the girl because she came at him again. He wished that he could get up and help his bruder but he couldn't; while he was worried about his temporarily crippled bruder, he couldn't speak or even stand. He didn't know where Lazeer was and that went double on the four humans that he and his bruders had spent time with that morning. He figured that the humans had run off in a panic, which he thought was very appropriate for the situation that was going on.

As he flailed around, feeling his body burn and feeling his body pains grow worse and worse by the second, he took in his three attackers. All of what they were wearing was fuzzy, so he couldn't make out what they were wearing, but he could see some of their facial features. The person to his left had bi-colored skin, just like Bile; the left side of the person's face was dark red while the other side of his face was a full silver color. Unlike Bile, this person had twisted and ringed horns on top of his head. He couldn't see anything else on that person; his limited vision had only allowed him to see that much. The only thing that he could make out on the person that was to his right was that he had light blue skin and slightly elongated ears that were a darker blue color. The person behind him was so fuzzy... he could barely make out any of his features. All he could be sure of was that the third person that was attacking him looked very similar to Bile. Each of the three people that were keeping him pinned to the ground looked mean; the one who looked very similar to Bile had what he called a pleasure-smile spread wide across his face—a smile that said, in the simplest of ways, he was enjoying himself.

"You _Demon_ - _Spawn_!" why his mind was replaying his past was beyond him but, he was suddenly remembering one of his former-mutter's, Lulu Meyer, screaming at him after she saw him using his Elemental powers one day. Lulu and her husband, Randolf, adopted him two months and three weeks after his birth-mutter returned him to the adoption agency after she discovered that his current and so-many-times-said-forever mum—Angel Irene—had him in her custody. He didn't know much about Lulu. He didn't know her maiden name and he didn't know much of her past history. Lulu Meyer was a particularly cruel and overly-religious woman and she was sure mean towards him. When she saw him using his Elemental powers one day, she flipped. "You _dare_ use them _Demon_ powers in _my_ house? You _dare_ to use them powers of the _Devil_ in _my_ house?"

Lulu Meyer, he remembered, had beat him whenever she saw him using his powers and she had encouraged her husband and kids to do the same thing whenever they saw him using his powers and, thanks to them—and their oldest son, Lukas, and later on their grandson, Bruno, who kept the beatings going whenever they saw or heard of him using his powers—, he had grown fearful of his powers and of using his powers. He had pretty much been a rookie with his powers when his new mum adopted him; he had barely known the basics of his powers and he had, initially, intended to keep them at that. After seeing his bruders sparring, using their powers without fear and using more advanced moves and steps, he decided to try to let that fear go. While he had grown use to his powers, and while he knew that it was okay to use his powers, he still had a mild fear of them.

"Probably because you don't know the full extent of your powers yet." his mum said one day, a few months ago, after he and Hazaar came home from sparring. Hazaar wasn't in a good mood and he was ashamed of himself because, instead of sparring with Hazaar, he had mainly been running in fear. He had told her about his fear after she asked him how his sparring went with his bruder; he had originally wanted to lie but, instead, he told her the truth of how he felt about his powers. "You're still learning the ropes of your powers—you're still in training, I mean. Take it easy, they'll come to you in time. Rushing the lessons only brings trouble; you don't learn as efficiently as you should—rushing while training could well get you hurt. One day, you'll be just as good with your powers as your brothers are with theirs."

While he wasn't as good in using his powers as his bruders were, he had grown better, stronger, and wiser in using them and he wasn't as scared of them as he use to be. All of his bruders could use all of the elements in their powers, from air to ground to water to fire, while he had only acquired the use of three of them. He couldn't do Elemental Air; not even a puff of air would fly from his hands, which he thought was strange. No one knew this little issue but he; only he knew that he couldn't use that one power in the Elemental powers. He figured that, one day, the ability to do that power would come to him. Maybe, he just wasn't ready to learn that power or, maybe, he wasn't strong or wise enough to be equipped with it yet. He was content with waiting for that power to show up in his repertoire of powers. While he was content in waiting and hoping that that one power would come to him, he did wish that one of his acquired powers would disappear. While he now felt okay with his Elemental and Energy powers, he was absolutely terrified of this other power that he could do.

This other power that he had, that he was terrified of, was almost always triggered by bouts of either extreme anger or emotional stress—he'd get real mad, or real upset, then his body temperature would soar. Sometimes, his body would glow a green color and, sometimes, it wouldn't. Sometimes, he'd just swing his arm out or kick out his leg and a stream of green fog or smoke would shoot out. The stream of fog or smoke would come out from either his hand or foot for the longest of time before dying out—he'd find himself utterly exhausted after that happened. People would claim that the area where his green fog or smoke had struck was poisoned by radiation; sometimes, small amounts of radiation were found in the area where that fog or smoke had struck while, other-times, the area would be so radiation-filled that it, and the areas around it, had to be evacuated. While he didn't know why the radiation poisoning kept coming up with this power of his, he did know this: he would be exhausted and sick for nearly a week after using this strange and scary power.

He had caused a lot of damage the last time he used this power. A lot of people were injured and he had actually killed three, who were doing nothing more than either sleeping in bed or getting a late-night snack or, quite possibly, just staying up because they couldn't sleep. He destroyed his new family's former home by using that power, then he set fire to an island nearby in his rage. This power, he fully believed, was deadly and dangerous and he, honestly, didn't want anything to do with it. He started showing this power very early on in life. It was a very weak power in his kid-years but, it seemed to of grown stronger as he went into his early and then mid-teenage years and he didn't know why. He wasn't using this power to train with; he hoped that, by ignoring the power, it'd be forgotten. That hadn't happened. He feared that it would be unleashed here and soon; he was getting angry. He could feel his anger growing and he could feel the dial as it inched closer into that black zone.

"Selik! Add more power, will ya?" the guy to his right yelled at the guy, who was to his left.

"I'm putting near everything I got into this fool, Gaajah!" the guy to his left, the one who had the spiraling horns on his head, yelled back.

His arms, the entire time he was flailing about on the ground, were free. They were either in front of him or to his sides. Since his arms were currently at his sides, he angled them then closed his eyes. He felt the anger that he was trying to keep down boiling and roiling inside him, he felt the volcanic lava of his blood burble as it readied itself for the eruption that was about to happen, and he felt his inner body grow tense. It seemed like all of his internal organs had slowed to a crawl as the lava that was his blood started to course through his veins at a much faster pace. When he felt his blood reach his heart, he jerked his eyelids open; the energy bands, that had just settled over his arms, were engulfed in a green glow, then they were burst off his body as if they were suddenly cut. Two of the three people that were attacking him took half a dozen steps back before coming at him again; he jumped to his feet then leaped up. He kicked the person that had the slightly elongated ears, that were a darker blue color than the rest of his body, in the gut then he turned and grabbed the person that had the horns on his head by the throat. He heaved the person up then, with a loud roar, slammed him to the ground. When the fellow with the dark blue, elongated ears came at him again, he swung his fist. The fellow with the dark blue, elongated ears made a sound then dropped to his side in the snow. Just one swing was enough to take him out.

He turned his head down for only a second to see what the other fellow would do then, after seeing that the horned-guy was cowering from him, he walked towards the one fellow that was still standing. Bile, who now seemed to be miles from him, was calling for him to come to him. From the corner of his eye, he saw that the four humans that he, Bile, and Lazeer had joined that day for some snowboarding and BB gun shooting were dealing with three other beings. Franziska had her arms wrapped around the neck of a tall, dark blue fellow, who looked somewhat like Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer; she was holding on for dear life as the guy twisted and turned his body every which way to get her off. Abelle was fist-fighting with another of the beings—this one looked feminine—while Angus and Aubin were teaming-up against the other being. Lazeer was racing towards Bile; another feminine being, who looked like Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer, was chasing him.

"Yuhm cahm bein ein oult!" the fellow in front of him said.

He didn't know what the guy said; while he took three courses in languages at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, then two others in Goboshu's Academy of Meanness, he didn't take the language that the fellow that was standing in front of him had used and, really, did it matter? The guy must of meant what he said in his unknown language because here he came.

He dipped his left shoulder low then, with a cat-like grace that he didn't know he possessed, slid out the way. He stuck his foot out; the guy tripped over it then fell flat on his face. The fellow got to his feet quickly then came at him again; his assailant swung one, fire-engulfed fist after another at him. He dodged each blow before holding his hand out. When the guy's hand met his own, he made a fist; a current of near-clear energy flowed down from his left arm on down to his hand. The guy that's hand he was holding screamed in pain before charging forward. He used the same cat-like grace that he used earlier again to get out of the way then he turned around. He kicked his leg up; while he didn't understand the reason for why, he suddenly found himself laughing after the sole of his heavy brown boot struck the guy's left thigh with a loud, meaty thud.

After the guy stopped, then turned around, he was able to get his first, real look at him. Up to that moment, he hadn't really had a clue as to who he was fighting; all he knew about the fellow was that he looked somewhat like Bile... now that his vision had cleared up some, and now that the fellow had stopped for a second, he could see that, while the fellow did resemble Bile a little, he didn't, fully, look like Bile.

Like Bile, the fellow had elongated ears that went only half of the length of his shoulders. They were colored differently, though; along with having red, Tiger-like stripes on them, they were black. The left side of the fellow's face was a blood red color—a very dark red color that was so dark, it almost looked black—while the other side of his face was an imperial red color, which he did think contrasted nicely with the color that was on the other half of his face. The guy had long, imperial red fingernails on each of his fingers that were pretty sharp. The fellow's eyes looked plain evil to him. He had never seen eyes like his and he hoped he never would again. The scleras and the irises were a fiery red color while the pupils were small and black in color. The fellow stood six foot, three inches and he had a very strong-looking body that had good muscle on it. That was all he could take in on the fellow that he was fighting. The fellow ran at him, yelling like a madman all the way.

"Nienke... diem!" the fellow yelled as he ran towards him.

The near Bile-like fellow lunged then swung both of his fists at him. He was temporarily disorientated by a punch to the face; the fellow took full advantage of his confusion by landing blow after blow on his body. He shook his head as the fellow's fists struck home in his stomach, chest, and shoulders then, after the fellow's right fist struck him on the hip, he swung his arm. The fellow went sailing two feet. He landed on his back, then slid a further three feet back, before stopping. He got up then charged at him again; a fire attack was being prepared for use at the same time that he was running back into the fight. He lunged at the guy then tied the guy up in his arms after their bodies collided; black and near-clear electric currents crackled and then popped from his backside. His subdued opponent screamed in agony as he electrocuted him. He was just gearing up to add more oomph to his attack when he suddenly felt himself being pushed back. He sent a red bolt at the fellow after being pushed from him then, after feeling someone's hand wrap around his wrist, he kicked his leg up. The fellow that he was fighting, who had, yet again, just lunged at him, screamed a shocked scream then dropped to his knees.

"Hey! Heyheyheyheyhey!" Bile said in rapid succession when Guyunis turned on him. Bile took three good punches in the chest from his brother before deciding to wrap his arms around him. It took a short while before Bile felt Guyunis calm down; he only released his brother when he felt that he was a little more calm. Guyunis shook his head then turned to look at the fellow that he had just battled.

"Wha..." Baruk said. There was a spot of blood on the snow between Baruk's knees. The spot of blood grew when Baruk opened his mouth; fresh blood sloshed the snow, as did two of his teeth. Baruk looked at the blood, then at his teeth, in shock before stretching his hand down. He picked the two teeth up then looked at Bile and Guyunis. "Who..."

Bile winced then pulled himself and Guyunis back; he was having a hard time in putting all of the pieces together of what just transpired in the last five minutes. It was like time had slowed up for him. He remembered Eshal, his adoptive father's oldest child and only daughter, running up to him and he also remembered her running her hands over his top half. She asked him several times if he was alright before he managed to push her back; while she yelled in surprise, his push hadn't deterred her any in fussing over him. Blaiga Ubalki, his adoptive aunt and Lazeer's actual, blood-related aunt, was doing the same thing to Lazeer at the time. Lazeer, he thought, was smart in running off; Blaiga chased after him after he took to his heels.

Angus, Aubin, Franziska, and Abelle had either noticed Sudir, Phaggo, and Kaasa and had decided to fight them, so they wouldn't be allowed or tempted to join in on Baruk's, Gaajah's, and Selik's attack on Guyunis, or they were fighting in defense after Sudir, Phaggo, and Kaasa attacked them. Guyunis was fighting and beating back Gaajah and Gaajah's younger brother, Selik, right when Eshal returned to fussing over him. Eshal helped him to his feet—he was rather fuzzy on the details of this happening; he didn't know if he let Eshal help him to his feet or if he struggled when she was helping him to his feet—then she tried to lead him away. He pushed her away from him then he went towards Guyunis, who was fighting BarukVile Glosu Surfeit—his grandfather's young son, who was two thousand, one hundred, and one years old—at the time. He had just reached Guyunis when Guyunis kicked his foot up. He barely had any recollection of pulling Guyunis away, but he remembered very clearly that Guyunis's boot was kicked squarely into Baruk's face.

Before his fight with Guyunis, Baruk had looked like a near-perfect replica of his father. Now, he looked... very messed up. His face was cut in many places and each of them cuts were bleeding and quite profusely too. His mouth was a bloody mess; each time he opened his mouth to speak, or to make a sound—any sound—, large globs of blood would come out. He was also losing teeth. The first time he spoke, he lost two teeth. He lost two more teeth after speaking for the second time. He was looking at his evicted teeth in a comically shocked sort of way; it was like he was trying to decide whether or not they had come from his mouth or if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Baruk's lips, both the top and the lower, were split in the middle; there was blood dripping from them. The heel of Guyunis's heavy, waterproof, brown boot was imprinted on Baruk's chin; the blood, that was flowing from Baruk's torn lips, and from the corner of Baruk's mouth, was going down his chin and jaw before falling down to the snow. Bile thought he was going to vomit; he had seen boxing and wrestling shows, where the boxer or the wrestler came out of a fight with a busted or broken face, that was bleeding just as badly as Baruk's was, but... but in them shows, the blood had looked very fake. The greenish-colored blood, that was coming out of the many wounds that were on Baruk's face, was not in any way, shape, or form fake. That was real blood. The real deal. Baruk's face was really broken. He was really losing teeth and he was bleeding real blood.

"Oh shit," Bile managed to say. He grabbed, and then squeezed, Guyunis's arm at the same time that Gaajah and Selik ran over to Baruk's side. "Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!"

"Baruk!" Gaajah exclaimed. He pulled back after Baruk looked at him. Gaajah's complexion went a degree lighter for only a second before going green; he turned around after his complexion went green. He started getting sick at the same time that his younger brother was getting sick.

"What..." Baruk said, now his eyes held that terrified look. He was scared; Bile could see it and so could Guyunis. Baruk coughed into his hands twice then started to stand up; he was just pushing himself up when he saw two more teeth on the snow, between his knees. He lost it right then and there. He looked down, at the two teeth, that were on the snow, that he knew were his, then he looked up at Bile, and the fellow that he had just fought. Bile waited only a second more for Lazeer, Angus, Aubin, Abelle, and Franziska to reach his side before reaching over and then grabbing Lazeer by the elbow. He teleported them out of the area at the same time that Baruk started to get hysterical.


	27. Part 3

From the Munich _Münchner Merkur_ , October 22, 4100 (Page 1)  
Mayor Declares Oktoberfest II A Roaring Success  
Oktoberfest II Draws in Record Crowd; Aliens Included

Despite being a roaring success, Mayor Dieter Kronawitter has declared that this year's double-held Oktoberfest will not receive a repeat next year. The holding of Oktoberfest II was a surprise to all; nearly twenty thousand attended it and, according to some sources, there were even some other worldly attendees in attendance. After the weather, that's been experienced all over the globe, caused many of our country's scheduled events to be cancelled, the hosts' of this year's Oktoberfest decided to allow for a one-day only, second holding of their event after three of the year's thirty planned events were cancelled due to either the weather or to earthquake or weather-related damages.

"We—that's everyone in my administrative building, myself included—were thrilled when word reached us that the people that hosted this year's Oktoberfest were going to allow their event to be held for one full day after most of the month's planned events weren't held as scheduled. We were all humbled over the hosts' saying that they were doing this in light of our country's people, who were forced to stay at home after one or more of the events that they were looking forward to going to were cancelled; it just shows that there is still good, decent folk out there." Mayor Dieter Kronawitter said upon being questioned about his feelings towards a second-holding of this year's Oktoberfest.

When asked about the event's other worldly attendees, Mayor Dieter Kronawitter had nothing to say. A small portion of the reports that were made after the funfair's early conclusion stated that a Master Vile-like creature, that "looked pretty well doped up on steroids", was seen walking about the fairgrounds that the Oktoberfest funfair has been held on since its birth. A good chunk of the reports that were made had mentioned that three, tall, Gray Alien-like beings were also seen walking about the fairgrounds, creating all matter of disruption with the fairgoers. Oktoberfest II was shut down early, at 11:25 p.m., after one of the four-reported aliens assaulted a fairgoer. Curiously, the Master Vile-like creature that was seen at the fair was reported as not causing any trouble; reports claim that he did nothing more than walk around the fairgrounds.

A small handful of reports also claim that two, Troll-like creatures were also seen walking around the fairgrounds; no reports have surfaced on what their activities were or if they caused any disruption at the fair.

Questions abound on whether someone was playing a cruel prank on this year's Oktoberfest patrons by dressing up like a "steroid using" Master Vile or if the Master Vile-like creature was real; the administrative offices in our city haven't answered any questions on this being or on the other beings that were also seen at the fair.

From the Karlsruhe _Durlacher Blatt_ , November 3, 4100 (Page 3)  
Remnants Of Days Past Damaged During Hailstorm

The mayor of Au am Rhein and the city of Karlsruhe had a rather difficult task to do yesterday, after word reached them about how two of the four remnants of the old power system were damaged during the sudden hail-and-wind storm that occurred before noon on October 31. The reported damages done to the two power poles were minor but, historically, important since the two damaged power poles and the two undamaged power poles are the last of their kind in southern Europe.

"We started looking for someone that has experience and training in fixing old power systems after we heard about them two poles losing their wires," Giomar Rihm, the mayor of Au am Rhein, said after being questioned about the the damages done to the two power poles.

The mayor of Au am Rhein, Giomar Rihm, and the administration of Karlsruhe found out about the damaged power poles on the first of November. After a near twenty-four hour search, an electrician that had experience in handling old power systems was found and hired to fix the damages. The power poles, which have been kept semi-active for educational and historic reasons since the dismantling of the old power system on August 13, 3870, were returned to working order before dawn of today.

Besides the two damaged power poles, there are also reports of broken windows in housing and business buildings, damaged vehicles, and many injuries following the hail-and-wind storm that happened on the thirty-first of October. Efforts for damaged building repairs are slowly being done in the districts where storm-related damages have been reported.

From the Baden-Baden _Badisches Tagblatt_ , November 3, 4100 (Page 1)  
Hailstorm Came 'Out of Nowhere' Claims Weather Forecasters

While weather forecasters haven't been able to adequately predict the weather for a month they say that conditions prior to the October thirty-first hailstorm shouldn't of allowed for such a violent storm to happen. While the temperature was appropriate for hail to form there wasn't much liquid available for the size-ratio of the hail that fell to develop on; the heavy snow, that was falling before the hail, was using much of the available liquid-water in the clouds. The most curious thing about the storm was the fact that, while there was a very strong downdraft present, there was no updraft.

"It's very strange, a storm that has no updraft would be dissipating. This storm was not dissipating; while it started slowly, and weakly, it grew strong and powerful at a very fast pace." Roderik Eilerts, a weather forecaster for the EMWS News, said after being questioned about the hailstorm. "When the hail started falling, it was small—about pebble-sized. That hail grew to the size of a fifty euro cent piece and then to the size of a full grown man's fist in a very short span of time and we also have the strong winds that were constantly changing direction and a very heavy snowfall happening in the same storm. A dissipating storm wouldn't of acted like this. A dissipating storm would of just dropped either small snowflakes or a light drizzle; a slight breeze might of also been felt."

The equipment that EMWS uses to measure wind shear was damaged during the storm so they weren't able to get an accurate measurement of how strong the wind was during the storm. The KLB9 News lost their wind measuring equipment during the storm and the equipment that AO12 News, DU7 News, and OIT3 News uses to measure wind strength malfunctioned during the storm. The hailstorm that happened on the 31st of October caused damage to not only housing and business buildings but to vehicles and to two of the four remaining power poles that the city of Karlsruhe decided to keep up and semi-active in the town of Au am Rhein, after a new power system was put into effect on August 13, 3870.

The three hundred and fifty-two citizens, that were caught out in the storm, were rushed to local hospitals with various hail-related injuries after the storm quieted down. Most of the injuries reported were minor.

From the Bietigheim _Bietigheimer Zeitung_ , November 3, 4100 (Page 2)  
Cause Of Roaring Explosion That Was Heard Before Hailstorm's Conclusion Still Unknown

While the violent hailstorm, that happened before twelve-noon on the thirty-first of October, is still generating a lot of interest in south-western Germany and north-eastern France, talk of the roar-like explosion that was heard a few minutes before the hailstorm lost its punch is quite low, which is thought to be quite strange by many because it was heard by not only people that reside in Germany but by thousands of others that live in four other countries that border Germany.

"It was more than loud, it was deafening!" Luca Bueche, a resident of the north-western Switzerland town of Brugg, said after being asked if he heard the explosion.

"I heard it alright. Was stuck in my tool shed during the storm—I thought my right ear exploded afterwards because it was bleeding." Hansi Bumgarner, a resident of Rheinmünster, Germany, said.

While the roar-like explosion that was heard from Germany to Luxembourg to north-eastern and middle France to north-western Switzerland and to a small percentage of western Austria didn't cause any structural or vehicular damage it did cause many ear-related injuries, such as ruptured eardrums, mild to severe ear infections, and inner-ear bruising and bleeding to many who were unable to get indoors after the hailstorm began. People who were outside at the time of the explosion reported hearing or feeling a buzz or a ring in their ears after the explosion. Over a thousand people have been treated for ear-related injuries in hospitals and small medical clinics.

The cause for the roar-like explosion is still not known; there were no fires or car accidents reported as happening during or even after the explosion occurred and all flights to and from airports located in south Germany and from Laupheim Air Base in Leupheim, Baden-Württemberg and Niederstetten Air Base in Niederstetten, Baden-Württemberg were cancelled hours prior to the hailstorm.

While the cause of the explosion isn't known, it is known that several German, French, and Austrian scientists have compared it to what happened during the final moments of the August 26, 1883 Krakatoa eruption. The administration of the Chancellery have refused to comment on the question of whether or not the new arrival to the alien camp that was discovered on the sixth of October, in a clearing located in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve, is the cause for both the hailstorm and the explosion that concluded the hailstorm.

From the Elchesheim-Illingen _Herold_ , November 7, 4100 (Page 2)  
Flu Pandemic Underway As Unpredictable Weather Continues Into November

A jubilant cheer was sounded last year, after a five-year snow drought came to a close in late-December. Even after all the colds that were reported and experienced, spirits remained high and more snow was warmly welcomed to fall on our part of the country. After the 4099 winter season, where our small part of Germany received heavy snowfall while the rest of our country and the rest of Europe received either light or heavy snowfall or rain, ended questions began to be asked on what the winter season of 4100 would be like; if the drought would return with a vengeance or if what we experienced last year would have a repeat this year. It looks like the answer to them asked questions is a resonant yes and no.

In October, we had snow, rain, negative degree temperatures, and record-breaking heat waves; it looks like November will take a similar route. The unpredictable weather began after the October 2 earthquake that was felt all over the globe; a dark gray snow fell right after that quake and it continued to fall for all of a week before stopping. Birds and other local wildlife fled not only Germany but all other countries in Europe, Eurasia, and the island nations for their winter roosts; the Chancellery's administration worked feverishly to help those in need of both medical aid and damage relief and the local animal organizations and sanctuaries worked feverishly to help any and all animals that were either not able to make the trip to their winter roosts or that became trapped in the quagmires that formed after the dark gray snow melted on the ninth of October.

October ended in a bang—literally! Not only were we treated to five days of heavy snow but we also had a hailstorm on the thirty-first of October that concluded only after a roar-like explosion was heard. The heavy snow continued to fall for all of three days following the roar-like explosion and, quite possibly, it was that that caused the Influenza pandemic that is being felt not only all over our country but all over south-western Europe. Over eighty thousand have been reported as being admitted to hospitals or making up appointments to see doctors in small medical clinics after coming down with the flu. Most of the flu cases have been mild. This, coupled with the ear-related traumas such as infected ears, ruptured eardrums, and ear bleeding and bruising, has made supplies in some medical facilities dry up.

Most of all of our country's schools have been closed due to the pandemic and most stores cannot keep certain supplies that help the ill on their shelves. Orange juice, crackers, tissue paper, cold-related medications, fruits and vegetables, and canned soups are what most stores are lacking on their shelves; our government is claiming that it is trying its best to get the supplies that our sick citizens need to feel and get better. A large shipment of supplies, that was slated to be delivered to two of Bischweir's stores, was claimed in less than two hours after it was placed on the stores' shelves; another large shipment of supplies was looted by a frenzied crowd right outside of Hügelsheim which, ironically, was the destination of that shipment of supplies.

The military has been dispatched to surround all other supply shipments; so far, no other reports of looting or unrest have been reported.

He flipped the newspaper article, that he just read, over, to see if there was anything on the back that he needed to read, then, when he saw that the article that was on back of the one that he had just read was of no importance, he flipped it back around. He placed the article behind the other four then he slid the whole lot under the paperclip, that was on the back of the file, that was on his lap. With the five articles securely placed under the paperclip, he flipped the file's front flap over, so that it was closed. The file was placed on the side table that was beside him afterwards. There was a sterling silver goblet, that had a skeletal dragon engraving on all of its sides, on the same table; he grabbed and then brought it to his lips quickly. He drank about a third of the wine that was in the glass before placing the glass back on the spot that he had gotten it from.

The office file contained nothing that one in a regular, old office would find. There were no statistics or logs or graphs in the file, and that went double for other business-type things too. The file contained things that either a detective or one who was looking for a lost person would find—newspaper articles, along with reports of sightings and photographs of the ones in question who had been sighted. He had looked at each piece closely, carefully, and five times in the last week that it was in his possession. He contemplated going through the file's contents for a sixth time for all of a minute before standing up. He grabbed the file then walked it over to a cabinet that had one drawer on it. He slid the file into the cabinet's one drawer then went back to his chair; he figured that, since he went through the file's contents five times, he didn't need to look through them again. He pretty much knew the file's contents by heart anyways, so a sixth viewing wasn't necessary.

After reading the newspaper articles for the first time, he became confused. His grandson claimed that he and his sister saw and then had a confrontation with Hazaar, and that his stepfather, Cheshire Ubalki, saw and had a confrontation with Lhaklar, and then with Bile, at the fair that they went to on the twenty-third of October; if that was true then, why hadn't that been put in the articles that were written on the fair that they went to? The Munich _Münchner Merkur_ had just mentioned their being at the fair; it hadn't gone into detail on their appearance nor had it mentioned anything about the young Lads being there either.

To tell the frank truth, all of them articles hadn't seemed right to him. If his great-great granddaughter's sons were seen in the country then why hadn't they been written of in the papers? And, surely, if Angel was of such importance to the people of this planet, then why were her children being let to fend for themselves like his grandson thought they were? If Angel was so important to the humans of the planet that he was currently on, why hadn't her sons been taken in, protected, or put into foster care?

"I don't know," his grandson said, after he asked him why his sons hadn't been properly protected or put under foster care by the people or the government of the country that they had set camp up in.

"Has there been any exhibitions of protection shown by any of the people that reside in this country towards your sons?" he asked.

"Can't really answer that question," his grandson replied. "A crowd did form after Qeeta and I made our presence known to Hazaar and a guard did come up when I was disciplining Hazaar at that fair. After the guard got my attention, he looked at my son. He said something to my son about a former occurrence to where he had helped him earlier that evening. No one else came up to us; Qeeta was shot after the guard and I had a little tussle but that was it."

"Did you see who shot Qeeta?"

"No, the guard had my attention at the time."

The photographs, that were in the office file, did show no form of protection or concern being expressed or given to the youngsters that his grandson thought were motherless. The one that was taken on the twenty-fourth of August, for example, showed Lazeer walking down a walkway in a place called Bietigheim with no other person accompanying him; the humans that were in the photograph were doing nothing more than walking by. Minding their own business, and paying the young Lad no mind at all. The sighting of Lhaklar, his great-great granddaughter's secondborn son, who was his thirdborn grandson's firstborn son, in the city of Bühl was another fine example of the young Lads being given no concern or protection from the ones around them. Lhaklar went into a jewelry store; he obviously bought something then he went off to where an apartment complex was before disappearing. No humans had intervened, had stopped him from smoking the stick—which he and Tazir both agreed was a cigarette—that he was smoking, and, other than Tazir's staff member, no one had followed or paid him any mind. Again, the young Lad was left to his own advances.

He closed his eyes after running them two examples through his head; Lazeer, the poor thing! The camera that was on the young Ubalki boy's binoculars had captured a nice photograph that had shown a rather shocking injury to his grandson's youngest son's face. Tazir had already been in a state of shock after seeing what Bile had looked like; he came close to fainting after he saw that photograph. From what he was told, one of his grandson's staff had to escort him to the chamber that he was using on his ship after he saw it. Tazir wasn't in the best of emotional states after he saw the injury that his youngest son had on his face.

Everyone, himself included, was shocked after seeing them two photographs but, of everyone that saw them, it was really only Tazir, and his mother, that reacted to them. Everyone, himself included, was too busy worrying over something else at the time to take the photographs fully in or react to them.

The last article that he read, the one from the Elchesheim-Illingen _Herold,_ was written exactly one week after his arrival to the planet; a lot had happened in the week following his arrival to the planet. Besides doctor's appointments being scheduled for the kids that went to the neighboring nature reserve, there was a lot of fussing and fighting going on. Not to mention, all the stress that Tazir, Kuruk, and Irka were going through.

His trip through space, his trip through the planet's atmosphere's, and his landing had gone well; he hadn't had any problems with any of that and he hadn't had any issues with having his only son standing at his elbow while he was doing the necessary protocols after landing his ship either. Running the protocols—making sure that all of the controls were in order, getting the ramp down, making sure to power-down the ship's main engine and thrusters, and checking all of the pressure gauges—had gone smoothly. He and his son had talked all the while. His son had only left his elbow after word reached him that two of his three young children were assaulted by some dangerous, malevolent being, who also injured another seriously. His son left his ship quickly; he finished his protocols before going on to do the other things that were also on his To-Do list.

He took a shower, his face was shaved of its fuzz, he ate a good meal, then he slept for a few hours. No one had bothered him. It was a good, five hours after his arrival before someone came by to explain what was going on in the area where he and his family had set camp in.

"My employer wishes to express his apologies through me on not coming here himself," the female Goblin, that he let into his ship, said. The Goblin, Attaec was her name, had rather pretty, yellow eyes set in a rather peaceful looking face that was a near-purple color; if he remembered correctly, the pupils, that were in the centers of her eyes, were an interesting blue color. If he hadn't grown tired of the Goblin people, he would of been entranced, sexually, by his little visitor; his root hadn't grown any and he hadn't felt the urge to mate when the Goblin came over. While his libido was great, he just had no interest in the Goblin.

"What is it that brought you over here?" he asked.

"My employer asked for me to give you this and to tell you what's going on in camp." the Goblin said. He took the office file from her slowly then he listened to her talk about what was going on in camp.

According to the Goblin, Tazir had gone into a frenzy after being told that his daughter, younger siblings, and young nephews and niece had still been out and about when he started his descent into the planet. Tazir had come close to making a trench in the deep snow that was on the ground at the time in his plight to his ship; he tore his way to his ship's communication's deck then he sent out a frantic message to his daughter, which was answered a few minutes later. Eshal, from what he was told, was fine. She was checked over by a doctor; no ear-related trauma's—ruptured eardrums, ear bleeding, or bruising—were noted on her. She was just upset over what she saw when she was at the neighboring nature reserve that the locals called the Silberweidenwald Steinmauern.

After being checked over, and then given a clean bill of health, Eshal allowed her father to view her memories of what happened at the reserve. He was surprised that the young Lass was fully competent upstairs; what she saw wasn't pretty or pleasant—Attaec had actually admitted that it was bad enough hearing about what happened at the neighboring nature reserve. Seeing the events as they happened through Eshal's memories was far worse.

Eshal, the two Ubalki children, Baruk and his two siblings, and Gaajah and Selik had come upon Bile and Lazeer at the neighboring nature reserve seven days ago; Bile, from what he was told, had looked perfectly fine on the twenty-third of October, which was eight days prior to their sighting in the Silberweidenwald Steinmauern nature reserve. Eshal and all of the kids that traveled to the neighboring nature reserve were quick to note that he was very badly injured; something was up with his left leg and with his groin.

"He could barely walk! His pants, from the waist on down to his left pant-leg, were wet or damp. They were also a greenish-red color." Eshal had said.

The evidence of what Bile's leg and groin had looked like was included in the office file that he was given; he fought hard to not cross his legs after seeing the greenish-red stain that was on the crotch part of Bile's pants. The left pant leg of Bile's pants was very badly stained as well; either something happened to Bile's leg to make it bleed or Bile had walked through some mud and then through some green, leafy bushes. Tazir, from what he was told, had made a few, strange sounds after he saw the state of Bile's pants; he came close to screaming after he saw the photograph that showed the state of Lazeer's face a few minutes later. While Tazir hadn't screamed, his mother, Ashaklar, had. She took one look at the photograph of Lazeer's facial injury then she let it out; most of the men that were present when the photograph of Lazeer's injury was shown had gone pale, but they had managed to keep control of themselves.

At best, Lazeer had a nasty flesh-wound that would take some time to heal. At worst, Lazeer had lost his eye. He couldn't really tell which one it was; the photograph that was included in the office file wasn't clear on this detail. He hoped that his grandson's youngest son, who was born prematurely at five and a half months gestation, just had a flesh-wound that would take some time to heal. It was pretty evident that the young Lad was in pain—nearly the whole left side of his face was bruised and it also looked badly scabbed over. He didn't need to be told that one who had that bad of an injury would experience/feel a lot of pain.

If that was all that happened at the neighboring nature reserve things wouldn't of been as bad as they became in camp but, alas, bad things usually did come in three's. Phaggo—he did believe that was the Lad's name—Ubalki, after using his communicator to contact and then tell his father what was going on in the area where he was in, was told to keep himself and his companions where they were; apparently, the youngster hadn't done as his father had told him to because, when his father, Cheshire Ubalki, showed up, he found that all of the children were running about in the open. Young Phaggo—if that was his name—was given a proper scolding after he was retrieved from the neighboring reserve after his father got over the shocking sight that he came upon.

"It was a bloody battlefield!" the report, that was in the office file, quoted Cheshire Ubalki as saying. "There was blood all over the place and... and most of it came from either Bile or Baruk."

Apparently, Baruk, Gaajah, and Selik decided to fight the dark-skinned fellow that they, the two Ubalki children, Kaasa, Sudir, and Eshal had seen with Bile and Lazeer. From what the report in the office file said, they wrapped the being up in a "sweater" of red-hot, red-colored energy strands after he started "herding" Bile, Lazeer, and the four humans out of the area. The person rolled all over the place for a bit before rolling over to his back. Gaajah and Selik were very adamant that he caused the energy strands that they and Baruk had placed around his body to break; after freeing himself from the energy strands that were around his body, he turned on his attackers. Selik was grabbed around the throat and then body slammed while Gaajah received a punch to the abdomen that caused some internal bleeding to happen.

Baruk... the poor Lad! Cheshire Ubalki claimed that the youngster very nearly knocked him over backwards. Baruk's face had nearly been destroyed by a well-placed kick—that, and his near-total fear of the situation, had made him rush out at any adult that appeared in the area or that came his way. It took Mr. Ubalki a full ten minutes to calm Baruk and then gather all of the children. After returning the children to camp, he let the paternal figures take over in the care of their young ones.

The airlock hatchway doors, that were on his son's and oldest grandson's ships, had latched shut after his son and oldest grandson approached them with their sons. Duru actually had to get his wife to undo all of the wiring that went to his ship's airlock doors to get into his ship while Kuruk demolished the airlock doors that were on his ship. Both of the radiation alarms on the two ships went off after the doors shut on his son and grandson for some reason; neither Duru nor Kuruk knew why and neither of them really wanted to know why either. Selik had just been found to have some bruises around his neck; Gaajah's internal bleeding was noted and then treated quickly. Baruk, sadly, wasn't as lucky.

When Baruk returned to camp, he had nearly been unidentifiable; his face was so badly wrecked and he was so badly hysterical... The first thing that Kuruk did, after getting into his ship, was demand for his personal physician to come look after his son. His oldest grandson's personal physician had looked at the wounds before treating them with an antiseptic. He then took a needle and some thread out. Most of the cuts that were on Baruk's face were stitched up; a small percentage were medicated and then bandaged. While Kuruk's personal physician was able to take care of the cuts to Baruk's face, he wasn't able to take care of the situation that was happening in Baruk's mouth.

It looked like a stick of dynamite was set off in Baruk's mouth; whenever the youngster opened his mouth to speak, large globs or trails of blood came out. Before being brought to camp, he lost six teeth. The seventh tooth that he lost was lost after he woke up from a nap some hours later. Baruk was only able to save the first six teeth that fell out of his mouth; the seventh disappeared sometime after he woke up from his nap. While Kuruk's personal physician wasn't able to do anything to Baruk's mouth he was able to keep the rest of Baruk's teeth from falling out. A mouth brace was on the man's person at the time; he put it in Baruk's mouth after he finished stitching Baruk's face up. The piece that was put in Baruk's mouth had done its job almost perfectly; the only hiccup that came from the device was the bleeding—Baruk's mouth had started to bleed after the physician put the device in. The young Lad was pretty upset about that and, of course, over the fact that he would have to take his meals in through a straw for a few days before his father scheduled him a dental appointment.

A man by the name of Dr. Haern Apacorh had seen Baruk about three days after the event that cost the youngster seven of his teeth; the doctor, apparently someone that Kuruk had seen over the years for when he lost one or more of his teeth during a conquest, was able to fix Baruk's mouth up. Most of the teeth that Baruk lost were put back in his mouth via implantation; Baruk was given a false tooth to replace the one that disappeared after he woke up from his nap. Some medication—something that would dull the pain that would be experienced later on, after the novacain wore off—was given to the youngster after the procedure was complete then Baruk and his father were sent on their way. As far as he knew, his great-grandson was still taking his meals in through a straw; the pain that his great-grandson was going through was making it next to impossible for him to eat normally.

Kaasa and Sudir were fine, a little battered and bruised from fighting the humans that were with Bile and Lazeer but fine. Physically, that was. They suffered a mild mental and emotional collapse after seeing their brother's facial injuries. As if all of that wasn't bad enough, Kuruk also had to contend with his wife, who actually had to be sedated after seeing the state of her son. From what he was told, Kuruk actually had to abandon looking after his and Irka's children to go tend his wife. He held his wife down so she wouldn't hurt herself on anything. His personal physician administered the sedative then went to look after Baruk's injuries. While Kuruk was taking his wife to the chamber that they slept in, his personal physician was accessing Baruk's facial injuries.

The physician had to sedate Kaasa and Sudir too. They were that badly traumatized.

"The weather that we've experienced this week goes well with how things are in camp," he thought with a sigh.

From what he was told, it started to snow five days prior to his arrival and it hadn't let up any; the snow that fell on the three days after his arrival was still heavy. It rained for all of the two following days then a scorcher had set in. It was up in the nineties the last two days; the snow melt and the rain water wasn't allowed to evaporate normally. There were cracks in the ground all over the place now, thanks to the two-day heat wave. There was no mud to trap any of the area's local animals in; it was almost like a desert in the Rastatter Rheinaue area. Even the trees were showing signs of defeat.

Dara Dara, the daughter of his oldest grandson, who hitched a ride to the planet with him, had tried to make it to her father's ship on the second of November. He had tried to keep her in his ship but she was stubborn on going out; she had nearly gotten herself lost in the snowstorm that was happening at the time. His great-granddaughter was able to make it to her father's ship on the fourth of November, but she was plenty wet afterwards. The rain had just not let up when she made the trip. She came down with a bad cold afterwards; her mother had taken care of her during that time. Tazir and Cheshire had tried to go out to do a little hunting on the fifth of November; they didn't go far before turning back. Tazir was able to nab an injured Wild Turkey during that hunt; no other hunts were conducted afterwards.

The nighttime temperatures, during the last two days, were a great surprise to him. He had expected for the temperatures to drop after the sun went down in his area; while they had, they hadn't gone down by much. It was in the high-seventies last night and, from what the human weather experts were saying, that same temperature was expected to happen tonight. The cooling system that was put in his ship had been put to use a lot in the last two days; he was constantly checking it to see if it was working correctly or if anything amiss was going on with it.

"It still ninety-two degrees outside?" he asked one of the maids, who had just walked into the room that he was in.

"No sir," the maid, a goat-like being, who had long, silky, gray fur and black, cloven hooves, replied quickly. "It dropped a degree a little under thirty minutes ago."

He stood up from the dark red arm chair, that had a high gloss frame, then stretched his arms towards the ceiling. After hearing the crack of his bones, he placed his arms down then moved off. The room that he was exiting was nothing special; just his version of a basic living room that had the essential items like a vintage, genuine black leather, chesterfield couch and loveseat. A dark gray vintage coffee table sat between those two items. A small stone fireplace was to the left of those three items. The chair, that he was sitting in, was placed at the room's far right side; a dark gray, tree stump designed side table sat beside it. Other than the goblet, it had a silver lamp, that had a white lampshade, on it.

The one-drawer cabinet, that the office file was put in, was made of good quality pine wood that was given a dark red paint-job; the cabinet's trimming was painted a dark silver color that was right shiny. The cabinet was placed in the far right corner of the room. There was a compilation photograph above the cabinet that had all of his children on it. He stared at the photograph for just a second before looking away; he didn't need to be reminded of the fact that, out of his having twenty-five children with his three chosen partners, only three had survived being born and he also didn't need to be told that, of his three offspring that survived being born, only one was still alive. The photograph that was beside the compilation one was of he and his still-living child—Duru. Duru was a blessing; after losing so many sons, he had finally be able to bring forth one male child to reek havoc on the Universe and look here, that male child had gone and made so many offspring of his own. The Surfeit line was saved through his and Duru's efforts; if Duru wasn't born alive, and if Duru hadn't gone on to marry and then start a family of his own, his side of the Surfeit line would of gone extinct.

He left the room that had dark red walls, a dark red ceiling, and a dark red carpet quickly. He didn't even stop to look at the ruby-eyed dragon statues that were at the room's entrance. He left the room then went down the hallway that the room was on; he stopped only once after reaching his ship's airlock doors then took a step forward. The airlock doors swung open; a gust of hot air blew into his face as he exited his ship. When the airlock doors closed behind him, he was treated to feeling a cool blast of air swipe up against his backside. He went down his ship's ramp quickly then made his way towards Tazir's ship. As he walked along, he took note of how quiet and still it was. He also took in the smell of things baking in the heat as he went along.

"That Trob-guy comes here and the snow-covered ground cracks open. Shaam comes here and we get snow, rain, and hot temperatures." a rather sweaty and agitated Phaggo said.

"Shhh, Phaggo. Remember what dad told you a few days ago—talk low and be careful of what you say." Blaiga said back quickly.

"Who's going to hear me? There's just you, me, and two of Tazir's staff out. Everyone else is being smart in staying inside." Phaggo shot.

They were the only ones to come outside; Eshal wanted to stay inside, where the air was cooler and more comfortable, and their mother had said no on their younger siblings coming out. Even Efagti and Amadh, their older brothers, had refused to come out; they were only allowed to leave the ship after agreeing to take two bottles of water with them and after promising to return to the ship after being out for thirty minutes. They had only been out for fifteen of them thirty minutes; Phaggo was already letting the heat get to him and she was worried that both she, he, and the two staff members that worked for their older half-brother would get more than a little sun-burned.

Phaggo, who came out wearing a dark blue, long sleeve, button down shirt, was now sans his shirt. His narrow chest was slick with sweat and he was breathing rather heavily. One of his two water bottles was emptied rather quickly; the other was half-full. She had a bottle and a half of water on her; she was trying her best to keep in the shadows and she was also trying to not move much. While she wasn't as hot as Phaggo was, and while she wasn't as agitated as Phaggo was, she did think that it was time to go in. It was rather hot out, after all. The two staff members that were out and about, Eldass Zultoa and a fellow named Abevo Speelin, were coming in; the pits of Mr. Speelin's tuxedo jacket were dark and Mr. Zultoa's face and hair were wet. Mr. Speelin and Mr. Zultoa had only gone out to check on the Solarized Crystal Lights. They were being smart in heading in. She and her brother were not being smart in staying out.

There was another issue that was concerning her too and it had nothing to do with the weather. It had to deal with how her brother had acted all that week. Phaggo had broke one of their father's orders after their father told him to not only stay where he was but to also keep everyone that was in their group where they were until he got to their location. Phaggo wasn't able to adhere to that order; after Eshal saw that dark-skinned fellow lunge at Bile, she, along with everyone else that was in their group, ran out from behind the dead blueberry bushes that they were standing behind. Eshal had yelled at Baruk and Gaajah to distract the dark-skinned fellow; Baruk had come back saying _with pleasure_. The rest of what happened was slightly blurry to her.

She remembered Eshal reaching Bile, and she remembered Lazeer taking off like a rocket after she came towards him, and she also remembered that Phaggo, Kaasa, and Sudir were attacked by the humans that were with Bile and Lazeer, but she couldn't really remember what happened between Baruk, Gaajah, and Selik and that dark-skinned fellow that they were trying to subdue. Regardless of Lazeer's facial injury, he was fast; he used his powers to keep her from catching him the entire time that she was chasing him. She wasn't able to keep up, much less grab a-hold of him. After he gave her the slip, he ran over to Bile, who, for some odd reason, was either holding or hugging the dark-skinned fellow that Baruk, Gaajah, and Selik were trying to subdue. She wasn't able to get to them. Something in the snow had made her trip up. Bile had teleported him, Lazeer, the four humans, and the dark-skinned person to some other location after she tripped and fell to the snow.

Her father had shown up five minutes later and, yes, like he said in the report that her older, half-brother had made up, he arrived to an area that looked similar to a battlefield. After taking everything in, he yelled for her and her brother. They went to him with their tails firmly tucked between their legs. Both of them knew that they were in trouble; before either of them could get to their father, Baruk rushed up. He knocked them to the side then nearly knocked their father over after getting to him. Their father, after seeing Baruk's facial injuries, had called everyone over. He teleported them to camp then he called Baruk's father over. Their father was momentarily distracted from them for all of fifteen minutes; it was only after Baruk's, Sudir's, and Kaasa's, Gaajah's and Selik's, and Eshal's fathers came to claim them that he turned his attention towards them.

After being checked over by a doctor, Phaggo was grabbed and then taken to the side by their father for a little chat. Their father wasn't very happy with how her brother had conducted himself at the reserve and he had let that known loud and clear. After giving her brother a good yelling, he gave out a punishment of two weeks grounding time, which her brother had tried to weasel his way out of almost at once.

The first thing that Phaggo tried to do in weaseling his way out of his punishment was show the photograph that the camera attachment on his binocular set had taken of Lazeer; he had gotten the photograph developed himself then he took it to their father and Tazir. He was embarrassed afterwards. Instead of giving her brother a pat on the back, or telling him good job, your off the hook, their father scolded him again—this time in front of someone. The binoculars were confiscated afterwards. Phaggo's pride had taken a serious beating on that day; while she did feel sorry for her brother she did wish that he'd get over it. One week of his two-week grounding had already gone by—he'd be free to do as he wanted in another week... if he stayed good, and remained on their parents' good side, that was. And, besides, he had gotten off easy on this two-week grounding—if they were at home, he would of been given extra chores to do around the farm and house.

He'd of had to pick or tend the produce. Milk or bring in the cows. Muck the horse's stalls or the cow barn. Take inventory of what was in the family pantry. He might of also been given the chore of cutting down some of the trees that were on their property—her father had already gotten ten of them thirty trees down; there were still twenty left to go before a new pasture or paddock could be built. Instead of having to do all of that, he had just been told to sit in his chamber; no tv, no music, no reading, no going out to join in the other children's fun, no desserts after suppertime, no doing nothing for two weeks.

The only reason to why Phaggo was allowed to leave the ship was because nothing was going on outside; there were no children playing or goofing around and there was nothing to do. All he and she could do was stand around, sweat, and maybe complain or moan about the weather.

"Mr. Zultoa, Mr. Speelin," Blaiga said after Eldass Zultoa and Abevo Speelin started walking up the ramp that led up to the airlock hatchway doors that were on her older, half-brother's ship.

"Blaiga, Phaggo," Eldass Zultoa returned.

"The lights alright?" Blaiga asked.

"Yes, working fine." Abevo Speelin, a light brown-skinned, green-eyed, brown-haired, burly Goblin, who stood four foot, ten inches, replied

"The heat we've experienced the last two days has our employer worried that the lights aren't working as efficiently as they should." Eldass said. "Working fine, nothing wrong with them."

"Wouldn't say that—their nighttime friends haven't been paying them any visits the last two nights." Abevo said back.

The older of the two Goblins laughed at what his co-worker said then went up the ramp; Abevo lingered for just a bit to remind them to come in and soon then he followed his co-worker into the ship. Blaiga played with the water bottle that was half full for a short minute and a half before deciding to head in herself. She had just started making her way up the ramp when movement caught the corner of her eye. She stopped then turned halfway to the side; she wasn't very sure of what she was seeing because of the heat waves that were distorting the scenery around her. She thought she saw someone walking towards her, her brother, and the ship that was behind her. Someone dressed in either red or green and someone that was rather tall; when the heat wave grew in size, the image became so distorted that she couldn't tell what was green or red or if the being was tall or short. She stared at the heat-distorted mass for thirty seconds before turning and then slowly making her way back down the ramp. The heat-distorted image cleared up right when she stepped off the ramp. Blaiga sighed as ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit walked towards her and her brother; when he was two feet from her, she politely stepped out of the way.

"Mr. Surfeit," Blaiga said after the man stopped in front of her.

"Lass," Mr. Surfeit said in return. "You and the Lad behind you wouldn't by any chance be the Ubalki children would you?"

"Uh-huh," Blaiga nodded her head.

"Thought so. You two look hot, maybe you should think about heading in."

"We was just... I mean, I was just heading there." Blaiga said quickly. She had very nearly tripped over her own words.

"Maybe you both should head in," Mr. Surfeit said, this time in a more stern-sounding voice. "It's much too hot out here for you two."

If her father was there, she would of been more confident. More assertive of staying outside. But, since this man towered over her by more than a foot, and since she was rather hot, she obeyed him with no lip. Phaggo, who was taller than her, and who was also much more agitated than her, put up a mild front on wanting to stay outside then, after a minute of back and forth chatter, he followed behind her. The man who came out from the heat waves followed behind them. Blaiga felt a cold shiver roll down her spine at how close he was; her mind did cartwheels over what all the man could do to her and her brother if they didn't obey him.

The man that was walking behind her was a giant. Period. He stood six foot, six inches and his body matched that height perfectly. The man, ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, was built much like an upside down top—his top half was big and muscular while, from the waist on down, he was more "slender". His arms were thick with muscle, as was his chest, which was barrel-shaped. The left side of his face and body was carmine pink while the right side of his face and body was a maroon color. His elongated ears ran the entire length of his shoulders; along with being a burgundy color, they had either four or five black, Tiger-like stripes on them. Mr. Surfeit's eyes were a glowing white color; there were tiny, red pupils in their centers. The fingernails that came out from each of the man's fingers were a maroon-color; they were filed to a mildly sharp point.

The man was, indeed, wearing a green outfit. His walk from his ship to her brother's had made his clothing wet with sweat in places so his clothing did have a two-tone look to it. The dark green jacket, that had gold hems and pockets, and that went down to the ground on the left side while stopping at the waist on the right side, had sweaty patches on the armpit and chest areas; the dark green vest, that had plain green ties on it, was over a long sleeve, white shirt that had gold buttons going down the front. There were a few sweaty areas on the shirt; the vest was dry. The man's knee-long, dark green pants had dull gold buttons going down the sides. The pair of slacks, that the man was wearing, went into a pair of brown suede boots that's tops were pulled down. There was a gold chain running out from the man's left jacket pocket. It ran up to his vest's right pocket. There was a four inch long silver chain that had a gold and silver triangular-shaped adornment on one of its ends hanging from his left elongated ear; the ear-piece shone rather brightly in the glare of the sun.

How the man had managed to get as far as her brother's ship without sustaining some sort of heat stroke was beyond her—everything that he was wearing was like a heat absorbent; not to mention, it all looked quite heavy. While she wouldn't admit it to anyone, she was mostly afraid of the man's size and height. A man as big as the one behind her could do a lot of damage to one her age and size. One her age and size could well be killed or horribly crippled by a man like the one walking behind her.

"That's better," ShaamVile said after entering his grandson's ship. A blast a cool air had blown in his face after the airlock hatchway doors opened; it seemed that the blast of cool air had wrapped itself around him afterwards. ShaamVile looked at the two kids that he escorted into the ship after he got over the temperature deference. "Bet you two are thinking the same as I, much cooler in here. Must be—"

"I don't care for your excuses, all I know is that he looks like you and—" a feminine voice said from down the hall.

"So what if he looks like me, you seen others of my species? We all look related, Woman!" a brittle and near disembodied voice said back.

"That's the biggest excuse in the book!" the feminine voice nearly yelled back.

"It's a fact, you can leave it or accept it." the other voice said back.

"Get out of here! I don't want to see your cheating face anymore today."

"I never cheated on you!"

"The proof—"

"There is no proof!"

"Great, you hustle us back in just so we can listen to one of their fights." Phaggo snorted. He trudged off before Blaiga or Shaam could say anything back.

It was the heat, he told himself, after the two Ubalki children went off. The heat had gotten to the Ubalki boy and had caused him to be a little more rude than usual; he'd be fine after getting a little something cold down his throat and after spending a little time in this cool ship. After the two Ubalki children walked off, he went down the hall. Towards the sound of the fight that was still going on down the hall. He wondered why the two that were fighting were fighting and he wondered what they were fighting about. From the sounds of things, not only was there a male and a female present in this fight but it also sounded like there was some sort of marital strife going on where the husband was trying to speak halfway rationally while the wife didn't want to speak or hear anything rational.

He went through many of those types of fights with his spouses; he had experienced the fights where the male slept either in a different room or on the couch for a while and he had also experienced the fights were the female got a little physical with the male partner. While this fight didn't sound like the latter, it already sounded like the couple wasn't sleeping together. The female was adamant about the male leaving and the male was adamant about staying to work out their issues. He had just gotten within good hearing distance when he heard the sound of glass breaking. He stopped right when his thirdborn grandson's mother, Ashaklar Ubalki, née Zoopray, ran into view. She ran down the hallway, towards him, then she turned and went into the room where, he presumed, the fight between the warring couple was happening.

"Tula! Rubacon! You two think you can yell or shout any louder?" Ashaklar asked after entering the room.

"My deepest, heart-felt, apologies." the female being, who he now knew was one of his great-granddaughters, said back.

"Was just leaving," the male being said.

When the male being walked out of the room he found himself understanding the reason for the fight; the pair that was fighting had, indeed, been husband and wife and one of the two was, indeed, related to him. Rubacon Iovides had married his great-granddaughter, Tula, forty-five thousand years ago; they seemed like a very nice match and they did seem to love each other. He wondered why they were fighting so fiercely for only a second before the reason came into focus.

Rubacon Iovides was a full-blooded Blakobi being; his skin was just as black as night and his eyes matched that. The crests, that were above his eyes, were yellow while the fingernails, that came out from the ends of his fingers, were red. He was wearing a dark blue t-shirt over a pair of blue pants; the shoes, that were on his feet, were normal, everyday, ones. After he exited the room that he and his wife had just fought in, Rubacon turned to look at him. The man stared at him for a few seconds before turning; he went down the hall quietly afterwards. He stared at the spot where the man had once stood before walking forward. He had just gotten to the room that Rubacon and his wife were fighting in when Ashaklar walked out.

"Hello Shaam," Ashaklar said politely. "I apologize that you had to hear that," she closed the door to the room. When he took a step towards the door, that she just closed, she moved to block his path. "I wouldn't go in there right now if I were you. Tula's right upset—she needs some time to herself."

"How long have they been fighting?" he asked.

"Over a month now," Ashaklar replied.

And, from the tired look that was on Ashaklar's face, it looked like their fighting was getting steadily worse. While he didn't know the root cause for Tula's and Rubacon's fighting he had a feeling that it was centered around the dark-skinned fellow that was seen with Bile and Lazeer last week; when Rubacon came out from the room that he and his wife were fighting in he had automatically started comparing him to the rouge male that was seen with Bile and Lazeer. Except for the rouge male's eyes and body-build, the two did look a-like. It was a shame; it did seem that Rubacon's wife had discovered a little something dark in Rubacon's past that her husband was trying to keep masked. How he wished for the good ol' days, where a husband kept it in his pants. Nowadays, it seemed that certain husbands wagged or showed it to any old broad that either gave him a passing glance or that walked by.

Granted, it was hard, but he kept his in his pants when he had a partner at home; why the people of this current age were letting theirs show was beyond him. He would think that someone as old as Rubacon would know the consequences of letting his reproductive urges control him.

"You look rather hot, Mr. Surfeit." Ashaklar said, jarring him out of his thoughts.

"Pardon?" ShaamVile said back.

"You look like you need a drink—you look rather heat-worn to me." Ashaklar said.

"I could use something to drink, yes." he returned. He followed Ashaklar down the hallway quietly for a bit before deciding to ask her one of the questions that had been nagging him for the last few days. "Tazir hasn't done an in-depth search of this part of the country for his sons, right?"

"Right," Ashaklar replied. "He's only been in the shields twice; the first time, he just went in to look at the last known whereabouts of his sons. The second time he went in, he took my husband, Kuruk, Qeeta, Eldass, and Zshon and a small pack of MoHunds with him."

"He hasn't gone into the shields since?"

"No,"

"You know why? Seems strange that, after he had that brief contact with his sons, he'd not do a deeper search for them or—"

"Things in camp have kept him from being able to conduct more searches in the shields." Ashaklar replied quickly.

While he wouldn't say it out loud, he did think that her response, and the one that she said afterwards, about Tazir not wanting to create more stress or injury to his sons, as nothing more than an excuse. As he saw it, the young Lads were going to get even more injured if they were allowed to go about without parental guidance or protection. This wasn't like last year. Last year, the Lads had their mother with them; with their mother's whereabouts not being known, it was very unwise to be patient or to just sit in-wait for a sighting. If Tazir's theory of his sons being out there, baching it out on their own, was true, then that meant that they should act and fast before any other injuries—possibly life-threatening or near life-threatening ones—happened. While Angel claimed to of trained her sons well in both their powers and in the sport of hunting he didn't think that her sons had the experience of how to conserve energy while toting around injuries—a grown man could go by his way while toting certain injuries to his body just fine; a mid-teenage boy, who didn't know how to limit his movements or how to conserve energy, wouldn't.

Injuries put certain stresses on a body. While the body was working to heal itself, and to keep infections from happening, it was also working to keep itself going. Injuries like the ones that Bile, Lhaklar, and Lazeer had had a tendency to grow infectious and that wasn't what the young Lads needed. They needed to be found, they needed to be brought back to camp, then they needed their injuries tended; Tazir had already mentioned in his report that Lhaklar and Hazaar had looked a bit underweight—that could mean that their injuries were making their bodies work overtime and it could also mean that their injuries were keeping them from conducting a good hunt. Time was of the essence right now; his grandson didn't need to be sitting in-wait for another sighting of his sons. He needed to get it in gear and fast.

"That guy that was seen with Bile and Lazeer last week, has he been seen with the Lads any prior to last week's sighting and the sighting at the fair that Tazir went to?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation going with Ashaklar.

"Seen by us? No. Seen by someone else, yes." Ashaklar replied. She then stopped; after stopping, she turned to face him. "Before we came here, we knew nothing of what was going on. My son found out all of what we know after using his Telepathic skills on the man that saw the boys in August."

"And..."

"He was seen on the eighteenth of August with Lhaklar and then again on August the twenty-sixth with Bile and Hazaar." Ashaklar replied. "From what my son was able to make out, the guy wasn't acting in any way aggressive with the boys then."

"Quite possibly, there was nothing going on to evoke the guy's violent tendencies? What was he doing with the Lads on them two days?"

"Nothing but walking with Lhaklar on the eighteenth," Ashaklar replied. "The memory that my son reviewed of the guy with Bile and Hazaar showed him doing nothing more than sifting through useless junk in a dump."

"In a what?"

"We don't know where they were seen but Bile, Hazaar, and that dark-skinned guy were seen at a dump on the twenty-sixth of August. The memory that my son reviewed showed them doing nothing more than looking through the dump's many piles of junk."

"No sight of injury on them on them two days?" he asked.

"No, they looked healthy. They practically looked the same way they had when they left my son's place in January."

Since it was already noted in the report that he was given a week ago that Angel hadn't been seen since May of that year, he didn't ask if she was seen anywhere near the boys when the dark-skinned being was in their company on them two August sightings; he found this new piece of information puzzling. From the get-go, he had seen that dark-skinned being as dangerous; now he was being told that he was seen as not harming the Lads when they were in his company and that, a month and four days prior to his grandson's arrival to the planet, the Lads had looked in good health. How was that? Did something happen to spark the dark fellow's violence or was it the simple fact that the dude was trying to keep the Lads from going to their father by asserting his dominance over them or hurting them so that they couldn't go but so far without stopping to rest?

He and Ashaklar spoke no more; she just nodded her head then started leading him down the purple carpeted hallway that had either gold or silver or normal-colored framed bats on its brown-colored walls. The ceiling that was above his head was the same color as the walls; a narrow, yellow beam ran down its center. It lit the hallway from one end to the other rather brightly.

They passed by Rubacon, who was having a rather heated conversation with someone on the phone about the fight that he and his wife had just gotten through having, then, a few paces down from him, they passed by the room that his grandson had set to the side for his employees. The room had four Goblins in it; Yhozah Zultoa, who's left ear had a piece of gauze taped to it, Homsi Modulavich, who's right hand wasn't as heavily bandaged as it was the week before, but who was now sporting a piece of taped gauze to his right ear, and Ulok and Olok Gzujus, who had no injuries on their persons. He gave the room and the four men that were in it a passing glance then went on his way. The four Goblins that were in the room never noticed him.

It took them all of five minutes to reach the kitchen area of his grandson's ship which, admittingly, had one occupant. Ashaklar said hello to her husband, who was sitting at the brown-wood kitchen table, eating what looked like a grilled tuna on rye sandwich, then she went to the silver chrome refrigerator that was placed at the far end of the room. She pulled the refrigerator door open then bent down. He jerked slightly, after noticing that her bottom-end was sticking out, then looked away, which proved to be more than a good decision on his part, because Cheshire automatically cleared his throat then stood up. Ashaklar's top half was gone for only a second or two; when she stood up straight, she had a glass pitcher in her hand. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet that was to the right of the fridge then she poured him a yellow drink that had a heavy scent of peaches in it. After pouring him his drink, she gave him the glass then left the room in a hurry; he had no chance to tell her that she shouldn't worry about her two, young children still being outside in the heat.

"Fine wife you got there," he said. He looked at the drink that he was given for a second before bringing it to his lips; he chugged the yellow, peach-smelling drink in three swallowfuls then walked the empty glass to the sink.

"Yes, indeed." Cheshire said. After his wife left the room, he sat back in the chair that he was sitting in before he walked into the room. He picked at the crust of his sandwich for a second before picking the sandwich up. "Been married a while now. Got eight kids together."

"Phaggo and Blaiga you two's youngests?"

"No, that'd be Defe and Qhuakiz." Cheshire replied. He snapped a bite from his sandwich then started chewing. He swallowed afterwards.

"Phaggo and Blaiga came in at the same time that I did," he said.

"Good to hear. Told 'em that they could only go out for thirty minutes. Hot out there; not the best of weather for a kid to be going out in."

Cheshire's distance meant only one thing—he was on guard after witnessing first-hand another man looking at the goods, meaning his wife. While he didn't know Cheshire Ubalki very well—the man was a commoner who eked out a living on farming and mining—he knew that he was a decent man and he also knew that he was rather patient. His libido—his action of taking notice of Ashaklar's rear end being in stuck out—had triggered a reaction out of Cheshire; Cheshire was regarding him warily and distantly now. He was making his sentences short and he was making sure to claim his wife as his by not only mentioning how many kids he had with her but by also mentioning that he and she had been married for a long time. He and Cheshire said nothing else to one another after that brief conversation. The man went back to studying and then gnawing on his sandwich; he left the room then went down the hallway that led to the very room that he had exited. He decided that he had spent enough time in his grandson's ship. He decided to leave the ship then either go to his own ship or take a little trip to where his son's ship was; it had been a while since he had seen his three grandchildren and he was concerned about them.

He left Tazir's ship quickly; the hot air made him stop for just a second, then he turned and went towards the heat-warped image of his son's ship. As he went towards his son's ship he couldn't help but smile; while his libido had gotten him into a little bit of hot water with Cheshire Ubalki his smarts had gotten him out of a possible problem where a verbal and then a possible physical fight would of happened. Men, even the most patient and understanding types, had buttons that could be pressed and even the nicest, most patient and understanding man could turn red after seeing a possible threat approach his spouse. Cheshire Ubalki would probably be wary of him for a week before taming down, he was sure of that; while Cheshire Ubalki's wife had a decent body, she wasn't what he'd call "bed-worthy". She was worth maybe a passing glance; like with the Goblin that he let in his ship seven days ago, he had no sexual interest in Ashaklar. It was just the simple fact that she stuck her ass in the air that had gotten his attention. Any other man would of done the same as he in jumping and then looking away.

He had just given his head a brisk shake when he noticed that he was within seeing distance of his son's ship. There was quite a lot of steam coming out from the many cracks that were in the area; he sighed when he saw that the area surrounding his son's ship was void of activity. Duru, he knew, wouldn't of gone out in this heat for anything unless it was serious and, as far as he knew, nothing serious was going on at the moment. That went double for Duru's family; Duru wouldn't let any of them venture out in heat like this for anything unless it was serious. Duru was a smart boy and he looked after his own very well, he was very proud of him. He quickened his pace a little after he saw his son's non-heat warped ship; it took him nearly five minutes to reach and then be allowed to enter the ship afterwards.


	28. Chapter 28

After being in a cool, air-conditioned building for seven hours, he really wasn't ready or prepared for the too-warm breeze that was blowing outside. After he finished teleporting home, he found himself momentarily stunned; his body had grown accustomed to the cool temperature that was maintained in the building that he had just left so it took him a little while to adjust to the warm weather that was greeting the new day of November the 8th.

He stood motionless beside the house that his mother and siblings were all sleeping in for a minute or two before jabbing his arms down. A pillar of hard ground rose up underneath his feet; it propelled him up to his bedroom window. As he flew through the warm air, he raised his arms so that, when his forward motion was complete, he wouldn't just hit or bounce off the side of the house. He grabbed the exterior window sill, that was on the outside of his bedroom, then he pulled himself up after his forward motion carried him halfway up the house; he left his bedroom window unlocked, like he always did when he went off to work, so he wouldn't have to worry about breaking the window to get into his bedroom or waking anyone up. He pushed his bedroom window open then pulled himself into the house quickly.

Unlike the events of what happened on the 29th of August, when he woke his family up by running into his bedroom door after coming home from work, this entrance was done more quietly and no one was woke up. He used his arms to pull himself only halfway into his bedroom then he used his legs to finish the job; he turned, then closed his bedroom window quickly, after he had gotten into the house, then he walked across his bedroom to the door. He removed his tan-colored, long sleeve, button down shirt slowly then he shoved it under the door; now that he had made it possible for any and all light to not be seen coming from his room, he stood up. He threw the switch, that was to the left of his bedroom door, up then he finished the rest of his Saturday-morning routine.

This was the routine that he did every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday morning; he'd go to work at 11 p.m., he'd dance his socks of—literally—, then he'd head home at around seven o'clock. He'd make a ground pillar shoot up from beneath his feet after appearing next to the house that he and his family had picked to live in then he'd pull himself into his bedroom then, after he closed, and then locked, the room's window, he'd remove his shirt so he could shove it under his bedroom door, so no light would betray his being up. Afterwards, he'd finish his undressing; he'd put on his night-clothes, then shut the light off, then take his shirt out from under the door, then jump into bed. He'd pull a front on being asleep; after Bile's clock went off, he'd get up, get dressed, then do his usual in the bathroom before going down to join the family for breakfast. He'd go back to his bedroom after his mother left to go to work for a three or four hour nap afterwards.

He wasn't very confident about his work schedule and this after-work routine working out at first; he had worried himself to a near frazzle for nearly two weeks on this routine. He had worried about his mother coming into his room at some time in the night to check on him only to find him missing, or he had worried about his mother coming into his room before Bile's alarm went off to find him undressing after coming home from work. So far, his worrying had been for nothing; he had studied his mother's habits the last few months—it seemed that, unless one of his brothers was sick, she stayed in bed after they all bid themselves goodnight. She didn't get up to use the toilet, she didn't get up to check on any of them, and she didn't go down to get a drink after she went to bed. Once her head hit the pillow, she was out. Unless the weather was bad, and she needed to get up to beat the weather to get to work on time, she slept until 7:45 a.m.; after she got up, she got dressed, then did her morning routine in the bathroom, before going down to get breakfast started. If one of his brothers was sick, she'd make a pit-stop to check on him, but she'd not bother the other, healthy, not-sick boys.

He took his wallet and his house keys out from the pockets that he put them in last night then he removed his brown shoes and socks and then his black, corduroy pants; he left his shoes, socks, and pants on the floor, by the foot of his bed, then he went to his bed. His folded pajama bottoms were placed on his pillow before he left for work; all he had to do now was grab and then throw them on. He did that quickly then he sat down on his bed. He was exhausted, and he had a good reason to be—he had worked his ass off! He had done a lot of dancing. He was a little agitated over what he had made. Normally, he'd bring home between €250 and €325; he had found himself barely bringing home €190 this morning. He had danced on one of the stages, and in one of the cages that his workplace reserved for the more experienced dancers, last night and yet, here he was, bringing home a measly €188.85.

"Don't think or worry much of it man," one of his fellow dancers, a man by the name of Anton Fashingbauer, said after he noticed him looking rather glum after he did a count-up of what he made that night. "The weather's been making our regulars stay home the last few weeks; we'll make a come-back when the weather stops being so menopausely."

It had started to get rough right after that eight-day snow-spell started. People were staying at home; very few were traveling to the dancer joints—the ones who made it to the dancer joints had little to give to the dancers that they were watching. Two women had actually been thrown out of his workplace on the twenty-eighth of October for doing nothing more than watching the dancers; they threw one or two five euro notes then they sat and did nothing more than watch the dancers that were dancing. One of the daytime bouncers had hauled them out of the establishment after it was noted that they weren't paying homeage to the dancers. From what he was told, the two women were in the building for nearly three hours before being thrown out. Another woman was thrown out for excessive drinking that caused her to become a little violent two days later.

No other throw-outs had happened. There had hardly been anyone to throw out afterwards. It was either the snow, the rain, or the hot weather that was keeping people home or his workplace's regulars had come down with the flu that was going around.

"The other clubs are experiencing the same thing." Anton Fashingbauer had said. "It's just a drought, that's all. You watch, once everyone gets over their bugs, and once the weather clears up a bit, we'll have a full house and that wallet of yours will be bursting from the seams."

"You're a bit too optimistic, Anton." Kristof Rothbauer, another of his fellow dancers, said. "It's been over a month since the weather went crazy-town on us—I see our dancer-money-blues continuing for a while."

"I suspect it's them people in that Rastatter Rheinaue camp that caused all the problems with the weather," another of his fellow dancers, a man by the name of Rémy De Sauveterre, had chimed in. "Why our country can't do something about eradicating them, or evicting them from the area, is beyond me. Need to either attack or drive them out; bet the weather would settle down after they're gone."

"Is your mum retired from being our planet's heroine and protector?" one of the night bouncers, a man named Giles Fenstermacher, asked him. "If not, she should get on the stick on giving them people in that camp the boot out of here."

As far as he knew, his mother had never, really, agreed to be the planet's protector and she had said nothing on being retired from helping the planet or the planet's denizens. He hadn't really been able to answer Giles's question; he put his earned money in his wallet then he left the building. That whole conversation had taken place in the back of the building, where the lockers were. He had shown up to work wearing the same clothes that he wore earlier that day; his work-clothes were underneath them so, all he had to do, when it came time for him to dance, was get up on stage and then strip. There were around thirty or so in the building; most of them had paid him for his efforts on the stage, and in the cage. He was starting to get worried about what he was bringing in; the last time he danced at the club, he brought home €202 and, the time before that, he brought home €220. His paycheck was starting to drop; what would happen if he started bringing home less than a hundred euros a night? His mother would start to wonder what was going on and he'd have to make up a lie that she may or may not believe. The bills might not get paid on time, the food pantry might start to look a little shabby, and his mother might not be able to drive to work.

A dry, scratchy cough made him look up. While he couldn't be certain, he thought that the cough had come from his right. From Lazeer's room. He came close to having a complete nervous breakdown on the thirty-first of October; while it was teased by the three or four hailstones that came in through his bedroom window, it was upped after the roar-like explosion happened. It wrapped itself around him after Bile, Guyunis, and Lazeer came home.

He was fast asleep when hailstones sailed through his window. After the hailstones invaded his room, he decided to take refuge under his bed—which was where he stayed all during the storm and the concluding explosion, which was loud enough to make his ears ring.

It took him nearly five minutes to gather the courage to crawl out from under his bed; his room had grown cold in that time and he was shivering like crazy, but he had plain refused to move out from under his bed until after he was sure that the hail had stopped falling. He had seen hail fall before... he had seen it and he had walked through it and he had also gone out and played and acted like a loon in it once or twice. The hail that fell on that day had not been normal; he didn't need a scientist, or an adult, to tell him that. He had seen it and he had heard it; the house had many dents and holes in it from where the hail had struck it. After he gained enough courage to crawl out from his hiding space, he went off to find Hazaar, who was the only one of his brothers at home, with him, at the time. Like he, Hazaar was in his bedroom, but he wasn't hiding under his bed. His brother was staring out of his bedroom window when he walked in to see if he was alright or not. Hazaar had a thing for storms so it was only natural that he found him staring out of a window; his brother's bedroom window had two holes in it from where two hailstones had come in but his brother was fine. A bit shaken up, and confused over what happened, but fine.

The sliding glass patio door, along with all of the house's windows, was broken by the hail. He repaired them with his Elemental Water powers, and with a little bit of his Acidic powers, after checking to see if Hazaar was okay; after doing that, he decided to sit and wait for Bile, Guyunis, and Lazeer to return from where they went that morning. Bile had made plans to go off and snowboard and shoot BB guns with some of his friends and he took Guyunis and Lazeer with him. They had been gone for some time; he hadn't heard a thing from them since their exit of the house.

He had worried about them and he had chided himself for worrying about them all the while he was waiting for them to come home; he had told himself over and over again that Bile would take care of things if anything came up or if anything happened to either he, Guyunis, or Lazeer, or to one of the humans that he, Guyunis, and Lazeer had gone off to snowboard and shoot BB's with. While Bile was known to be a bit of a wild guy, and while he was known to act tough, he was also known to be reliable. He could be counted on to be there when something bad happened, he could be counted on to help out in a situation that was bad or that was going bad, and he could also be counted on when bad weather or events happened. He had just convinced himself that Bile would take care of things if anything happened during the storm when his three brothers walked in. The bit that was holding his nervous breakdown back was released right then and there. He had started to feel its effects after he saw their injuries.

"What happened!" he remember shouting at them after they came in.

They said nothing on what happened. They just walked by him. As far as he could recall, Bile went up to the upstairs bathroom while Lazeer went into the downstairs bathroom. Guyunis, for some peculiar reason, had gone to their mother's bedroom. Guyunis, after collapsing on her bed, had curled himself up in a ball; he would of gone to him, to see what was up, but his attentions had been divided between either himself or Hazaar at the time.

Hazaar had freaked out after their brothers came home; he had found himself grabbing and then holding his brother, who was screaming and asking what happened again and again. While it took Hazaar ten minutes to calm down, it took him hours to get himself together.

What he saw on that day was horrible; he hoped that he'd never have to see anything like it again and he bet his left arm that Hazaar and their mother felt the same way. Lazeer was fine when he left that morning; the left side of his face was bruised and bad-looking, but it wasn't bad enough to keep him home. When Lazeer returned home, the whole left side of his face was badly swollen; there were two cuts above and below the diagonal gash that went across his left eye and the left side of his face was also caked in blood. Guyunis, who had some few-day old cuts and bruises to his face, had come home with several fresh cuts and bruises to the back of his head, to his face, shoulders, chest, and stomach, and he also had some puncture marks to his right arm. He also had some wrap-around burns on his upper body. He lost the feeling in his legs when Lazeer and Guyunis came in; he came close to collapsing after Bile came in. Bile, his oh so cool and tough and wild and reliable older brother, should of really gone to the hospital. He did not look good at all! He looked like he was dipped in blood from the waist down; the crotch of his pants was a soaked, greenish-red mess, as had the left pant leg of his pants. His left knee and shin had also been three times their normal size. Bile had also had several bruises and cuts on his face and ears that he either received from his fight with Guyunis on the twenty-fourth of October or from whatever happened to him on the thirty-first of October; they weren't that bad. He hardly noticed them.

While he got no answer on what happened on that day from his brothers his mother had; his mother, who was forced to take a double-shift at work, had come home to find the house a wreck. She wasn't very happy over that, or over the fact that he and Lazeer were still up. She forgot all about how wrecked the house was, and about his and Lazeer's still being up, after she saw the state of Lazeer's face. A solid scab had formed around Lazeer's left eye some hours after he came home; the entire left side of his youngest brother's face had become very badly swollen, and it had also gone a bruised purple/black color, shortly after he returned home. His poor mother had come close to having a panic attack after she saw that.

She went from being hard to gentle after seeing the state of Lazeer's face; Lazeer was given the rare opportunity of being allowed to smoke inside before being told to go to bed. After telling Lazeer to have a smoke before going to bed, she turned and then told him to go to bed. She went up to check on Bile and Guyunis afterwards—after being told to go to bed, he told her that they came home injured too. While she was concerned about them, she didn't turn on him for not taking charge of things during her absence or for not taking his brothers to the hospital. She went up, she checked on Hazaar, who was wide awake in his room at the time, then she checked on Guyunis, who was still curled up on her bed. After checking on them, she went to check on Bile, who hadn't left the upstairs bathroom since coming home. She stayed with Bile for twenty minutes before coming downstairs; he was in the process of cleaning the sticky kitchen floor at the time. After taking the mop, and then the bucket of soapy water, from him, she ushered him upstairs.

"If it was theoretically possible to call the storm up, to give it a good cursing out, I'd do it." she said the following day, about an hour after she came home with Bile, after she took Bile to see a Urologist. Bile went straight to his room after he was brought home; their mother went to the kitchen to help him with getting the house back in order. "From what your brother told me, he, Guyunis, and Lazeer, and their friends had just gotten through eating lunch when the storm hit. They had no chance to get under something. The hail caused most of their injuries."

He came close to tying his legs up after hearing about the hailstone that struck Bile down between his legs; according to Bile, another hailstone struck him on his injured knee and shin afterwards. He claimed to of not really felt that one—he was too concerned with his groin to worry about his knee and shin at the time. The morning following Bile's trip to the Urologist, a rather ill Guyunis had verified Bile's story on their being in the Au am Rhein nature reserve called the Rottlichwald when the hailstorm happened. He had also verified Bile's story on where he had gotten his burns from.

Bile's story on Guyunis tripping over some downed power lines had sounded far-fetched to not only their mother but to him too; Bile claimed that, after he teleported himself, Guyunis, Lazeer, and his four friends to a street in Au am Rhein called Pappelweg, Guyunis took a step back then tripped then became tangled up in a series of power lines. Bile's story on Guyunis being electrocuted by the power lines had sounded so far-fetched because there were no power poles in Europe, Eurasia, or the island nations of the eastern hemisphere—an underground power network was put into effect a little over two hundred and thirty years ago in them countries. If Hazaar hadn't shown them the newspaper article, that was in their local newspaper, that mentioned something about some damages done to two of the four power poles, that the mayor of Au am Rhein and the city of Karlsruhe had kept up after the power change-over, two days later, they would of called Bile and Guyunis out on that story. They believed what Bile had said after seeing and then reading that article.

The dry, scratchy cough, that he just heard, had come from one of his three sick brothers. Lazeer had come down with what their mother called a mild cold almost overnight; that "mild cold" had turned into the full-blown flu a few hours later. Guyunis had come down with the same illness a day and a half later. Bile had come down with the illness twelve hours after he. He, their mother, and Hazaar had run themselves ragged for four straight days to get them some stuff that would help them get better; while he was able to find his brothers some Orange juice and Granini Apple Juice, he wasn't able to find them any tissues, crackers, or canned soups. He came home on the fifth of November with a nice shiner—a rather tall man had really decked him one after he grabbed the last thing of Granini Apple Juice from the shelf of the local Aldi Market. That, followed by the little old lady, who kicked him in the ass after he snagged the last container of Orange Juice from the same store's orange juice shelf, had made for a rather memorical evening for him. His eye and his ass might of hurt him on the way back but he was happy over finding them two items and his mother was plenty pleased and happy with him for finding them two items too.

The day after he found the Orange Juice and the Granini Apple Juice, his mother went out to give it a try in finding some of the things that he wasn't able to find. She came back with five boxes of tissues and one box of crackers two hours later. None of their trips to the store were successful the day after.

Hazaar was treated as a sort of hero yesterday; he had a rather successful shopping trip when he went out looking for stuff for their brothers. He came home with three boxes of Ritz crackers, two bottles of Robitussin, two packages of cough drops, a box of herbal tea, a bag of apples, a thing of bananas, a bag of baby carrots, and a head of lettuce—naturally, he had also been thinking about his pet turtles when he was out; the bag of baby carrots, the head of lettuce, and the bag of apples had been for his pets. He grabbed the bananas at the last second for his brothers. The hero-crowning happened after he went out to find some boxes of tissues. Hazaar must of fought hard for the ten boxes of tissue paper, and the case of canned soups, that he came home with—his right eye was badly blackened; his wrist was nearly broken; his lower lip was busted all to hell; three of his ribs were broken; and his limp was terribly painful. While their mother was overjoyed with his purchases, and with his going so out of his way for their sick brothers, she had still worried over him. She had hustled him into a bath then had made him stay in bed for the rest of the day.

"Lazeer?" he said after a coughing fit started in the room beside his.

He got up from his bed then crossed his room quickly. He kicked his shirt out from under the door with his foot savagely then practically tore his door back. He went to Lazeer's room as fast as he could; when he pushed the door that went to Lazeer's room open, he noticed that a light was on downstairs. He ignored the light; he went into his brother's room then went straight to his brother, who was nearly sitting up in bed. He didn't bother asking if his brother was okay when he got to him. He just started patting him back. When his brother stopped coughing, he eased him back. He tucked his brother back into bed then left the room; since his brother's throat was so sore, and since his brother couldn't talk, he didn't bother in waiting for a thanks bro. He left the door to his brother's room half-ajar then started down the stairs to see what was going on in the kitchen. He and his mother practically walked into one another two seconds later; it was quite evident that she hadn't only just gotten up but that she was also tired. The fact that her cellular phone was plastered to her right ear didn't settle well with him. When he tried to take it from her, he found himself coldly rebuffed.

"Mom?" he said. He went down the last few steps of the stairs then went into the dining room.

He stretched his arm out when he was withing grabbing distance of his mother; he placed his hand on her arm then slowly turned her around to facing him. "You okay? You look a bit tired and worn-out."

"Probably because I am," his mother snapped at him. She turned her attention to the cellular phone for a second; he blinked his eyes twice when she told the person that she was talking to—an Ajeet-something—to hold on a second then she turned her attention back to him. "Lhakie, I apologize for snapping like that. I didn't have an easy night; your brothers kept me up half the night and I couldn't sleep the other half."

"Maybe you should go back to bed. Get some sleep and all." he said back. He then turned his attention to who she was talking to on the phone. "Who're you talking to, mom?"

"I'll be fine, don't worry about me." his mother replied.

Even though she was tired and sleepy, she didn't just plain ignore his question or his concern for her; she accepted the concern, and she let him voice and show his concern over her, but she plain refused to answer his question of who she was talking to on the phone. Her cellular rang right when he came home. He was pulling himself in through his bedroom window when she snatched her phone up from her bed side table. The man that was on the other end of the phone sounded nice, but she was getting a vibe from him that she didn't much like; after answering the phone, he started in on asking her all sorts of questions about herself, and her family, and on where she and her children were on certain days last month.

"Hello, Miss. Irene? the man said after she answered her cellular phone.

"Yes, who's this?" she asked.

"Ajeet Ballal, I'm the Chief of the Staff of the Federal Armed Forces. President Leinart gave me your number a little over an hour ago, I apologize for calling so early but I need to ask you some questions."

"Can you call me back in a few hours? I was up half the night taking care of my three sick children, who have that bug that's going around. I wasn't able to sleep at all last night." she said.

"I'm afraid that these questions need to be asked and now, Miss. Irene."

She got up, then grabbed and threw a robe around herself, then went to check on her three sick children; while Bile was sweaty from his fever, he was fast asleep and snoring away on his back. She found Guyunis half-on/half-off his bed when she went in to check on him. Lazeer was shivering away under the covers. After she checked on them, she thought about checking on Lhaklar and Hazaar; if Lhaklar knew how close he came to being discovered as being away, he would of started running—she was in the process of wrapping her hand around the door knob of his bedroom door when he was shoving his shirt under the crack that was under the door. Luckily for him, she decided to leave them be at the last second. She went down to the kitchen to get an early start on breakfast at the same time that she was answering her caller's questions. She was just taking a frying pan out from the oven's slide-out compartment when Lazeer started to cough.

She answered this Ajeet Ballal's every question truthfully. She told him the hours that she worked; she told him what Lhaklar's job was, and what days he worked, and how long he was out of the house when he was at work; and she told him that, while she didn't know the full extent of her other children's activities after she left the house to go to work, she was sure that they didn't cause any trouble. One question made her hiss deeply; this one question had made her dislike for the man that was on the other end of the line grow and this one question had made her come close to disconnecting the call.

"You mentioned that you wasn't sure of your other sons' activities after they left the house after you left to go to work, do you think any of them have been leaving the shield to play visitor with anyone that's in that Rastatter Rheinaue camp?" this Ajeet Ballal had asked her. "Or if your oldest son has been playing catch-up with his fader, or if any of them has knowingly or unknowingly brought the ones that are in that Rastatter Rheinaue camp here?"

"My sons are required to ask for my permission before leaving the safety of the shields, and none of them have been in contact with anyone in that camp, or have been in contact with my father." she answered hotly.

"They're required to ask for your permission before leaving the shields?" Ajeet Ballal mused. She imagined him nodding his head with each word of hers that he repeated. "So, they have left the shields?"

"Yes,"  
"When was the last time that they requested permission to leave the shields?"

"In September. It was my two, younger children who asked for permission to leave the shields. I told them that, as long as they behaved themselves, and as long as they came back in one piece, and before curfew, they could." she replied.

"Did they?"

"Yes, a few hours before curfew and in one piece and with a few friends."

"A few friends?"

"Yessir, I won't lie or not mention the fact that they asked to leave the shields to look for some animals to bring back to call their pets." she replied. "Lazeer went to Yunnan—that's in south China—to find some frogs and salamanders on the twenty-fifth of September. He took Hazaar with him. Lazeer went to Spain a few days later. He went alone on that trip."

"Lazeer's your youngest, right?"

"Yes,"

An assault on what her sons owned as pets had happened next; she had just turned to go upstairs, to see to her youngest son, who was having a coughing fit, when he started asking about the animals that Lazeer brought home. What were the animals that her son had brought home, were they dangerous, what other animals resided in her home, and so on and so forth. She had a feeling that Lhaklar was the one to comfort and help Lazeer through his coughing fit. Lazeer stopped coughing right when she started going up the stairs; all the while she was heading to the stairs, she answered Mr. Ballal's questions. She told the man about Guyunis's cat, then about Lazeer's pet salamanders, newts, and frogs, then about Hazaar's turtles, then she asked him if he had any other questions that he wanted to ask her; he politely asked her to calm down. He then asked her is she, herself, had been in any contact with the people that resided in the Rastatter Rheinaue camp. She had just walked into Lhaklar when she was about to answer that question. She answered that question pleasantly then she asked the man again if he had any other questions to ask her. He replied with a no.

"I apologize for jumping in on the questions before explaining what's going on, Miss. Irene, but, trust me, it was necessary. Hope that you'll forgive me; it was either I get to you first, and ask you them questions, or the chief of our security agency does and, trust me, you _did_ want _me_ getting to you first. The chief of our security agency is a bitch, literally." Ajeet Ballal was now saying.

"What's going on?" Angel asked. When she saw that her son was still in the dining room, she turned to him. "Lhakie, be a dear, since your here, and get me the eggs please. You want scrambled or sunny-side up?"

"Sunny-side up please," Lhaklar said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Bit early for your boys to be up isn't it?" Ajeet asked on the phone. "From the sounds of things, one or more of your sons is up over there."

"My secondborn," Angel replied. "It's a bit early for all of us but, since he and I are up, I don't see any problem in getting started on the day. I'll just make something for my other boys then put it in the microwave or in the fridge; they can heat it up after they get up."

"I see." Ajeet said. When he went quiet, she thought that he had hung up. She was about to press the hang-up button that was on her cellular phone when he started talking again. "A meeting was held just three hours ago on that camp that's in the Rastatter Rheinaue reserve; all of this country's top-dogs were there, including the president. A lot of photographs were shown, the facts on three highly expensive drones being shot down or captured were brought up, and the fact that you and your family are related to the people that are in that camp was also brought up. While most of us agreed that you and your family had no involvement in their being here there were a select few—the chief of our security agency, for example—that said otherwise. The chief of our security agency wanted you all detained—taken in—and then questioned and then removed to a more security-level residence where you would all be monitored and possibly separated—"

"Separated? You best tell your security chief that he or she is barking up the wrong alley if the consideration of separating me from my boys is given the green light." Angel snapped. Lhaklar very nearly dropped the three eggs that he had just taken from the egg carton.

 _"You got a damn problem on your hands if you plan on separating me and my brothers from our mother!"_ Lhaklar roared.

"Please, Miss. Irene, calm yourself and your son down. None of you are being detained or moved or removed from one another. I promise you that." Ajeet said quickly. "Stefan was rather adamant that none of you be bothered and that none of you be separated. He seems right fond of you folks—think we all noticed that at the meeting. He can be a nice man at times but he can also be a meanie; he might not be a red head but he has a temper and he sure showed it at that meeting. Before the meeting concluded, the chief of our security agency said that she—the chief of our security agency is a woman, ma'am—was going to contact you and soon to ask you a few questions; Stefan gave me your number after the meeting concluded. He told me to get in contact with you and fast—before the chief of our security agency, meaning—which I did."

"I kinda want to get off the phone now, sir." Angel said.

"I understand, I've upset you." Ajeet said. "Have a nice morning and a pleasant day, Miss. Irene, it was very nice talking to you."

The rest of that morning went by like a blur for him; he remembered toying with his breakfast—which consisted of two, sunny-side up eggs, a pancake, and two pieces of sausage—for ten minutes and he also remembered eating his breakfast slowly afterwards. After finishing his breakfast, he washed the dishes that he used then went to tell his mother that he was heading back up to his room for another hour or two of sleep. His mother told him to not worry about sleeping in; she had seen how tired he was. She wanted him to get in a few more hours of sleep before starting in on what he wanted to do with that day. He slept for maybe an hour before getting up; his hour-long sleep was plagued with nightmares of the terrible sort—that Ajeet-person that his mother had talked to earlier, and about forty or so others, had come to his family's house in the dead of night; he and his family were shackled and then marched out to two army vans that were waiting for them out by the curb by their house. They were taken to a top-secret military facility; they were questioned as a family, then they were questioned separately, then they were put in a room for a few hours. After them few hours passed, a group of scientists came into the room; they were separated from one another afterwards. He woke up in a cold sweat after the scientist that was in charge of him started a barrage of tests on him.

He took a hot shower afterwards, then got dressed in some fresh clothes, then went downstairs to the living room; he found his mother on the phone with some lady named Bettina Gottlieb at the time. They were having a rather heated conversation. His mother was practically hissing and snarling at the woman and the woman was hissing and snarling right back. His mother called Mr. Leinart right after she and Bettina Gottlieb had their little conversation; another semi-heated conversation had followed between them two. Mr. Leinart had apparently been up all night; he was exhausted and he had just gotten home. The conversation that they were having was so loud that he was able to hear it from the kitchen. The conversation ended after his mother threatened to move them out of the country if the harassment and the verbal threats that were being made towards them didn't stop.

Their mother's and Mr. Leinart's semi-heated conversation was so loud that it woke his brothers up; when they came down to see what was going on, he noticed that only Hazaar had bothered to get dressed. Bile, Guyunis, and Lazeer had come down wearing their night-clothes. While Bile and Lazeer had looked terrible, Guyunis had looked a little better. Bile and Lazeer had refused to eat anything while Guyunis had managed to take down a slice of buttered toast and a glass of juice before being caught by illness fatigue. Lazeer went back to his room for thirty minutes before coming downstairs with the dinosaur model that he started putting together two days ago. Bile and Guyunis had taken up residency in the living room after being woke up. Lazeer had joined them with his model; he seemed to have a little more strength than they.

His youngest brother was currently sitting in front of the coffee table. The sports page to the local newspaper was spread over half of the table; the pieces to his dinosaur model were on it. Their mother had given Bile a blanket sometime after he took residency on the living room's sectional couch. A blanket was also given to Guyunis, who took residency on the loveseat. The wire, bone-like armature of the model that Lazeer was putting together was complete; Lazeer was taking his slow time in putting the clay that came with the model on the armature now. Guyunis's AM/FM radio was brought down from his room at around ten-thirty; their mother turned it on then placed it on the side of the coffee table that wasn't dominated by Lazeer's dinosaur model. She also brought Guyunis's kitten down. Guyunis's kitten, who was now three months and ten days old, was all stretch out on the back of the loveseat; she seemed to know that her owner was sick. Except to stretch out a leg, or to shift her position some, she hadn't moved or budged from that spot.

It seemed strange to him that everything had turned alright after the abnormal start to that day; everything was in order, everyone was going by their business, and there was a rather peaceful feeling in the house that he found himself liking. At around twelve o' two, he decided to go on and have lunch; he walked into the dining room at the same time that the song that was playing on Guyunis's AM/FM radio switched over. He had just given Hazaar, who was in the same room as he, a playful shove when a new song started to play on the radio.

Oooooh, you're sick  
(You're sick)  
Feeling blue because you're so sick  
(You're sick)  
Stayed out too long in the snow  
Didn't come in when it started to rain  
You didn't come in when you was told to and now you're sick  
(You're sick)  
Can't do nothing  
Can't get out of bed or leave the house  
Just sitting and hacking  
Or sneezing and snorting  
(You're sick)  
Can't do nothing but pout  
Eyes all bloodshot and hot  
Nose all runny with snot  
Feeling all weak because...  
(You're so sick)  
(So sick)  
(So sick)  
(So siiiii—)

"For the luh-uve of my ma, somewah-uhn pleh-ease shu-uh-t that juh-unk off!" Bile said as loudly as his sore and achy throat would allow him to say. The corners of Lhaklar's mouth turned down while Hazaar snickered and shook his head. "Shoot that b-uh-x or s-uh-m-thing! Sh-uh-t it off! My eh-ars! My eh-ars!"

"Bile!" Angel exclaimed in a low of a whisper as she walked into the room.

She was upstairs, in her room, figuring out the bills, when she heard the change-over on the radio and, for some strange reason, she had known that something would happen that would require her immediate attention so, she got up then started the process of going downstairs to either prevent or chide the one that would make the wrong thing happen happen. She was surprised when she heard Bile whisper-yelling; even though the whispered yell was low, it was still loud. She had grown concerned about it bothering Guyunis, who was either resting or sleeping soundly on the loveseat, or Lazeer, who was trying to force himself to be somewhat normal that day. While the first half of that morning wasn't a good one for her, she was happy to see that her three sick children were out of bed. They were showing an effort in trying to get better, even though they still looked the way they had the day before.

While last month was difficult for her and her family, they hadn't had it as bad as she had thought. The bills were still paid on time and she was still able to fill the kitchen cabinets when it came time to restock on what they were low on. It looked like this month was going to be a little rough for her and her family; unless the weather shaped up, they'd be near to crawling by around the middle part of the month. The envelope that Lhaklar started putting half of his paycheck in in September was looking rather poor these days; she figured that his workplace was experiencing what the other workplaces were experiencing—the drought; people were staying inside instead of going out to get the necessary things for their families because of the weather and now because of the flu-bug that was going around.

The box that she started putting a little money in each week, after her paycheck started coming in, was also looking a bit poor. She and her family weren't in fault because of this; she wasn't going to go around, asking who all had gotten into the family savings, and she wasn't going to ask Lhaklar why he wasn't putting money in the envelope like he usually did. It looked like she was either going to be very late in giving her sons their November allowances or, if things got even more tighter with the money that was being brought in, she'd be paying a double allowance next month. Her heart hurt for having to put off giving her sons their November allowances but, what could she do? The bills and the food pantry came first; her sons knew this. It was an automatic rule in the house. Those two things came first then their allowances would come afterwards.

She was slightly taken aback by what she saw in the living room; Bile was still slumped against the arm of the sectional couch. His poor nose was red and runny, his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and he was covered in sweat from head to foot. She wasn't expecting to see her son looking that bad; it seemed that he looked better before she went up to figure out the bills. The surface of the coffee table, that Lazeer's slowly-coming-along dinosaur model was on, was nearly covered up with what she and he called Sick People Stuff. Guyunis's AM/PM radio was within an arm's reach of Bile; it was surrounded by a sea of used tissue paper. There were four plastic cups—two, of which, her youngest son was using for his model paints—on the table. The plastic cup that had Bile's barely touched orange juice in it was half-on/half-off the edge of the table; the plastic cup that had Lazeer's Granini Apple Juice in it was right beside him. The tv was on but, since the AM/PM radio was on, it was muted. The room had a musky, sour smell of sickness in it; if it wasn't in the low-eighties outside, she would of opened one of the room's windows.

"Bile," Angel said after reaching her oldest son's side. Bile slowly turned his head to look at her. "the radio is only a short reach away. Instead of speaking as loudly as you just did, and instead of using what little voice you have, you can just reach over to change its channel or turn it off."

"I'm suh-rie," Bile replied, then swallowed twice. His throat made a dry, scratchy sound that Lazeer winced at. "I d-eh-dn't m-heh-n to—"

"Hush now," Angel said. She placed her hand flat against Bile's forehead; her emerald-green eyes went wide with shock after she did that. "The last time I took your temperature, you was at a hundred and one degrees, you're near to burning now. Should I prepare a cool bath for you, or help you to your room?"

"N-ooh-o," Bile shook his head.

"You sure? You're burning up." Angel asked. Bile responded by having a coughing fit that lasted for a good, long, sixty seconds. When he was done with his fit, he reached behind him. There was a nearly empty box of tissues on the arm of the sectional couch that he was leaning against; he picked it up then took two tissues from it. Lazeer gagged dryly as his brother hacked into one of the tissues; the tissue that his brother had just hacked into was crumpled up and then thrown on the coffee table's surface. Bile blew his nose with the other tissue that he took from the box next.

"You trying to make all of us sick, Bile?" Angel asked in disgust. She left the room for only a minute; when she returned, she had a small, handheld broom in one hand and a plastic wastebasket in the other. She sweeped the used tissue papers into the wastebasket quickly before placing the wastebasket in front of Bile. "You use that. I don't want to see anymore used tissues on this table."

"Oh-kay," Bile said.

"I mean it, Bile. No more used tissues on this table's top. Think of not only me, Lhaklar, and Hazaar but also of Lazeer and Guyunis," Angel said as she went over to check on Lazeer, who had gone back to working on his dinosaur model. "We all use this table, Bile. Not all of us want to be sick with the flu and the radio that's on the table is Guyunis's. I highly doubt if Guyunis wants to have your sick-germs crawling all over it and I also doubt if Lazeer wants his dino model to be germed-up either."

Bile said nothing back; he just scooped his cup of orange juice up. He took a small sip from his juice as Angel placed the back of her hand on Lazeer's forehead. Lazeer moaned softly when he felt the coolness of his mother's hand touch his hot face. He nearly started to cry when she took her hand off his forehead—he had felt some comfort from her brief, cool touch.

"You feel pretty hot as well," Angel said. She glanced at the model that her son was slowly putting together. The box had a Torvosaurus, a type of predator dinosaur that had several rows of short spikes running down the length of the back of its neck, on it. Angel couldn't help but beam with pride inside; Hazaar had brought the model home for Lazeer two days ago. He said something about not wanting his brother to be bored during his sick-days after she asked him why he got the model for his brother. "Having a hard time putting your model together, Lazie?"

"Uh-uh," Lazeer shook his head. Since his throat was just as dry and sore as Bile's, he signaled that he was tired, sore, and that he felt rather weak with his hand.

"Maybe you should put your model away? Go upstairs and take a nap, it might help." Angel suggested. Lazeer shook his head. "Honey, your model isn't going anywhere. If you're worried about the clay drying on you while you take time out to nap, you can put it in a bag that has a little bit of water in it. No one'll touch it if you leave it on the coffee table."

"No, I'm fine. I'll be fine." Lazeer signaled with his hand.

"Alright, while I could force you, Guyunis, and Bile to go upstairs, I won't. You three've spent all week up there." Angel said.

Before leaving Lazeer be, she placed her hand on the back of his head. His brick-red, bristly hair was wet with sweat and it had a heated feeling to it that she didn't much like. While Lazeer wasn't as sweaty as Bile, he did have a light sheet of perspiration on him. When she came into the room, she noticed how drawn-in and haggard-looking his face had looked when he turned to look at her. Since her son's eyes were a full silver color, she couldn't tell if his eyes were bloodshot or not; her son did have dark blue rings around his eyes and he did look rather tired. She left him, worried but content in knowing that, if anything should happen, or if he needed her, she was a short walk away.

She walked across the room to Guyunis, who was lying in a rather uncomfortable looking position on the room's loveseat. While there was plenty of room on the sectional couch for two to stretch out on, he had decided that the room's loveseat was his for however long he decided to stay downstairs that day. Guyunis was lying almost on his stomach on the loveseat; his legs were still curled to the side in fetal-position but his chest and face were now facing the furniture's cushion. One of his arms was dangling almost to the floor while the other was propped up against the back of the loveseat. The blanket that she gave him earlier was nearly on the floor. As she walked towards him, she noticed that his body was nearly drenched in sweat; when she detected the sounds of snoring, she decided to leave him be. After getting on Bile for whisper-yelling, then checking on him and Lazeer, then deciding to leave Guyunis be, she left the living room. She went down the hallway that came off the foyer then she went into the dining room. Lhaklar and Hazaar, to her great surprise, were goofing around in the kitchen silently. Lhaklar had a spatula in his hand; he was using it like a sword. Hazaar was wielding a slotted spoon in the exact same manner.

"Uh, ahem, boys." Angel said softly. Lhaklar and Hazaar automatically dropped the spatula and slotted spoon that they were "dueling" with.

"Sorry momma, couldn't help myself." Hazaar said quickly. "He started tickling me. I had to get the spoon out to stop him."

"And, of course, once the spoon came out, so did the spatula." Lhaklar chimed in.

"I'm glad to see that I have two lively, healthy boys still," Angel said. The cloud of a thought drifted across her face at that exact moment. The smile that spread across her face said that she was about to ask them to do something for her. "Don't suppose that either of you two would be against going out to do a little fishing. Bring home some protein that we could all use."

"I'm game," Lhaklar said.

"Instead of going out to fish, can one of us go out to do a little hunting? Have two types of protein on the table." Hazaar said.

"How's your leg?" Angel asked.

"Still hurts," Hazaar grumbled.

"Still limping badly on it?"

"Yes,"

"I'd really like for you to not use it but so much but, if you have to do some hunting, I guess I can't stop you. You've been wanting to do a hunt for so long now." Angel said. The corners of Hazaar's O-shaped mouth suddenly cranked up. "You two know the rules now. Be back before curfew and, please, be wise out there. If you get hot, find something to stand or sit under. Take a few bottles of water with you."

"Okay," Lhaklar said. He made a bee-line for the fridge while Hazaar made a bee-line for their mother. Hazaar grabbed their mother up in a near bone-crunching hug while Lhaklar pulled four bottles of water out from the fridge.


	29. Chapter 29

As he peeked his head out from behind the sun-baked bushes, that were twenty feet from the person that he stumbled upon by pure accident, he couldn't help but wonder if this was his chance at redemption.

The definition that was in any old dictionary would say that the word meant either an act of saving or of being saved from sin, evil or error, or that it was the act of regaining or gaining possession of something in exchange for payment, or that it was an act of redeeming or atoning for a fault or mistake; for him, the definition of his want for redemption was the latter one. Ever since that damn Goblin won one over on him near that dump in September, and then showeed him up in front of his employer a week later, when they were in the White House, he had wanted... no, he had _strived_ for redemption. That damn, four foot, six inch, lean-bodied Goblin should not of gotten two over on him so easily; he should of either sent the fucker to the hospital or destroyed him. He was taller and bigger than that damn Goblin and he was stronger too; he should of either beaten the Goblin back or he should of put him in a body bag but he had shockingly and disgustingly not been able to.

The Goblin had caught him off guard on the first attack, but he should of come back to waste him; he was in his element on the second attack but he had still not come out on top. He had lost that battle and his employer, and his co-workers, had voiced that quite loudly over the last month and seven days.

If the being that was twenty feet from him had been that foul Goblin, he wouldn't of just stood in-wait behind a bunch of dying bushes; he would of rushed out to attack him. He would of made him eat his own toes, then he would of made him watch as he removed his testicles and then fed them to the vultures that were flying overhead. He wasn't budging though; while the being that was in front of him wasn't that Goblin, he was someone that his employer was highly interested in finding. The being, a mid-aged teenager, was doing nothing more but sitting on a rock; it looked like he had a rod and reel in his hands. There was a fishing basket at the base of the rock that had maybe four or five, good-sized, brassy brown or silver-colored fish in it. The being must of been there for a while; his naked, mint-green back had a sweat shine to it and the muscle, that was on his arms, was quivering a little as if he had to put in a fight for some of the fish that he caught.

"Enjoy your last peaceful moment kid," he said after he saw him reel in one of the fish that were in the basket.

He had smiled wickedly all the while he was relaying his find to his employer. Telling him where he was and who he had in front of him. His employer was ecstatic after he told him who he had located; he told him to stay where he was right after he said the rare _good job Lynster_. Was it pure coincidence that his employer had sent Rourke, Galong, and Nygiti to his location or had his employer been wanting them three to see what he located? Rourke Ibmhun had stationed himself to the far right of the kid while Nygiti Meltin had stationed himself to the kid's far left. Galong Exadhoo was in front of the kid, but he was well-hidden by some overgrown bushes. While he had a feeling that his employer was somewhere around the area, he was still nervous; he had no orders to go by and he didn't know what to do. Should he charge the kid? Take him hostage? Tie him up, beat him up a little, or should he just stay where he was until his employer showed up or until some signal was made? He rolled his shoulders a little at the same time that the kid stood up on the rock. The kid leaped off the rock, then went into the water, quickly all while reeling his rod's line in; for a second, he thought that the kid was getting ready to leave the area, then he noticed that he had something big on his line. He watched in silence as the kid pulled the fishing rod back and as he rolled his line in and then let it go slack; he had to clap a hand to his mouth to suppress the laugh that wanted to come out when a long, large, and brightly silver fish leaped out from the river that the kid was fishing in.

"Oh boy! Oh boy! Come on, stay on the line!" Lhaklar thought excitedly. The fish that was on his line was a Zander and boy was it big. While he had already caught two large fish he did want to catch this one; he thought that it'd look good on his bedroom wall.

His father had taught him when he was living under his roof as a young child that patience was a deep requirement when it came to fishing and that being quiet went in-hand with it very well; in order to catch a fish, you had to have patience and you had to be quiet. Patience to wait for a bite and quietness to not scare the fish away—that was the trick of the hobby that he was currently doing. In the two hours that he was fishing in this part of the Illinger Altrhein, that was just fifty yards from the shield that went around Elchesheim-Illingen, he had been using them two early-taught techniques; he caught three German trouts real quick, then he landed a rather nicely sized Mirror carp, then he caught another German trout. An hour passed before he reeled in a ginormous Northern Pike. The Northern Pike had taken nearly twenty minutes to land; he was forced to take a break after landing that fish. His arms were so tired! He said the spell that sent the two, larger fish home about fifteen minutes later; after the Mirror carp and Northern Pike were sent away, he picked the rod and reel up again. He was having fun. He didn't want to go home just yet.

The Zander that was on the line was the only fish that took his bait after he threw his line back into the water; he did nothing but sit and stare at the river for all of an hour after he resumed fishing. Either the fish decided to move on or they decided that they had had enough of eating for the day. He was probably going to put his stuff away after catching this one. It was a little after two in the afternoon, it was hot, and his arms were shivering from exhaustion; while he wouldn't mind keeping the Mirror carp that he sent back home earlier as a trophy he figured that, if his mother wanted to make that fish a meal for their family, she could. If he caught the Zander that was on his line, he was going to try his best to keep it as a trophy.

The fishing rod that he was using was one of his favorites; he purchased it some years ago with the intent of using it for some in-depth fishing. It was a nice rod and reel; it was well worth the hefty price tag and he had used it a lot. While he had a simple bamboo pole in storage, something had told him to take the old Carbonlite baitcast rod and reel combo out. He checked the line that was in the reel spool, then he checked to see if the rod was up to what he had in mind to use it for, then he grabbed his fishing basket. He and Hazaar might of started out in the same location, but they hadn't stayed together. His brother went off after he made a ground spear shoot out from the ground; he wanted to do some hunting while he wanted to do some fishing.

"M'leg's kept me from my hunts, man," his brother said after they started getting ready for their planned hunting and fishing activities. "I've about cried myself silly thinking about all the game that I've missed out on hunting the last few months."

"Do us all a favor—get it all out of your system, and slowly." he said back.

"Plan on it," his brother responded. The playful punch that he gave him in the arm was only emphasis towards his words.

The area where he decided to go fishing in was near an unnamed road, that had a bridge on it, that crossed the Illinger Altrhein. While he was a little nervous about leaving the protection of the shield that his mother had put up over his and his family's current resident town, he hadn't really left the shield with bad intentions. There were no lakes inside the shield. He would of had to go to a different town to fish and he hadn't had any wish to do that. He wanted to do his fishing near home; he had told himself that the shield was a short run away if any trouble came up and he had also told himself to not worry about any trouble happening. His father and them other people that were in the Rastatter Rheinaue camp hadn't been seen in this area; it was a safe area and it was the only logical place to fish in. He was nervous for all of fifteen minutes after he stepped out from under the shield then he relaxed. He had been fishing for two hours; he had encountered no problems or issues. He was left alone to do a peaceful activity that wouldn't only benefit him but also his entire family. The fish that he caught would keep his family fed for a while; his three sick brothers would get some good fish-meat in them that'd help them get better quicker and he'd be looked at as a sort of hero in the house for his deed of catching so many fish for his family.

He couldn't help but laugh inside about the little friendly rivalry thing that he and his brothers sometimes did as he battled the fish. The hero thing started after they finished their schooling; it was a sort of competition thing that they did among themselves, but they didn't get but so hasty or aggressive with it. If one brother brought back more from his hunt or fishing trip, they wouldn't fret about it. They'd joke and maybe do a mock fight about it, but there were no, full-blown fights drawn out over who brought more home from their outdoorsman activities. They might make fun of what they brought home but it was all done in good-hearted humor. No one got on anyone for a bad hunt, or for something that was brought back that wasn't good enough for the family; even when they were living off the land earlier that year, they made sure to conduct themselves maturely and politely when it came to their hunts.

If Hazaar's hunt was a good one, and if he brought in a big kill, he wouldn't complain or act mopish; he was happy with what he caught. If Hazaar's hunt was a highly successful one, he'd congratulate him, like he always did, and he'd joke around and maybe try to mock-steal the spotlight from him. If Hazaar returned home with nothing, he'd not chide him. He'd give him a pat on the back then say that he'd have a better go the next time he went out to hunt; Hazaar would of done the same with him if he had shown up with nothing in his fish basket. There was no use in putting one down for their not being able to catch anything during their hunt or fishing activity. There was no use in hurting one's feelings or putting one down; it was frustrating enough when they caught nothing from their hunting or fishing activities. No one needed to add more dark clouds to their already heavy disappointment.

When the fish started to run with his line, he began to wonder if his mother's friendship with Mr. Leinart was over; they had sure been yelling at one another and his mother had even threatened to move the family to some other, far-off location that morning during their semi-heated conversation. He didn't know why, but he felt a little saddened over the fact that his mother's friendship with the man might be ending. While he saw the man as his mother's friend, and while he acted friendly towards the man, he had noticed a little feeling that he had been having towards the man. He didn't know if the feeling was purely friend-based, or if he saw the man as a father figure; all he knew was that the feeling was there. While it wasn't a strong feeling, it was a noticeable one that he was confused and curious over.

He had never felt this feeling before towards any of the other men that his mother had befrieded over the years; maybe it was because Mr. Leinart had gone so far out of his way to help his family or, maybe, it was because the man hadn't just dropped them like a hot potato after helping them or, maybe, it was because the man was actually acting like a true friend to his family instead of being one of them I'll-call-or-come-over-when-I-need-something-from-you types that he, his mother, and siblings had befriended or gotten to know over the years.

"Friends fight sometimes," he thought as he reeled the line back in. "It's a natural thing—not everyone gets along all the time."

The fish that was on his line zipped to the left then it jumped out of the water; he reeled the line in then he pulled the rod back a bit before dropping it. The fish wheeled to the right then dove down deep. The rod bowed in the middle in a near perfect U-shape as the fish dove. He struggled to pull the fish up and he struggled to keep his grip on the rod. His arms screamed; they were about through. Sweat poured down his back, and down the sides of his head, as the fish and he did their battle. Right when he was about to give up on the fish, the fish suddenly swam up to the surface; it rolled and twisted, trying to dislodge or spit the hook that was in its mouth out for nearly two minutes before going still. He reeled the fish in then grabbed it by the tail; when he hauled it out of the water, he saw the four, tooth-like protrusions that came out from its mouth. The fish was a bright, grayish-silver color; there was a greenish tone on its back. The fish was around twenty inches long and it was pretty heavy; he carried it to the bank of the river arm slowly then he placed it on the ground beside his fish basket. He sighed in relief afterwards.

"That'll do," he said. His arms seemed to rejoice in that decision. He bent down, grabbed his shirt, then tied it around his waist slowly. He took his shirt off after he got to the location; it was hot and he was half-drenched in sweat at the time.

When the kid started getting ready to leave, he very nearly leaped out from the cover of the sun-baked bushes that he had hid himself behind; it was nearly thirty minutes since he told his employer who he discovered and his employer was nowhere in sight. Rourke had caught his eye once; he saw that he was nervous too. When he glanced over at Nygiti, he noticed that he was dancing in place. Galong had pushed the branches of the bushes that he was behind to the side a few times so he knew that he was also antsy. The fish that the kid had just landed lay in place by the large, round rock for a short minute before disappearing; the basket that had the four or five smaller-sized fish in it disappeared a short second later, as did the fishing pole that the kid was using. When the kid started to walk off, he watched him. Sweat was now making his brown fur become matted; his red, imperial suit was, without a shadow of a doubt, going to the cleaners after this day. It was drenched in sweat and it clung to his body a little too tightly for his comfort. When the kid started going down a worn-down path, that was obviously pretty well used by the humans, he started to follow him. He crept out from the bushes that he hid behind then he stole across the area as silently as he could. The bushes that obscured Rourke started jingling almost at once before going still; he saw gray fur fly as his co-worker walked briskly down the line of bushes that ran almost all the way down the river arm that the kid was fishing in. He heard someone curse behind him then he heard a twig snap; he stopped almost at once when that happened for nearly twenty seconds before slowly inching himself forward.

When he got to the path that the kid had taken he stopped; he inched his head around the bushes that were to his left. New sweat poured from him when he saw that the kid had stopped about ten feet down the path. Had the kid become suspicious of them? Had he been alerted to their presence by that twig being snapped? The kid was standing motionless; it looked like he was looking down at something on the path. Since he was so far from the kid, he couldn't see what the he was looking at.

"Lynster," he heard someone behind him say. He turned around and saw that Nygiti was there. Nygiti's left cloven hoof was up; he was giving him the signal to be silent.

"No, you don't say? I thought it was time to jump out and party like an animal." he thought sarcastically.

Lhaklar stood nearly in the center of the path; the landscape around him had taken on a quiet feeling that he didn't like and the too-warm breeze that was blowing since that early morning had suddenly stopped. Everything around him was quiet and still; no animals sang or went by their business and, for some peculiar reason, it seemed to of dropped a degree or two. He was fine when he started down the path that was worn down by the humans in their trek to the river arm that he had fished in; after noticing the print, he went on alert. The muscles that were in his back, and that were in his arms and legs, were taut; if anything happened, he'd be running and pretty fast in nothing flat. His inner ears were tuned into any sounds that happened. He was looking out from the corners of his eyes at what was around him.

The print wasn't there before he came here, he was pretty sure of that. There were only animal prints on the path when he came down it and they had all looked a little aged; this print looked human, or possibly human, in origin and it looked relatively fresh—as in, either just made or made just a few minutes ago. The pattern of the track was clear; the shoe that made it had a smooth sole. The heel of the shoe was a quarter of an inch in height; the size of the print was about thirteen inches long by four inches wide. Who made this print? It couldn't of been his father; he was pretty sure that his father was in that camp in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve and he was also pretty sure that everyone else that was noted as being in that camp were still in that area. Was a human in the area? Could someone else be in the area?

He stepped by the print; giving it as wide a berth as possible. His every muscle quivered. He turned his head from left to right slowly. When he reached a bend in the path, he took it slowly. He looked behind him for only a second; when he saw that nothing was behind him, he turned his head so that he was looking forward. He went down the path slowly; his every sense was keyed in. He used the lessons that his mother had taught him early-on in how to detect trouble; before he was allowed to go out to hunt on his own, his mother taught him how to use the environment as a tell-on. The environment would tell him if there was trouble a-foot or if it was safe to be in.

"Listen to what's around you. You'll know the signs of things not being right and fast if something's up." he remembered his mother telling him once. "The wind will stop blowing; everything will grow quiet—even the animals, Lhakie. They'll go quiet; go by them, and the environment around you, to stay safe."

There were no birds singing. He heard no animals jumping around in the foliage around him. It was totally quiet. He had heard a twig snap behind him before he noticed the print but it wasn't the twig that caused him to become alarmed.

It was that print. That so human in-design print.

The hum of the shield was close now. He had just two more bends and straight-a-ways to go before reaching it and safety. While he wanted to break out and run to it, he didn't; that was the last thing he wanted to do. Running was a last resort thing; he would be picked up and fast if there was a predator in the area and he would be showing great weakness if he up and ran if there was a sentient, malevolent being in the area. Predators, both animal and of the intelligent, bipedal-type, were well-known for their swiftness and their cunning; he wouldn't of gone far before being knocked off his feet if he started to run. It seemed unfair to him that, all the while he was fishing, he had felt nor seen no signs of trouble coming; that one time of being nervous after leaving the shield was very pale to this. He wasn't nervous right now. He was on alert. As he keyed into the environment around him, he walked on. His eyes swept to the left and right slowly. His muscles flexed and then relaxed only to flex again on their own accord.

As he went along, he found himself growing angry with himself; it wasn't like him to disobey his mother. It wasn't like him to be this adventuresome or brazen. There were maybe a handful of times where he was like this—where he left the safety of some protected area that his mother had set down for him and his brothers. He was the type of being that obeyed his mother's every word and command; he didn't just go out and do something without worrying about the consequences. That time he left the shield, when they were living in Wyoming, was a good example of his being too adventuresome; it was usually Bile who went out and disobeyed their mother. It was usually he that was the over-adventuresome one. Not he—not LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit. He was usually a mature and confident being; he could get into them over-adventuresome activities sometimes but he usually kept his head on when he did them. He hadn't kept his head on straight in his decision of leaving the shield that was around Elchesheim-Illingen; he decided to leave the shield because he didn't want to go to some other town that had lakes or rivers under its shield.

He went around the first bend, then he went down the short straight-away that came off the first one, then he took the second bend slowly. He was feeling a little better when the brakes, that were in his legs, suddenly pulled. He was on the second straight-a-way now; the one that ran into the shield that was around the town that he and his family lived in. He was just a few feet from being under the protective dome that his mother had put up over the planet's communities sometime after he was born but he found himself unable to move a step forward. He became paralyzed at the same time that a sense of confusion rolled over him; he blinked his eyes twice before closing them for a few seconds. He re-opened his eyes after them few seconds ended.

"No way! Bile's at home... He's sick with the flu. He can't be out here, he—"

The person that was standing in the middle of the path, about thirty feet from him, looked like his older brother but he also didn't look like his brother. He was tall, about two inches taller than Bile, and his body was colored differently and his ears were longer. The left side of the person's head and body was a golden-yellow color while the other side of the person's head and body was a dark blue color; the ears, that stuck out from the sides of the person's head, went the entire length of his shoulders. They were a golden color; there were several, black, Tiger-like stripes on them. The eyes that were in the person's face were also not Bile's. Bile had glowing, yellow-green eyes; this person had simple, glowing golden-yellow eyes that had tiny, black pupils in their centers.

His vision grew blurry for a second; he blinked once, then held his eyes shut for a second or two, before re-opening them. A sound akin to a scream and a moan escaped him almost at once; with his vision clear, he could now tell that he was in some dire trouble. The person that was in front of him, right smack in the middle of the path, about thirty feet from him, wasn't only shirtless but a very dangerous man. He had tried to kill him and Bile when they were small babies and he had actually succeeded in killing his mother once. He had swore him an enemy right after he was born, which was very unfair, since he did nothing to deserve such a title.

While keeping the man that was his mother's and older brother's biological father in his sights, he slowly backed away. The man stood his ground; he didn't move an inch, which he found strange. When he was near a few, tall trees, he turned then fled into the forest. It seemed that that was what the man was waiting for because here he came. He heard him coming for him.

The man made the foliage snap; there were crashings behind him and he heard two or three thuds as if something heavy had fallen to the ground. The man that was pursuing him wasn't making a sound. He wasn't breathing hard or abnormally; he was breathing normally, and he wasn't saying anything as he crashed into the foliage that was around him. He ran as fast as he could; he tried to run a long circle around the path to the shield that was around the town that his family were in. When he jumped over a fallen log, he felt a burning sensation on the back of his shoulders, right below his neck. He didn't bother looking back and, since he could feel his shoulder bleeding, he didn't bother reaching his hand back to see if he was bleeding or not. The man that was pursuing him was close; he was practically on his tail and he had just swiped one of his hands at him.

"Leave the shield to go fishing then find yourself being chased like a fuckin' rabbit, how nice is that?" his frantic mind asked away.

Another swipe happened. He felt another burning sensation, on the small of his back this time. It almost seemed like he was inching away from the man. Outrunning him. Out-distancing him.

Earlier that year, when he was living under his father's roof, he had several books in his room. They had all come from his father's library; he snuck in reads at any chance that he had gotten. He decided to keep the books after his mother told him to put some of his things in one of his duffel bags in January. One of the books that he took from his father was on training one's self on how to run; how to train the legs, how to get them to work, how one who had grown tall too fast could run fast without having to wait until his legs became untangled. He was doing a lot of running the last couple of months. He was training himself and his legs; while he wished that this wasn't happening, he was happy with the chance to finally see if all his training was successful.

Another swipe happened. He felt his pursuer's fingernails prick his back, but he didn't feel any burning sensations. All he felt was the slight tug of his shirt being yanked from his waist. He added a burst of speed at the same time that a whoosh of air fell over his right shoulder; he felt blood course down from his shoulder, and from the wounds that were on his back, but he didn't stop. The hum of the shield was close now; when he ran a turn, he suddenly caught the sight of the pink shield that was his safety line. The forest cleared out around him right when he saw the shield. He glanced to the left for only a second and couldn't really believe what he was seeing.

He looked to be, at least, a half dozen feet in front of the man that was his mother's and older brother's father. He was running in front of the man... he was outdistancing him, and his lungs and body seemed to be doing just fine. Behind him, he heard the pained whistle of one who had just gotten through having a hard run. It sounded like his pursuer was at his limit, which he found hilarious. Master Vile had set a track record in school in his youth; a track record that stood for thousands of years before being broke by his own son. Had the man grown weak, or had age caught up with him?

"Getting slow in your old age eh?" he called back to his pursuer. "Maybe y'should drop off the snacks for a while, it'll help ya in your old aiii—"

The hole that he stepped in was a deep one. His ankle screamed when he stepped in it; while he didn't scream out in pain after stepping in the hole, he did when he landed on his funny bone. Master Vile, his pursuer for only the Gods knew how long in this now post-panic stricken run, ran into him like a sack of potatoes. Master Vile's hands ripped him up from the ground then they threw him around and then back towards the forest that they had just come from. His chin started singing after it struck one of the trunks of the trees; he tried to rebound and run again but it was useless—his right ankle was either badly sprained or broken. He couldn't run anymore. He had just turned around to throw an energy attack at the man that pursued him through the forest when a fist sailed home into his gut; he doubled over almost at once. While the fight and the terror were still there, he couldn't do anything. He fought for breath and he fought to stay on his feet.

"Lynster!" Master Vile yelled. "Lh-Lh-Lynster! Rourke! Galong! N-Nygiti!"

That was all that he could say; his lungs screamed for air and his body screamed for a rest. He couldn't believe how fast and how far he had run and he still couldn't believe that he hadn't been able to catch the brat that was in front of him before now! He had planned to toy with the kid. Let him run a little race, let him run in front of him for a little while, before catching and then breaking his body and spirit. He had expected for the race to be a short one. He had expected to run the kid down in nothing flat but, instead, the kid had run _him_ for a race and he had stayed _ahead_ of _him_ by a few feet. He had thought that the kid that was in front of him, his daughter's secondborn son, who was also his uncle's firstborn son, a slow runner; he had seen the track meets that Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic had kept on file of this kid running—he ran slow. He had grown too tall too fast for speed, so he couldn't run like he could... or so he had thought. Once this kid saw him, he reacted. He bade his time until the moment where the race started... only the race hadn't been what he had expected. That run had not been the short one that he had expected it to be at all.

He swung his fist at the kid's head when the kid started to stand up straight; the gash, that was on the side of the head that he had punched, opened up. Blood pooled out from the wound quickly. The gash that was on the right side of the kid's head didn't look very new; it was around three inches long and the flesh—prior to his swinging his fist—was closed over the wound. The kid flopped to his side then tried to crawl away. He swung his leg back then swung it out with such force that the kid flew a foot off the ground; the kid grabbed at his groin then turned around to look at him. He held one of his hands up as if to ward him off. He barked a pained laugh at the kid then kicked him again.

He had just gotten through speaking with his uncle and the three new-comers at that Rastatter Rheinaue camp when his communicator went off; Lynster was on the other end and he was talking in a very low whisper. He wasn't able to understand him at first because of that whisper and he was about to voice that when Lynster started talking a little louder. He came close to doing a cartwheel when he heard that Lynster had located the kid and when he heard that the kid wasn't inside the shielded part of the country. He would of yelled for joy had he not of still been near his uncle's camp. He formulated a plan right after being told where the kid was; he called Rourke, Galong, and Nygiti, then he told them to get to the area, then he teleported to the area. He stomped his foot down hard enough to make a good print on the path that led away from the river-arm that the kid was said to be fishing at then he positioned himself in front of the shield. He removed his breast-plate, then his robe, while he was waiting for the kid to show up, then he stood still. The rest of what happened hadn't really gone well. He had nearly lost the kid.

His grandfather's, that Trob-guy's, and his great-grandfather's arrivals to the planet had created so much havoc with his schedule that he hadn't been able to sleep for nearly a week; the weather on his part of the planet was crazy and he was having a time in keeping up with it. Tornadic activity in the central and western states of North America had increased after his uncle's crazy entrance to the planet; five hurricanes had laid waste to the Atlantic islands, and to the eastern states of North America; and many small to medium-range tremors had been recorded around the volcanoes that were located in North America's national parks. Mexico City had been calling his name for nearly two weeks now; he had spent so much time there that he dreamt it in his sleep. Mexico City had, apparently, been built over a lake that was drained some thousands of years ago, by the Spaniards. Over the years, it had fallen into disarray, but the humans had managed to keep it livable... or, so he and the people that lived there had thought.

His grandfather's arrival had made the area unstable; that Trob-guy's arrival had made the area even more unstable; while his great-grandfather's arrival had been the straw that broke the camel's back. The whole city was now a complete disaster zone; the ground had surrendered... it collapsed and it took the whole city, and its denizens, with it. Buildings lay in ruin; wood, and pieces of concrete, lay everywhere; people who were still trapped under the fallen buildings were still begging for help. He had dispatched a thousand of his troops to the area to get the survivors out of their trapped places and to get the area cleared of debris about two hours after the damage was done. His troops were still working on the area and the casualties were still climbing. There was over a billion dollars of damages done to the city and there were around five to ten thousand dead and the area was still unstable. Two hundred of his troops had actually been swallowed up by a sinkhole yesterday; another sinkhole had swallowed around a hundred civilians an hour later. Looting was happening and so was social unrest.

"Blaming that on us, Lad?" his great-grandfather asked him, after he relayed all of what he had experienced on the other side of the planet.

"In a way, yes." he said back. He turned to look at his uncle before going on. "It all started after this fuckwad came here. If he hadn't of entered the planet so violently and so illegally—"

"Illegally? What spaceautic book have you been reading? There's no rule or law saying that one can't drive a ship into a planet at over a hundred thousand miles an hour." his uncle said. "It's recommended that a ship not be flown into a planet at that speed, it's not against any laws though."

"Your crazy entrance started all of this shit with the weather!" he responded a little too loudly. "Monsoon's are happening in places where rain only happens once or twice a year; it's snowing in places that normally don't see any snow; it's hot in places that normally don't get over sixty degrees; it's cold in places where it's normally over eighty degrees. Water sources in certain places are drying up; tropic-formed storms have grown extremely powerful... not to mention that this planet's tropic season storms—meaning the hurricanes—have been extremely long-lived... I can go on and on about what's going on on this planet thanks to you and your crazy entrance."

"And who's at fault for my "crazy" entrance to this planet of yours? Me or you; if I recall correctly, you kept valuable information on my sons' whereabouts to yourself." his uncle said a bit too calmly for his liking. "You ask me, I had all right in my entrance to this planet."

"You had no right!"

Nothing of what he said had gotten through to them; all of them had seen their entrances to his planet as rightly done. After he saw that they weren't listening to him, he demanded that they leave his planet. They refused, which pissed him off; as owner and conqueror of the planet, he had all right of demanding one to leave and he also had all right in throwing one out. He was about to voice that when his grandmother came up. Frustration, that led to being pissed off, had been turned into full-blown embarrassment when she started fussing over him; she wrapped him up in a bone-crunching hug, then she ran her hands over him to see if he was "healthy", then she started throwing pieces of caramel at him, then she turned on the charm after she was told about his little demand.

She had used their bond against him. She had used that womanly and that grandmother-grandson charm/bond of hers to her advantage in getting him to take back what he had said. He left the area feeling very hot around the face; he wasn't allowed to check-in on his younger brother, who he knew was injured last week by Triskull's probable son. His frustrations were so great that he just didn't want to stick around to see him and then address the seriousness of his injuries. He had just walked out of the area when his communicator went off.

"Lllll-yyyyn-ster!" he roared after taking in enough air to fill more than one set of lungs. He was sucking in air to yell the names of his other staff members when they—all of them—suddenly ran out from the forest.

When his employer pointed at the kid, who was nearly curled up in a ball at his feet, he grew concerned; no command or order or insult was spoken. His employer, who's chest was heaving up and down in a rather alarming way, had just gestured a command out to them; this wasn't like his employer. His employer usually barked his orders out strongly and verbally. Nygiti and Rourke pounced at the kid; they hauled him to his feet then they held him tight while he and Galong stood to the side. The kid, who had a badly bleeding cut to the right side of his head, and who's backside was bleeding moderately, gave three or four half-hearted lunges before going still... or stillish, since all he was doing was standing in place, shivering.

They stood there for a while; either watching the kid bleed and shiver or watching their employer gasp in breath after breath. Lynster grew concerned after the twenty minute mark. When he went towards his employer, he found himself reeling backwards after a rather loud beam of yellow energy was shot at him. Master Vile bounced back to his former self at the thirty minute mark; he stood tall then started forward, towards Lhaklar, who was now shying back. Lhaklar had just tried to turn around when he felt a stinging sensation on his chest; he looked down and, to his great shock, saw that the man, who had fathered his mother and older brother, had his left index finger pressed against him. The long, dark blue fingernail, that was on the end of that left index finger, was pressed into his chest. It was drawing blood as its owner swept it across his chest.

"One of the three disgusting brats that my daughter wrongly birthed in my midst," Master Vile said menacingly. "Too bad I don't have all three of you. Would of been quite a show."

"You rat!" Lhaklar said, trying to be strong and brave. His voice cracked at the last second; his shivering grew worse, and he began to sweat quite profusely.

"How is it that my daughter managed to keep you and your two brothers is beyond me—there's nothing special to any of you." Master Vile said as he ripped his fingernail out from Lhaklar's chest. "All peasant-born—nothing special. Bad blood, badly bred, and—"

" _You're_ badly bred!" Lhaklar spat in Master Vile's face. Master Vile did nothing more than smile at him.

"You've been allowed to live too long boy. It's way past time for you to meet your destiny in—"

He automatically started thinking back to the dream that he had that morning in his terror; the scientist that he wasn't able to see much of in his dream suddenly changed in appearance. He went from looking like a fat, mid-sized human into looking like a Master Vile-like creature that had angry, beet-red eyes and horny protrusions on his head. He envisioned with his mind's eye this morbid scientist-thing putting him through all sorts of horribly painful tests—wires were attached to nearly every part of his body; he was forced to demonstrate his powers while being electrocuted, pinched, cut, or subjected to either freezing or hot temperatures; and he was forced to go hours without sleep just to see if his powers had grown weaker or stronger... He came very close to forgetting the situation that he was in; thanks to his terror, he came very close to forgetting the chase that he did in trying to get away from Master Vile. He came close to forgetting the post-chase abuse that he went through after that chase ended and he also came close to forgetting about the two men that had him by the arms and, most importantly, he came very close to forgetting about his powers.

He thought about what would happen after he was gone. About how his mother would react to having just four sons instead of five and about how his brothers would feel knowing that he was no longer around to bug them crazy. Before the realization of his power abilities came to him, he thought about how vulnerable he was; he was caught, his arms were being held, and the only weapon that he had on him was a pocketknife that was in his left-side pants pocket. He just stood there, shivering and sweating and thinking his fear-inspired thoughts, before the realization of his still being able to use his powers came to him. When he realized his mistake, thirty minutes had passed; his chest was cut, and the gash that was on the right side of his head, which healed an inch and a quarter in the last month, was re-opened. When he realized what he could do with his powers, he grew angry and on the defensive; he attacked his attackers almost at once.

He used his Telekentic powers to lift Master Vile up off the ground then, while keeping the palm of his hand facing the man, he shoved him back as hard as he could. Master Vile went sailing ten feet before landing on a fallen tree. Hard! With Master Vile temporarily out of the way, he turned his attention towards the two men that had him by the arms. He used the same ability to shove them back then he turned his attention towards the Claydo and the lizard-like man that were now rushing at him. Even while hobbling around, favoring his either badly sprained or broken right ankle, he had the advantage over them; he sent an electric current at them then he sent a rolling, purple-colored fireball at them that sent them reeling back.

He turned his attention towards Master Vile next. The man had recovered and was coming at him furiously; he sent a barrage of red and white fireballs and energy currents at him then he made the ground under his feet ripple and split. The man stumbled twice, he was sent flying back once, then he fell to the ground twice, before starting to attack him with his own powers. At the same time that he and the man that was technically his grandfather were engaged in a heated power-battle, a news van with the AO12 News slogan on the sides stopped. A man and a woman got out of the van quickly. The man grabbed a camera from the back of the van quickly then started filming what was going on outside of the shield that was around Elchesheim-Illingen. The woman that was with the man stood to the side; with the exception of her eyes, which spoke volumes on what she was seeing, and on what was going on, she was silent.

"You will be dead by the hour's ending, boy!" Master Vile, the man who he would never regard as his grandfather, roared as he sent a beam of purple energy at him.

"We'll see about that!" he yelled back. He grabbed the energy beam then returned it to its maker, who leaped out of the way to avoid it.

He made steam rise up from the ground, then he made the ground where the man was standing sway. When the man rushed at him, he made portions of the ground where he was at rise and then fall. He used his Acidic powers to make a wave of acid fly towards the man when the man continued to battle him. When the man started running towards him again, he made purple acid balls fly towards him. He cast purple and black energy beams and waves at the man then he tried to grab the man with his Telekinetic powers when he continued coming towards him. He had just grabbed the man with his Telekinetic powers when something happened to make him fall to his knees.

While he didn't know what happened, the two people that were recording what was going on did; the lizardman, Galong Exadhoo, had picked up a piece of wood from the ground nearby. The man had rushed forward then had swung the piece of wood at his head. The piece of wood that Galong had used on him made the gash that was on the right of his head rip open more; he felt more blood pour out from the wound as he collapsed to the ground. He spat blood when his body struck the ground then his vision became blurry afterwards. He was just blinking his eyes when something strong wrapped around his throat. He felt himself being picked up but he found himself unable to fight or even struggle to get free. The blow that Galong Exadhoo had given him had put him in a daze; he couldn't do a thing to defend himself and he couldn't get away from his attackers.

"You are _not_ all that _you_ think _you_ are, Runt!" Master Vile said as he swung his fist into Lhaklar's stomach. "You _are_ nothing! You _are_ weak! Not worth the life you were given!" he threw Lhaklar towards Galong and Nygiti, who caught and then held him. Master Vile shot his hand forward; a sheet of red-hot energy wrapped around Lhaklar. Lhaklar screamed in agony for all of two minutes before the attack was dropped. "You should _never_ of been born! That father of yours should _never_ of coupled with my daughter! You're existence is _nothing_ more than a _pathetic_ joke!"

Cäcilia Maus looked away almost at once while her cameraman, Emmerich Heidenreich, looked over to the side. Emmerich Heidenreich kept the camera steady, but he had no heart left in doing anything else; like his co-worker, he couldn't stomach what was going on. Neither of them had expected to come upon the fight and neither of them had known that they'd be witnessing Master Vile beat the second son of their planet's heroine to a pulp. In the back of the van was the technician, Rupert Haupt; he was on the phone with the owner of their network. He had seen a little under half of the fight before deciding to duck back into the relatively safe van that was now shielding him from what was going on.

The first thing that ran through their heads, after they came upon the fight, was about how good a story the fight would make for their network. They weren't thinking that now. Now, they just wanted to get out of the area. Cäcilia Maus was cheering Lhaklar on secretly; he looked so powerful out there... Emmerich Heidenreich had seen the lizardman with the piece of wood first; he came close to toppling the camera over when he saw the guy swing the piece of wood at Lhaklar then he screamed in alarm after the piece of wood collided with Lhaklar's head. Lhaklar, who seemed so in-control, and who seemed so strong in the fight, was felled quickly afterwards and now he was being pulverized by the very man that he was fighting.

"What's going on out there? Rupert? Rupert? Hello? Anyone in the van?" Nefen Foerstner, the owner of their news agency, was saying from Rupert Haupt's cellular phone.

Lhaklar's body jerked back with each punch that Master Vile landed on him; Master Vile had electrocuted him three times before deciding to just attack him with his fists. He spat blood twice; while he didn't beg for the man to leave him alone, he did wish for him to. His head was throbbing almost as badly as his ribs and groin were. Master Vile's fists showed no prejudice on his body; they caught everything. Master Vile's naked, half-flesh/half-skeletal chest was slick with sweat and it was heaving up and down, but not as badly as it was after they finished their race through the forest. The man's mouth was turned up in a terrible smile; his blue-tinted glasses were missing so he had a good view of the too-pleased look that was in the his eyes.

The two men that were holding his arms pulled him back and then up after their employer's fists made him drop or fall back; his arms were lacking two layers of skin where they had him and they were plenty sore. When he tried to kick his leg up, he found himself screaming in agony—Master Vile grabbed the leg that he kicked up then he twisted it to the side. He didn't know what was broke in that leg, but he knew that something was broken and pretty badly. Master Vile had just swung his fist into his face when he felt the grip of the two men that were holding him release; he fell to the ground in a heap. He yelled out in pain when his weight fell on his newly broken leg then he tried to roll over. Master Vile kicked him in the ribs twice before stepping back. The sick smile that was on his face was still there, as was the too-pleased look that was in his eyes.

"See what I mean?" Master Vile cackled. "Anyone of good breeding wouldn't of broke so quickly. The body that you harbor is weak. Easily broken. Nothing but mush."

"I'm... I'm juh-ust a k-kid." Lhaklar said hoarsely.

"No excuse," Master Vile said. He signaled for Nygiti to pick Lhaklar up, which he did. "Your excuses won't matter anyways. No one to hear them and no one to care. You're done. Washed up; it's too bad that your father isn't here. I'd of enjoyed seeing him not being able to help you. He thinks nothing special of you. You're his son and that is all. He's ashamed of you and of them brat-brothers of yours."

"Y-y-y-you lie!" Lhaklar gasped. "My dad loves me and my brothers—that's why he's here!"

"Just paternal feelings. That's all he harbors towards you three freaks." Master Vile said as he took a long knife out of his pants. "Now, out of the pure darkness of my heart, I ask if there are any last words before I severe your life-strands and make your puny existence become null and void?"

At the same time that he was wishing that he had stayed home, his life flashed in front of his eyes. He saw himself being born; being held in his mother's, and then his father's, arms. He saw himself being cared for by his parents. He saw himself being disciplined for things that he had done by his parents then he saw himself being taken to Earth with his siblings. He saw his school years. He remembered the jokes that he and Bile made when they were in private when they were students at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. He remembered sitting in the way back of the visitor bleachers cheering Bile on as he ran his track meets and he remembered going up to congratulate him after he won each of the meets that he had participated in. He remembered cheering Bile on when he had his wrestling meets. He remembered and he saw himself warning his brother to be careful before each of them meets. All of this either flashed in front of his eyes or he remembered it as the silver blade of the long knife was pulled back.

This was below fair; he didn't deserve this and he didn't want this but what could he do? He was beaten. His opponent had beaten him down and he now had his life in his hands; there was no use in begging for mercy. His begging would fall on deaf ears. His attacker had marked him for death long before he was born and now he had him. His goose was cooked. He was a goner. He wished that his mother was there; he wished that he could see her one last time. He wished that he could speak his love of her one final time and he wished that he could hear her speak to him once more before he went to where the dead ones went.

His body shook violently as he shook his head; the knife that was pulled back was stationary for only a second before pistoning forward. He clamped his eyes shut; it was a coward's way out by closing one's eyes when death either stares them in the face or is coming for them and he knew it, but he didn't want to see what was about to happen. He didn't want to see the knife plunge into him. He didn't want to see blood pool around the handle of the blade and he didn't want to see the further pleasure that his attacker would have in knowing that he had finally taken him out. One instance of pain, he told himself. He'd feel pain, then he'd feel all floaty, then he'd just black-out and die. He had just convinced himself of this when he heard a scream. He felt something smack into him then he felt himself falling backwards. Something heavy fell on him before he could open his eyes. The chance of opening his eyes, to take in what was going on around him, was never allowed to him. Something slammed home in his gut and groin with such force that he lost consciousness.


	30. Chapter 30

It was a flash-like thing; one minute, he was getting ready to congratulate his employer on a job well done on offing one of his competitors sons, and the next, he was fighting and then running for his life. His co-workers fled in almost perfect sync with him two minutes later; there was really no contest in staying in the area where their employer was doing another furious battle in. The one that fought him, and his co-workers, had made it clear that not only were they not welcome in the area but that they were also risking their lives if they remained where they were.

As he made his escape, he wondered where they came from. It had just been him, the kid, his co-workers, and their employer in the area. No one else was in the area but they. The two beings had just shown up out of nowhere and they had pretty much made a meal of them in nothing flat.

The two beings, both of the Zetakin race, and both male, had charged out from the bushes at the last second before his employer's long knife had entered the kid's stomach right above the naval. If not for the two Zetakin men, the kid would of been killed. One of his vital organs would of been punctured and he would of bled to death. Now, thanks to them damn Zetakin men, the kid would probably survive... or would, seeing as the two Zetakin men that showed up were related to him. He could of cursed himself silly and raw over the situation; victory so close, yet spoiled by people that were either just passing by or had somehow been alerted to the situation. While he didn't think that the two men were contacted or alerted to what was happening, he did think that they were passing by. One of the men had some hunting equipment—a rifle—with him. As he ran, he heard a blast from a gun go off behind him. He stopped for only a second, wanting to go back to help his employer, but not quite daring to do so. After taking a little while to consider the situation, he turned then fled into the forest. He teleported at the same time that one of the two men was turning Lhaklar over.

"Lhaklar!" Amadh Ubalki said breathlessly. "Lhaklar! M'nephew, Lhaklar!"

As his brother dealt with the man, who was assaulting the youngster that was in front of him, he lightly shook Lhaklar until he got a mild reaction—a groan—out of him. Amadh couldn't believe what he and his brother had come upon and he was sick to his stomach over what could of happened hadn't he and his brother of not rushed out from the forest when they had.

Master Vile, the man who left their camp in such a huff, was swinging his fists at something pretty mightily but neither he nor his brother had known who it was until the one that he was punching fell to the ground. He and his brother's jaws had dropped in shock over seeing Lhaklar, their young nephew, who was missing for nearly a year. Them jaws of theirs had snapped shut after Master Vile kicked at their young nephew; their anger had grown to dangerous proportions after one of Master Vile's staff picked their nephew up from the ground.

The bushes, that were in front of them, were flattened after they rushed out at the man after he took a long knife out from his pants. The knife was shooting towards the tender part of their young nephew's stomach when his brother used his Telekinetic powers to slow it up. They slammed themselves into the towering, six foot, five inch man right when he noticed that something wasn't right; the man dropped the knife after they collided with him. Lhaklar was also dropped.

Efagti Izorot Ubalki, his brother, who was twelve thousand, four hundred, and forty-seven years older than he, was beating Master Vile to a pulp a short distance away. Efagti's fists were raining on the man, who was a little over three inches taller than he; judging by the bright sheen that was on his brother's fists, and by Master Vile's pained screams, he guessed that his brother had covered his fists in a coating of acid. He and Efagti had flattened Master Vile to his stomach then had started in on him; his attentions were derived by Master Vile's minions, after he noticed them coming towards him and his brother. He went after them while his brother had squared off with the man, who was about to use a knife to mortally injure their young nephew.

The Claydo, the two Goteian or "goat-like" beings, and the Lizaird or "lizard-like" being had fought him savagely, but he had taken them all on with no trouble. The flesh from his bicep on down to the wrist of his left arm was broken open and he either had a "bite-wound", or a deep puncture, to his right thigh, but he was fine; he was more concerned over Lhaklar's well-being than his own right now. As his brother beat Master Vile back—as his brother cursed, then ran the man who was about to claim their young nephew's life away—he pressed his index and middle fingers down over the little place on his nephew's neck that was above his collar bone.

"Please, please, please, please, please be breathing!" he thought as he searched for a pulse.

There was so much blood on his nephew's body! The gash that was on the right side of his young nephew's head was open; it looked to of healed maybe an inch and a quarter, but it also looked like it was re-opened by whatever transgressed between him and his attacker before he and his brother had found them. There was a deep laceration to his chest; it ran from left to right and it was bleeding very badly. The cut to his nephew's right shoulder was a deep one; either someone had taken a bite out of him—the one who possibly took a bite out of him, perhaps?—or someone landed a blow hard enough to break the skin and muscle tissues open. His nephew's face was all busted and broken—probably from Master Vile, or from one of Master Vile's staff punching him—and his stomach and ribs were turning a dark green color. He couldn't tell if his nephew could walk but, judging by the angle of his nephew's right ankle, his nephew might have a broken ankle.

He pressed his fingers against the soft meat of his nephew's neck at the same time that Master Vile turned and then started making his way back towards them. He watched as Efagti leaped onto the man's back as he waited for the soft beat of a pulse to be felt. Efagti had just wrapped his acid-laced hands around Master Vile's head when he noticed that his nephew wasn't breathing; Lhaklar was breathless. He wasn't breathing. Either he needed someone to help him to breath or he was—gulp—dead.

He sat there, on his knees, for a second or two. Wondering what to do. Panic-stricken and momentarily stunned beyond belief over what he had stumbled upon only minutes before before the idea of resuscitating his nephew back to life came to him. Efagti had just been thrown from Master Vile's back when he started the process of getting Lhaklar's mouth open; his brother had just popped up like a jack-in-the-box when he latched on and began puffing air into their nephew. Lhaklar's chest heaved up; when he backed off, his nephew's chest dropped. He tried twice more and got the same result so, on the fourth try, he stayed on for a little while before he felt a little "jump" happen. There was a whistle—a pained one, but a noticeable one—then his nephew went quiet; when he checked to see if his nephew was breathing, he found that he was... He was alive! He was breathing again, but very shallowly.

"Efagti! Forget that fool!" he shouted at his brother as he grabbed Lhaklar up from the ground. "Teleport! Teleport now before—"

The footage that Cäcilia Maus and Emmerich Heidenreich, the two people that were in the AO12 news van, that was stopped after they saw what was going on between Lhaklar and Master Vile, caught nothing of what transgressed between Efagti, Amadh, and Master Vile; the camera that Emmerich Heidenreich was keeping steady had inexplicably died at just that moment, so nothing of what happened between the twosome that turned into a threesome, with a few extras added in for flavor, was recorded. Regardless of how in-complete the footage was, it was taken back to the AO12 News building. It was edited and then slated to be put on the five o'clock news. Before it was even run, it was confiscated. A bunch of men, in black suits, showed up after being tipped off about the footage. They took the footage then left in a big hurry, which left everyone in the AO12 News building in shock. The footage was bused to a building that was called the Blenderblock, that was about three minutes from the Chancellery, at break-neck speed, then it was personally delivered to a short, but decently muscled, Indian man dressed in army fatigues. The man took the footage to his office quickly. His initial reaction to the footage was outrage, while his secondary reaction was dread.

Ajeet Ballal, born in Germany to parents who had immigrated from India about fifty-eight years ago, had never seen such brutality before in his life and he hoped that he would never see it again. He had seen wars, he had seen battle-wounded soldiers that were wounded either on the battlefield or in training, but he had never seen such a beating as the one that was captured on the footage that AO12 News was about to show.

The kid had looked good to go for a while before that one guy with the piece of wood had intervened; the poor kid was subdued and then beaten and he was probably now deceased. The latter assumption made his gut go cold and his mind do somersaults. He had a wife, he had an ex-wife, and he had two sets of children from both of his marriages plus a child from a previous engagement and he also had two grandchildren with another on the way; he'd bet his eye-teeth that the woman who birthed and then mothered the kid who was so viciously attacked would be pulling her hair out from her head if the footage that he just saw was put on the air.

"Master Vile... That damn cretin! I bet his own mutter would be raving mad if she saw this." Ajeet said as he removed the footage from the player that he put it in.

While he didn't know the kid's mutter as well as the president, Stefan Leinart, did, he felt for her. He really did. This terrible thing, that happened some hours ago, was a nice cherry on top of a nice day for her. First, he badgered her with the questions that Bettina Gottlieb, the hard-nosed and often-times bitchy chief of his country's security agency, would of asked her, then, most probably, Bettina had called her to ask them same questions, then Stefan, who, from what he was told, had spoken to her a little after nine in the morning. Miss. Irene had had a hard morning and likely day. Her nerves were probably shot. He was reaching a brown hand up to massage the temples of his head when he remembered that Miss. Irene also had three sick boys at home; she had already been under a lot of pressure and they had added more pressure to that and now this... this footage, and the possibility that she had lost one of her sons... Oh, it was too much to think of and wonder!

He slammed his fist down on the blotter that was on his desk then grabbed his phone's handset; he dialed Stefan's office number quickly then sat back in his chair. A copy of the footage that he just saw was made and it was confiscated with the original—he had it. As he was waiting for his call to be picked up, he pressed the button for his secretary; he thought that Stefan should see it and decide what to do with the situation that had so unkindly landed on their laps. When his secretary came in, he gave her the copy of the footage that he was given. A bunch of polizei officers had also seen what happened between Master Vile and the kid and they had given his office a head's up on the situation. He sent two, well-dressed people out to retrieve the footage and any copies of the footage that was made afterwards. He told his secretary to take the disc that he just gave her to Stefan Leinart's office at once then he sent her off; she be-popped out of his office then went down the hallway. She'd have to leave the Benderblock building to get to the Chancellery, which was just a short two and a half to three minute walk from the building that he and she were in, so Stefan would get the footage in, he hoped, a short five minutes time.

 _"My sons are required to ask for my permission before leaving the safety of the shields, and none of them have been in contact with anyone in that camp, or have been in contact with my father."_ he remembered Miss. Irene saying in one of her answers to one of his many questions.

He wondered if the kid, Lhaklar was his name, was given permission to leave the protection of the shield that was around Elchesheim-Illingen. Miss. Irene had sure sounded sincere in that requirement of her sons'; while her sons had probably left the shield many times without her knowing it he didn't think that they had done anything really bad. They were kids, after all. Teenagers and male ones at that; they were testing the waters, making friends, and, of course, acting all macho towards one another. Girl-children, teenagers included, were more apt to do as their parents told them; male-children were known to be a little more adventuresome and trouble-causing and mischievous. He knew how it went; other than his being a bit of a rebel as a child and teenager, he had two grown sons and daughter, who had gone through them same motions, and a young son and daughter, who had yet to go through them motions. He highly doubted if Lhaklar went out to do anything bad and, in fact, one of the polizists that saw what transgressed between Lhaklar and Master Vile had mentioned that he saw the kid leave the shield with some fishing equipment—a fishing pole, with line, and a basket.

"The GoldKanal is the only lake in Elchesheim-Illingen that can be fished in and it don't really produce anything. One can go there and sit all day without catching a damn thing." he thought as he waited for Stefan to answer the phone. "There's quite a bit of distance between the shield and the lake, too; the kid was probably only looking to do a little fishing in a spot that wasn't only close to the shield but that would also guarantee him something for his travel-troubles."

As he sat there, waiting for his call to be picked up, his eye wandered to the military clock that was on the left side of his desk. The clock said that it was 18:25:09 p.m. which, in non-military time, meant that it was nine seconds past 6:25 p.m.; the kid's mutter had mentioned something about a curfew but she hadn't said anything on when that curfew was. He wondered if the kid was missed at home; it must be heading on that time when he was expected to be back. The footage that was taken from the AO12 News building had shown a clocking of 2:24 p.m. on it; that would mean that the kid had been out of the house for some time now. His mutter was probably worried sick over his not being home. His mutter would probably be calling a few people, friends or acquaintances of hers, to see if they knew where her son was, or people that her son was associated with to see if they had seen him or if he was with them, soon.

While he didn't know Miss. Irene very well, he had a feeling that she was very worried about her son. She was probably contemplating calling the polizei; there was a forty-eight hour time window that needed to happen before a missing person could be declared a missing person. While the polizei might not be able to help her find her son, they might be able to give her a clue as to what happened between her son and the man who had fadered her. It was a dirty, rotten shame that something like this had to happen; the first, halfway decent day, weather-wise, to happen in nearly two weeks and a killing happens. A child taken from his mutter and a villain that can't be apprehended at large. He hated it. He dreaded telling Stefan what he was sending him and he dreaded asking the man what they were going to do and, above all, he dreaded the screaming that Miss. Irene would do after hearing that one of her children was taken from her.

He ran his hand through the hair that was on his head, which had turned a shade grayer that year, at the same time that the thought of how many unsolved murders there were in the books. There were thousands of them; either the murderers had run off and not left any crumbs as to their whereabouts, or they died somewhere en-route to escape, or, quite possibly, they did their homework in performing a perfect, unsolvable crime. While Lhaklar's passing wouldn't be among the ones in the book of unsolved murders, his tale would be included in the book of crimes done by people who couldn't be apprehended. There was no way in hell that Master Vile could be brought in, prosecuted, and then thrown in a jail. It was too risky to find and then arrest the man; he could escape... he could take the shields over his country down. He'd have Germany to add to his Create Hell list then. While he was angry and sad over what happened, he was also bound to his seat in what he could and couldn't do.

He couldn't put Master Vile under lock and key. He couldn't throw him in a jail cell. He couldn't track the man down and then open fire on him. He couldn't do nothing. He felt horrible for that inability; while he'd love to see the likes of Master Vile fall, and while he would love to be the David against the Goliath, he just couldn't do so. It was against code and it could hurt a lot of people if he did so. What cell could hold a man that has magical powers? What prison could hold a man that was six foot, five inches tall, and who was half-skeletal in appearance, and who wielded more power than he should? There were none that he knew of. None on Earth and, maybe, none in the vast space that was the Universe. He was sighing at the same time that his call was being picked up and, coincidentally, at the same time that his secretary was walking down the hallway that his caller's office was on.

"Hello? Whoever this is you best be counting your lucky stars—I was just heading out." his country's president said after picking the phone up.

"In a way, I'm glad and I'm not glad that I caught you." Ajeet said back. "We need to talk. Serious conversation, not pleasure."

"Quit jowlin' my ear and talk then," his country's president said back.

"I sent my secretary to your office about seven minutes ago, she arrive yet?"

"Must be, someone's knockin' on my door." Stefan replied. There was the sound of a door being opened and then shut. "Not only did she just come in, she just handed me a disc."

"Good, want you to watch what's on that disc."

"Is it that important? No offense, Ajeet, but I am required to be home from time to time."

"It is,"

"Deeply?"

"Yes,"

The line went silent for a second then he heard the back-sounds of the footage that he had watched nearly fifteen minutes ago. No sound came from the man that he called but, of course, he figured that none would be heard; Stefan Leinart might be a big and loud man at times but he was also very well-known for being quiet when looking certain things over. One only had to look at the man to know how serious he was when it came to reading over certain documents or things that were dropped on his desk. The man reacted to what he looked over in a very professional manner afterwards; there were only a handful of times where he started shouting and ushering out orders.

Stefan Leinart had had a rough couple of days; he and his entire family had come down with that bug that was going around about four days ago. While his wife and kids were staying inside, battling their flu-bugs, he continued to come into work. The man had an iron will and he must have a mini-pharmacy at home; word around both the Chancellery and the Bendlerblock building claimed that he was coming to work with a small pouch of cold-related medicines safely hidden in his briefcase. While the man wasn't one hundred percent better, he was well enough to attend the meeting that happened eighteen hours ago; Stefan had spent nearly all of the previous day in the Chancellery, conducting business either in his office or in the meeting hall where that meeting was held.

The man went home afterwards for a few hours then he returned to the Chancellery; from what he was told, there were heavy bags under his eyes when he came in to work that day. The man was under a lot of pressure and stress and he was being run ragged, but he didn't seem to want to take time out for getting over his illness. Stefan Leinart had promised in his campaign to be a decent, steadfast, and ordered leader and he was sticking to that promise. He could see why he had won the presidency.

"How long ago did this happen?" Stefan said. There was a pause with each word that he said so he knew that the man was angry.

"A few hours ago—the clock on the footage shows that it happened at 2:24 p.m."

"And it just got to us now!" Stefan nearly shouted. "Is that all to this? The footage stops... it just ends."

"No, there's more to what happened." he replied. "Some polizists were there to see the ending."

"And? Don't just dawdle, or put me on now—this is the son of not only a friend of mine but of my planet's heroine."

"Two other alien beings came in. A fight happened between them and Master Vile and his cohorts." he relayed. "From what I'm told, one of the two aliens fought Master Vile—and pretty damn hard at that—while the other—"

"What happened to Lhaklar?"

"Getting to that, hang tight to your drawers now." Ajeet said back. "The other alien picked him up, they disappeared afterwards."

"Disappeared?"

"According to the man that was interviewed, a bluish cloud or vapor wrapped around the two of them. They were there one second then they were gone the next. The other alien disappeared in a similar fashion."

As he and Stefan spoke, he thought back to the interview report that was included with the footage that he saw; the officers that were in the area, where the kid and Master Vile did their battle in, claimed that two "tall, Gray Alien-type beings" had rushed at Master Vile after the man produced a long knife. They knocked Master Vile over on top of the kid then they started fighting him. One of the two alien beings that were fighting Master Vile had turned to fight Master Vile's cohorts after they started coming forward to defend their employer; after that alien ran Master Vile's minions off, he went over to where Lhaklar was. The alien dropped to his knees after he reached Lhaklar's side.

Both of the men that were interviewed were quite adamant that the alien that went to Lhaklar's side had pried the kid's mouth open a short thirty seconds later then he—the two polizists were quite sure that the alien was a male—dropped down to either kiss or resuscitate him. The two alien beings left the area with Lhaklar's body about two or three minutes later; Master Vile was still in the area at the time—the two polizists claimed that he wasn't happy with the situation. They claimed that he did plenty of yelling and "leg kicking" after the two interlopers made off with the kid that he was trying to kill.

The claim on the kissing or resuscitating thing made him think that the kid had passed away. Why else would anyone—human or otherwise—drop down to plant lips on a being that was lying motionless on the ground anyway? The polizists that were interviewed had said that the fight between Master Vile and the kid was brutal and they also said that the fight between Master Vile and the two, Gray Alien-like beings was of equal brutality; he wondered if the kid had somehow survived or if he died and was then brought back to life by one of the two beings that "rushed out from out of nowhere to attack the menace of Vile"—as one of the polizists had said in his interview. In his mind, he doubted if the kid had made it. The kid might of been strong, and he might of fought hard, but he was beaten pretty badly and everyone—human, alien, or otherwise—had their limits on what they could take before the wires upstairs in the brain decided to unplug themselves or the old pump that was called the heart stopped beating.

The polizists had also said something about a chase; the kid had come out from the forest, that was on the other side of a stretch of road that was called the Rheinstraße 54A, that ran parallel to the Illinger Altrhein. Master Vile was behind him by about six or seven feet. That poor kid hadn't had a good evening; he would bet both of his arms that the kid was terrified out of his wits end and he also bet that the kid had done his ultimate best to reach the safety of the shield that was around the town that his family were safely under. Both of the polizists had said in their interviews that the chase had ended after the kid was tripped up—the interview claimed that both men had seen the kid favoring his right leg so, something had happened to cripple him enough to tip the scales in the evil Vile's favor. He told all of this to Stefan then went quiet; his country's president said nothing for a long time, then there was the sound of a chair creaking forward. For some reason, the muscles, that were in his back, stiffened. He was ready for the order that was about to be given to him before it was even said.

"Meet me near the Rastatter Rheinaue area with a convoy of vehicles—jeeps, tanks, helicopters, etcetera—in less than thirty minutes." his country's president said.

"Miss. Irene?"

"Leave her to me. I'll contact her and brief her on the situation myself." Stefan said. The line then went dead.

Ashaklar's scream, while not as loud as Angel Irene's, when she found out what went down between her father and young son, was loud enough to alert everyone in the Rastatter Rheinaue camp. Her ex-husband, DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit, ran out of his ship after he heard it, while his father, ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, grabbed the handset to his CB radio then started trying to get an answer on what was going on outside. While KurukVile and his wife, Irka, were outside when Amadh teleported in, they were too far away to see what was going on; all they knew at the time was that Amadh had shown up holding a hefty bundle in his arms. TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit was coming out from his ship to investigate the source of the scream at the same time that Ashaklar was ushering her son and young grandson into TazirVile's ship; like KurukVile and his wife, he didn't see much of anything.

About ten minutes after Amadh showed up, a clear cloak settled over TazirVile's ship. It made the large ship go from being fully viewable to invisible in seconds and no one knew the reason for why for hours. The cloak that was put around the ship was taken down some hours later, at around the time that the footage that Cäcilia Maus and Emmerich Heidenreich had taken was confiscated from the AO12 News building; after the ship became visible again, he and the men all flocked over to see what was going on.

His wife and the other women in camp had all decided to remain inside their spouse's ships; the children were forced to remain in-doors by the women, so none of them made the trek over to his brother's ship. The women had all had a sort of feeling that something wasn't right after the invisible cloak settled over his brother's ship. None of them wanted to know what was going on until the men had a chance to check into the situation.

The first thing that he noticed, after he walked into his brother's ship, was the air quality; the air had a rather heavy feeling to it, and it was also quite tense too. The second thing that he noticed, after entering his brother's ship, was the steel-like looks that his brother's staff were giving him. The looks were hard, acusing, and rather cold in origin. He had just started going down the hallway that came off the airlock hatchway doors when his brother suddenly appeared. He had no more noticed his brother standing in the hallway before finding himself being rushed at.

"You best count your days in having that disgrace of an older boy of yours!" his brother snarled in his face, after he flattened him to one of the hallway walls. "I see him again, you can bet on needing a body bag!"

"What..." he said at the same time that his and his brother's father rushed in to separate them. After their father separated them, he looked at his brother; what he saw he didn't much like. "What's going on, Tazir?"

Instead of being told verbally, he was grabbed and then yanked along. His and his brother's father, who had just gotten through entering the ship, didn't have a chance to stop his brother from lunging at or grabbing or lugging him along. He was dragged to a room then thrown in; their father was clipping heels with Tazir the entire time. He picked himself up from the room's floor then he turned around. His brother's face still looked the same; angry, set like a dangerous animal, and rather sunk in around the eyes. After seeing the state of his brother's face, he looked at their father, who was looking past him. After noticing his father's gaze, he turned around. What he saw made the pit of his stomach drop.

He had never seen such a sick being in his life! The room lost its colors, his vision grew blurry, and his legs came close to feeling like rubber after he saw the figure that was lying on the bed; while it took him a while to put a name to the three people that were either standing or sitting around the bed, he was able to place a name on the one that was lying on the bed quickly.

Lhaklar, his young nephew, looked to of been hit by a freight train! His skin, which was normally a mint-green color, was a combination of mint-green, dark green, and pale green; while his nephew wasn't awake, he was active. His eyelids were flickering and fluttering all over the place and his hands were twitching. He spent maybe two minutes in the room before leaving; his brother followed on his heels while their father did nothing more than stand in place. He and his brother spoke in the hallway for all of ten minutes; words that he had never heard his brother say before were spoken and anger that he had never known his brother to possess was expelled. His brother told him everything that he was told. All of what he was told wasn't good. He was still in shock over it.

His oldest son, Vile, had tried to kill not only a young teenager but also his daughter's son. He had tried to kill Lhaklar.

He was numb all over! While he was angry, he couldn't let it out. He could barely move, much less speak at the moment. He knew that Vile didn't like Angel being with Tazir, and he knew that Vile had an intention in the past to take Lhaklar out, but he had believed that all of that intention had run its course. Vile was allowed in Tazir's house once a week when Bile and Lhaklar were infants and then young children. He was around Lhaklar; while he spoke bad of him, he hadn't tried to hurt or kill him. Even when Vile was staying at Tazir's residence earlier that year, he had shown no desire to hurt any of Angel's children. He had spoken bad of them, and he was against their being near Bile, but he hadn't tried to hurt them physically.

From what Tazir told him, Efagti and Amadh came upon his oldest son beating Lhaklar up and, to make matters even worse, Efagti and Amadh both claim that Vile was about to use a long knife on the youngster.

"They were there! They showed the proof! Their memories—Brother! They showed me their memories—they don't lie! That knife that Vile was holding was being thrust forward, right towards my son!" his brother said angrily, his fists clinching and then unclinching with every word.

He was shown the collected memories of Efagti's and Amadh's; them memories had only made him feel more numb. Everything of what he was told was verified by them memories. Vile, accompanied by four of his staff, had assaulted Lhaklar viciously and Vile had, indeed, been about to use a long knife on the youngster.

From what he saw in Amadh's memories, Lhaklar stopped breathing when he reached his side. Amadh was able to resuscitate him; the youngster was still clinging the life when they arrived in camp. Ashaklar had rushed Amadh and Lhaklar to the medical chamber that was in Tazir's ship after they had arrived in camp; Lhaklar was placed on the medical table immediately. He stopped breathing once, for only a minute, then he came back on his own; the medical table had treated many injuries and it had also run a cat scan and a body scan. Lhaklar was lucky to still be alive and his brother was lucky to still have his oldest son.

"I know there were a lot, and that none were good, but... what were the extent of his injuries?" he asked after seeing Efagti's and Amadh's memories.

"The gash that's to the right side of his head looked to of been healing," his brother replied after a moment or two of silence. "The table noted that it went from being four and a quarter inches to three inches long; whatever happened between Vile and my boy, before Efagti and Amadh got there, caused that gash to open to nearly six inches. The table was only able to close the wound; it wasn't able to repair it to what it was before Vile got his hands on him. He also had puncture marks to his middle and lower back—most probably from Vile's fingernails—and he also had three slash-like marks on the back of his shoulders, right below his neck.

"There were many cuts to my boy's face—from Vile's fists, I presume. His lower lip, above and below both eyes, his cheeks, his chin, and his forehead were cut and bleeding. His right shoulder was very badly injured; looked like someone—Vile, I again presume—either took a bite out of him or hit him with something hard enough to break through not only all three layers of skin but also through muscle tissue. His right ankle was broken and his left leg was shattered. He had a bad laceration to his chest as well—looked like something sharp, like a knife or a sharp fingernail, caused it. One of his testicles was also badly bruised—either he was kicked badly down there or someone decided to multi-punch his groin region."

"The table fix all that or—"

"Was able to fix some of it; his leg's not shattered or even broken anymore and his ankle is the way it was before Vile set his sights on him." his brother responded quickly. "The punctures to his back were fixed like new, and his testicle isn't bruised anymore; it's just that ugly shoulder wound, head-gash, and chest wound that weren't able to be repaired fully. He still has them."

"He must of run a good race before Vile grabbed him," Cheshire Ubalki, who was just now coming from the room that Lhaklar was in, said. "The table showed that his lungs were put under a lot of stress prior to the chest-wound being given. He was run and hard, point blank."

"The table also showed that his muscles were under a lot of stress too," TazirVile said. "He didn't just run—my boy fought, and pretty damn hard too."

The youngster was given a mild sedative to keep him sleeping and calm after the table finished its work; he was moved to the room that he was currently still in then he was given an IV drip—a precautionary thing, since the boy was run so hard and since he was so badly injured. It was a miracle that his young nephew was able to survive the ordeal that he had with his oldest son; Vile had come within a quarter of an inch of killing him. He'd be getting on his knees and doing plenty of praying that night, he had a feeling. After being given the scoop on his nephew, then going into the room to take up one of the available seats that were placed around the peacefully sleeping boy, he took his cellular out then started tapping out a messege to his wife.

While he told his wife about Lhaklar and his many injuries, he didn't tell her who it was that caused him to be so badly injured. It was no shock to him that, when his wife responded to his text message, she said something about her thinking that Lhaklar's attacker was the dark-skinned guy. Sadly, she was very wrong on that thought. He honestly didn't know how to break it to her that her own son was the one to harm Lhaklar. The dark-skinned man wasn't the culprit with this one. Vile was.

His cause for being so numb wasn't fully centered on Vile injuring Lhaklar; it was the fact that he and his wife had three young children that could be in the exact same position that Lhaklar was in. If Vile could go so far as to injure Lhaklar, a kid that was in the same age group as his and his wife's three young children, what said he wouldn't go after someone else that was Lhaklar's age? Baruk was born shortly after Lhaklar; he was born in the same bed, right beside Angel, just minutes after Lhaklar was born. If Vile was so apt to hurt one so young, then who said he wouldn't go after another and who said that the next one that he targeted was one of his younger siblings? Vile had a history of familial killing; he killed his older, half-sister, Azone, after he captured her and her older sister, Dione, after they came against him for Gamma Vile and the M-51 Galaxy's freedom. Who said that he wasn't going to try to add more to the list of family members that he had killed?

Except for his wife and their young children, and most of the other women and the other young children that were in camp, everyone was around Lhaklar. His father was seated at the boy's head; he had a grave look on his face. Ashaklar and Cheshire were on Lhaklar's right; they also had grave looks on their faces. Efagti and Amadh were seated at the far side of the room with Qeeta; his grandfather was on his left while Trobrencus was seated behind him. In the ten minutes that he and his brother were talking outside of the room, Lhaklar's hands had stopped twitching; his eyelids were the only things on his body that were moving now. His breathing was easy; there was no whistle or miss in his breathing, which was good. A member of Tazir's staff, from time to time, would peek into the room, but they mostly stayed out of the way. He was sure that they were just as concerned as everyone else was about the youngster.

"Lhaklar?" Cheshire said. Everyone stirred then looked at him at once. Cheshire paid no mind to anyone in the room; he just stretched his hand forward. He took Lhaklar's hand slowly and carefully into his own. "Could of swore that he moaned for a second there."

"The shot that he was given would of lasted a few hours. It should be wearing off soon." TazirVile said. KurukVile noticed that his brother was fighting to keep himself from placing his hand on his son's shoulder.

Before he opened his eyes, he knew that he was alive and he also knew that he had some sort of company around him; whether they were of the violent or benevolent type he didn't know and, at the moment, he didn't really care. He wasn't brain-dead. He could think like always, and he remembered all of what happened between he and Master Vile fully. When he opened his eyes, he automatically started searching the room that he was in, but not for what his father, who jumped to his feet, hooping and hollering for joy, thought he was searching for.

The room that he was in had light blue walls; it looked like there was either dark blue or medium-blue carpet on the floor. The ceiling looked to be either a baby blue or a light blue color. The bed that he was on was right soft; the pillows, that were under his head, were also soft. The sheets, that were on his body, were white; he found that eerily strange, since most of the room was done in a blue motif.

There was a light blue side table, that had two drawers on it, to his right, beside the bed; the only thing that was on its surface was a spiral lamp that had a white lampshade on it. There was another light blue table to his left; this one was bare, and it had no drawers on it. A long, light blue fainting couch was to the far right of the room; his uncles, Efagti and Amadh, and his aunt, Qeeta, were sitting on it. The thing that he was searching for was to the far left of the room; it was a clock and it said that it was 7:35 p.m.—he had missed curfew! His mother was going to give his ass a royal kicking for not before home before curfew! He took in nothing more of the room; not the chairs that Uncle Kuruk, or his grandparents, or his great-grandfather, or Trobrencus were sitting in, and he didn't notice the excited antics of his father or of Granddad Cheshire. He took in just the clock and the fact that there was a pained pressure to his left wrist.

He looked at his wrist after he noticed the pained pressure feeling. There were two lines coming out from it; they had either a clear or a bluish fluid in them. He looked at the lines for only a second before ripping his arm back and then to the side. He felt a moment of pain as the lines ripped his wrist open; when he tried to get up, he found a pair of firm hands press down on him.

"Whoa, whoa there Lhakie!" TazirVile said after his son ripped the IV lines from his arm. He forced his son down then found himself having to fight his son to keep him down on the bed.

"It me or has he gotten stronger?" Cheshire asked after going to help TazirVile keep his son down on the bed.

"According to the table, he gained ten pounds." TazirVile said. He looked at Cheshire. Their eyes said it all on what they were thinking; Cheshire had said that Lhaklar had looked to of been between five and ten pounds underweight when he saw him at the fair that Tazir's MoHunds had led them to on the 23rd of October when, in reality, he had gained ten pounds over what he was in January. Lhaklar was a hundred and eighty pounds in January; while he looked much the same in appearance, his arms had definitely gotten bigger. He had a lot more muscle in his arms now.

"What in the Universe have you been up to?" Cheshire said softly. He grabbed Lhaklar quickly when he rolled off the bed. "Tazir! Give him a sedative or something, he's going to hurt himself if—"

TazirVile had just pulled the drawer of the light blue side table that was on his side of the bed open when his ship suddenly and inexplicably lurched to the side. He yelled in shock as he was thrown over the bed like a rag doll then, when he realized that the bed was vacant its patient, he looked up. Cheshire and Lhaklar had obviously been thrown across the room after the ship lurched; either they had lost their footing afterwards or it was just Cheshire who had fallen to the floor. Lhaklar, TazirVile saw, was up. He was running towards the room's open doorway.

"Lhaklar!" he yelled at his son's backside. He twisted his body around when he saw that his son wasn't stopping; as he worked feverishly to untangle the sheet from around his legs, his ship lurched for a second time.

He had wasted no time in getting up after being thrown to the floor; the hand, that settled over his ankle, had no chance to get a good grip on him before he ran towards the open doorway of the room that he found himself in. He was only mildly aware that he had nothing but a pair of dark gray briefs on as he made his way across the room; he felt a hand grab his arm right when he reached the room's open doorway then, for whatever reason, the one who grabbed him suddenly released him. He ran out of the room quickly then made a turn.

"Lhaklar!"

Even though his father's roar was a loud one, he had no intention of stopping or in going back to the room that he had found himself in; the only thought that ran through his head was of his getting out of the ship and then going home, to where he'd probably find a very angry mother waiting for him.

As he ran down the dim hallway, that the room that he found himself in was on, he thought of what would happen after he walked in through his family's house's front door. He'd probably get no more than a foot in the door before finding himself charged at; his mother had probably sat herself down on either the loveseat or the couch sometime after seven. He imagined her having either a rolled up newspaper or a heavy-duty dish towel on her lap; she'd either use her words on him first or she'd start swatting the newspaper or the dish towel at him after he walked in through the front door. He'd try to get out what happened—he'd try to explain why he hadn't come home before curfew—then he'd probably just drop to his knees and beg for mercy. He had just imagined his mother's angry, yet fear-and-relief filled, eyes when he came upon a section of hallway that had three other hallways branching from it.

He stopped when he reached the three-way intersection. He looked at the three hallways for a second or two before deciding to go down the one that went to the right. He had just started going down that hallway when the ship lurched again.

"Omph!" a gust of wind lasped out from him after he and the Goblin, who was in the hallway that he decided to go down, landed on one another. He shook his head twice to get rid of the faint fuzzy feeling that he was feeling then he got up from the floor that he found himself lying on. While the ship throbbed and vibrated around him, he ran. He ran down two hallways, then made a turn into another, before stopping; all the while he was running down this hallway and then the next he had felt a weight trailing behind him. The Goblin that he was thrown against had obviously grabbed a-hold of him and he had obviously been dragging the poor man the entire time he was running.

He got rid of the Goblin in the nicest of ways by simply shaking him off and then shoving him away from him; he ran down the hallway once he was free of the Goblin's grip. The Goblin that he dragged down two hallways chased him for all of two minutes before stopping, he had no idea where he went or why he stopped and he really didn't care as to where he went or why he stopped either; he had just turned onto a dark hallway when he heard his father yelling for him. The ship lurched twice after his father yelled for him then it started to shake violently; while he didn't know what was going on, he didn't really want to stick around to find out. He saw stars, then came close to blacking out after being thrown against one of the dark hallway's walls for a second, then ran off at a much slower pace.

"Mom'll do backflips when she sees all the bruises on me after I get home," he thought as he ran down two more hallways. He stopped after he ran down them two hallways; while he was breathing heavily, he wasn't breathing painfully and he felt that he had a ways to go before running fatigue hit him. The reason why he had stopped was pretty basic—he had nowhere to go. He had run himself into a dead end.

A latched, heavy steel door was in front of him, he was thinking about trying to throw the door open when he heard his father and grandfather shrieking orders; his father was yelling for the ship to be secured while, from the sound of things, Granddad Cheshire was yelling for him to either stop or to come back. Without further ado, he grabbed the latch that was on the door. He ripped the latch up then he threw his body against the door. The door screeched when he tried to open it the first time; it refused to budge at first then, after he threw himself at the door again, it gave way with a protestingly loud scream. He was nearly spilled out into the too-hot night after the door opened. He stumbled once after leaving his father's ship then, after regaining his footing, he started to run.

"There! One running out from the back of the ship!"

The helicopters that were flying above were pelting the kite-shaped ship to oblivion with all sorts of small-range bombs; the two arsenal tanks were also adding their punch to the fight; while the two hundred souls that were on the ground were either just standing around or were down on their stomachs with their arsenal at the ready to be used. He was at the helm of one of the three jeeps that were driven to the front of the reserve. Both he and Ajeet were tuned in well to their surroundings and they were both wearing headsets, so nothing of what was said went unnoticed.

It had taken a little longer than he had liked for them to get it all together; he had said for everything and everyone to be in the area in under thirty minutes, it had taken a near hour for everything and everyone to be in the area and ready. While he was frustrated over that, he was happy with the results of what was going on. The ship wasn't badly damaged—in fact, it looked barely touched—, but it was reacting to the many blows that were being thrown at it and, from what he had just heard, someone had come out from its back. There were men stationed all around the ship, so the one who ran out from the ship would either be picked up or disposed of; while he doubted that it was Lhaklar who ran out from the back of the ship, he had made sure that everyone in the group knew what the kid looked like. Miss. Irene would blow her top if her son was shot at or wounded by one of his men.

They were taking a big chance in this mission; they were vulnerable, due to their concentrating on just the kite-shaped ship. If any of the other aliens that owned the other ships, that were in the area, started shooting at them, they'd be done for. No one was watching their backs; everyone's attentions were drawn towards the kite-shaped ship. His and Ajeet's included. The night had given them some cover, and they were all wearing black, so that was allowing them some cover... or, it had. Their positions were explossed thanks to the light that was coming off the bombs that were striking the ship.

He heard bullets being fired; from his headset, he heard muffled curses and shouts. He wondered who was being shot at for only a second before he thought of something else.

Miss. Irene was what took over his thoughts; she had sure flipped her goose after he told her what happened between her fader and her son. He was probably going to have some problems hearing out of his right ear; she had screamed so loudly into it then she had spoken so incoherently afterwards... the poor woman was a raving mess after he told her what happened. She wanted to fly off to where he currently was to rescue her son; he had managed to talk her out of doing that... barely, that was. She was so hysterical that he was barely able to get his plan out; after telling her his plan, he had found himself being firm on her not joining them. She had wanted to join them. She had wanted her son back bad. After twelve minutes of talking to her, he agreed to have her wait for them near Steinmauern. If his plan went the way he wanted it to, she'd either have a badly injured but living son or her son's body.

"What's going on out there? What's being fired at?" Ajeet was asking into his headset.

"Concentrate on the weak areas—the edges and sides and the door in the front." Stefan said into his headset.

"Mr. Ballall, sir. We have four... no, five beings running about the ship's backside." Stefan heard one of the men that were positioned behind the ship say through Ajeet's headset.

"What's going on back there? What do you see?"

"Speak colors, we know none of the people in this camp." Stefan said into his headset.

"Three of the Gray Alien type; one with light blue skin, another with dark blue skin, and another that has three different shades of green skin. There's also two Troll-like beings running about; one has light blue skin while the other has either near-black or black skin." the man who answered Ajeet's question responded quickly.

"One with three shades of green skin?" Stefan wondered aloud.

"Sir, they're all chasing after the one that has three shades of green sk... scratch that, the Gray Alien-like being that has light blue skin just threw himself at—"

"That's my son you fools!" Stefan tore his headset off. Angel Irene's shriek was so loud that it made his ears ring. He gave his head a quick shake before putting the headset back over his head; prior to his leaving to go to the reserve, where the alien ships were landed in, he promised to give his friend a headset. He had kept that promise. Miss. Irene could hear everything and she could also speak through the headset that he gave her if she wanted to.

"Fire with no mercy! Herd the kid to the north, we'll be waiting for him with the jeep." Ajeet said as he started the military jeep's engine.

He didn't so much throw as himself at his son like the human had said he had. He, more or less, hurled himself at his son with every ounce of strength that he had so, when he collided with his son's backside, they both went flying for a foot or two before coming in contact with the ground. He worked quickly after he had his hands on his son—he grabbed his son around the waist, then he heaved him up, then he gave him a firm shove back towards his ship... which seemed very far away to him.

He had come very close to having a heart attack after hearing that his son was outside, running around in his underwear and being shot at. He was trying to do two things at once after his ship started lurching—getting his ship secured from whatever was happening to it on the outside was a big thing on his mind; he had really done nothing in finding or preventing his son from escaping his ship. All he did in regards to getting his son's attention was yell his name. After hearing his stepfather yelling for his son to come back, he figured that he caught up to him and, maybe, cornered him or was within distance of cornering him; his breath had caught in his throat after he heard that his son had left his ship. He had damn near broke his neck in getting to the rear exit of his ship after hearing that his son was ouside; his stepfather had nearly run him over twice in his plight to the rear exit, but he had managed to keep a step ahead of the man. Cheshire had passed him by after he stepped out from his ship. He had been so terrified, and shocked over what was happening outside his ship, that he stopped dead in his tracks!

Eldass Zultoa and Yonsid Klahigli, the former his oldest and longest kept employer and the latter a newbie in his staff, were running after his son, who was streaking in a zig-zag fashion all over the place. Eldass was wielding a wand at the time. He was using a spell to repell the bullets that were fired in his, Yonsid's, and Lhaklar's direction away; Yonsid was just running after his son. It was a miracle that he hadn't been shot, as the humans in the area were firing their weapons maniacally at both him, Eldass, and his son. After he got over his shock, he tore off in pursuit of his son. He deflected around fifty or so bullets in the pursuit, and he was knicked twice on the arm by bullet-shrapnel, but he wasn't harmed; after chasing his son for neary ten yards, he decided to leap at him. A bullet had just barely missed hitting his son at the time so, the decision was a good one and it had also paid off well. He had his son. He had him caught now so all he had to do was deflect the bullets that were fired at them as they made their way back towards the ship.

"Head back to the sh—"

The thought of what he was going to do after he and his son, Eldass, Yonsid, and Cheshire returned to the relative safety of his ship went unfinished as a torrent of bullets flew around him and his son. He acted on instinct alone in grabbing his son, who had jumped back to avoid the bullet that had come close to hitting him on the leg; he grabbed him then threw him down to the ground hard. He dove down on him afterwards. He had never seen nor gone through such a mess as this before in his life and he hoped that he would never have to see or go through another mess like this again! The battlefield was no place for a child, even one as well muscled as his son was, to be running around or playing in. When three bullets struck him, made him roll off his son, he grew angry; he stood up then turned towards the line of fire. He shot his arms out at the bullets that were coming in his and his son's direction; they melted almost at once, after the acid that he threw at them met-up with them. When a second and third wave of bullets started coming in his and his son's direction, he said a spell that caused them to be redirected to a different location that was a safe distance away.

When his son moved to the side, he quickly re-positioned himself—so that he was standing over him. Unless to keep himself standing over his son, he didn't move his lower half. His arms were what he kept moving.

"Eldass! Yonsid!" he yelled at the two men who were chasing after his son before he had even left his ship; the two men, who were actually on their way back to his ship, stopped then snapped their heads in his direction quickly. "Take my son back to the ship!"

A bullet zipped by his left arm; he turned in that direction then sent a volley of acidic and air attacks at the people that were either shooting while standing or shooting while lying on the ground. He found himself turning in Eldass's and Yonsid Klahigli's direction after they started running towards him and his son. Yonsid's luck seemed to of run its course at just that moment. He had just started turning in his and Lhaklar's direction when four bullets struck him. Yonsid's legs buckled underneath him; he collapsed to his side hard. Eldass deflected some of the bullets that were being fired at him with his wand then, after his wand went flying from his hand, he dropped to the ground then started run-crawling forward. He melted or deflected as many bullets as he could before noticing that the line of fire had ceased behind him. He turned after noticing that there were no bullets being fired at his backside; his stepfather raced forward and then past him after he managed to turn a quarter of the way around.

Cheshire, he saw, had several gunshot wounds to him, but he was still going and fit. The man ran right past him before he had a chance to figure out what was going on. He saw the reason for his stepfather's mad dash after he finished turning around; his son had gotten to his feet sometime after the firing had ceased at his backside. Lhaklar was running at break-neck speed towards a jeep, that had two humans in it, that were aiming two large rifles in his direction.

"Lhaklar!" he yelled. How many time had he yelled his son's name in the last five minutes? He couldn't remember and, really, did it matter? Yelling was old hat; he either needed to stop yelling and start fighting or go back to his ship.

The two humans, males by the looks of them, opened fire at the same time; Lhaklar banked to the left at the last second then something happened to make him fall. His son fell to his side hard then bounced back up; Cheshire yanked himself in the direction that Lhaklar had gone in then ran flat-out towards him. A cascade of bullets whizzed by him; they either missed him by a mile or by a small fraction of an inch. He was just nearing Lhaklar when a bullet went through his leg; right above his knee. Lhaklar, TazirVile saw, ran on for a another yard or two before having his legs fly out from under him. TazirVile watched as his son slowly got up from the ground. He watched as his son hobbled forward on one leg then he watched as his son went towards the jeep. His son had just reached the jeep when his shock and paralysis broke.

TazirVile held his arms out as he ran forward; he spread his arms at the same time that the two people that were in the jeep shot at him. The ground under the jeep split evenly down the middle. The jeep tottered for just a second before one of the people that were in it disappeared. The jeep's engine started. The jeep was moved to one of the sides of the split ground at the same time that his son leaped into the back. He was making the ground where the jeep was moved to split when a cloud of dust went up; the jeep's tires screamed and sent up chunks of sod as the one at the wheel gunned it. The front end of the vehicle whirled around; the vehicle came close to nose diving into the hole that his first ground splitting had created for a second or two before it nosed away.

He was getting ready to make the ground around the jeep fall when three bullets struck him; the bullet that went into his left hip hurt the most of the three, but the two that entered his left thigh were the ones that made him fall. He slid along the hard ground for a second before pushing himself to his knees. When he tried to get to his feet, he found that he couldn't—his left leg wasn't working like it should. The vehicle that his son had gotten in disappeared in a cloud of dust right after he fell; he had no chance to see where it went. The one who was at the vehicle's wheel had gotten out of the area in a hurry.

"Clear! Clear the area—we're done here!" he heard a radioed voice say to his left. When he looked over in that direction, he saw nothing more than a bunch of dark shadows running off. There was a buzzing sound above him; when he looked up, he saw that two, big, bulky crafts were flying away. The area grew very quiet and still after the two flying crafts flew off. He looked at the area around him for only a second before dropping his head down to the ground.

He had his son. He had cared for his son; he had worried about his son; and now he was sonless. The only logical thing that he could come up with about the situation that he had just experienced was that his son had gotten scared; when the ship started getting attacked, he had gotten scared and then ran off to find some place that he thought was safe. The only thing that he couldn't figure out was the fact that his son, who was so badly injured, and who might now be sporting a few gunshot wounds, and a fresh injury to one of his legs, had run to the enemy; his son had gotten into the jeep and the jeep had taken him away. Why? Surely, his son knew better than to run to the enemy and, surely, his son knew that it was wiser to stick around an adult when a situation gets hairy. Could his son of been that badly terrified or was there something else going on that he didn't know of? He kept his head down on the ground for a few seconds before picking it up. He struggled to his feet with this question still fresh on his mind. After getting to his feet, he hobbled over to his stepfather; Cheshire had taken his belt off after the jeep left the area. He was busily wrapping it around his left leg, right above his knee.

"Step—"

"I suggest that you quit billy bullshitting around and get to the bottom of what's going on here!" Cheshire roared at him after he spoke to him. "That was _not_ called for! Lhaklar should _not_ of reacted or run off like that and them people should _not_ of been here! Something's not right and _both_ you and I _know_ it!"


	31. Chapter 31

The ad that was put in the local newspaper on the morning of November the 24th had simply said that a hologram concert, headlined by a local, new age, rock n' roll band that called themselves Das Überholen, was to be held in a venue in the independent city of Pforzheim, that was about forty-three minutes from his family's resident town. The ad claimed that the concert was to be run from 9 p.m. to midnight and it also claimed that, due to the venue's size, only two thousand would be allowed to see the concert. He came close to screaming after seeing who the main performers were; he had been a fan of Godsmack, Disturbed, Judas Priest, and Ozzy Osbourne for a number of years and he had only seen them bands play three times each. He was tickled pick when he saw that them bands were playing in a concert that was to be held so close to home; while he had gotten an itch to see the concert, he was too damn nervous to ask his mother for permission to go to it so, instead of going up to her and then asking if he could go, he just threw the ad, that he meticulously cut from the page that it was printed on, in the trash.

He had spent half of the day that he threw the ad in the trash either in the room that his mother called the "Son Cave", pumping iron, trying to regain what his near-two week long flu had taken from him in muscle mass, or in his room. His heart was broken when he threw that ad in the trash; he did his best to quell that pain by keeping himself busy with either working out or by blasting his mini stereo. When he and his brothers were called down to the kitchen at around noon, he figured that they were just being call down for lunch; he hadn't given it a second thought about his mother rummaging through the trash or of her finding the ad that he threw away.

Lunch was fifteen minutes late in being handed out; once he and his brothers reached the room, they did nothing more than stand and stare at either their feet or at one of the walls.

"Speak up, I'm not asking a difficult question here." their mother said on that day, which happened two days ago. The ad that he threw away earlier that day was spread out on the dining room table; except for the tell-tale crumple lines, and the bottom edges being damp, it was in good condition. It took him a little while to confess to throwing the ad out; his mother hadn't looked a bit surprised over it being he who threw it away.

After taking his sweet time in answering the question on why the ad was thrown away, he went to the chair that he frequently sat in when he ate his meals. Lunch, on that day, had consisted of hamburgers and french fries; they ate their meal in silence then they went in separate directions. He was on his way back upstairs when his mother asked him to stay at the table. He did as she had asked of him with no lip or mumble or groan or sigh. His heart had come close to stopping afterwards.

"You don't have to stop living because of your brother's punishment, you know." his mother said a few seconds later.

"I know," he mumbled.

"You don't have to tip-toe around me, or act nervous around me, or be afraid to ask me anything. I'm your mother, I'm not a monster." she said. His chin had found itself in the palm of her hand a few seconds later. "I'm not a big fan of digging things out of the trash, Bile. I had a feeling that that ad meant something to someone in the house; the fact that it was cut out from the paper only emphasized that."

"Ma—" his mother had held a finger up; silencing him from saying anything more.

"If you want to go to that concert, ask me. Since it's a distance from here, and since it's safely under one of my shields, you can go to it." his mother said. A wide smile had spread across her face when she saw how bright his eyes had become.

"Can I go?" he asked.

"As long as you come home after the concert ends. Yes, you can. You've got my permission." she said.

The concert that he got permission to go to was just twenty minutes over; it was more than what he had bargained for! The local band, Das Überholen, had owned the stage for all of an hour then the other bands that were on the ad had come on. Godsmack, an American alternative metal band, that formed in 1995, was awesome. Fireworks went off around the stage when the band started playing "Straight Out of Line"; a colored smoke came from the stage's back when the band started playing "Voodoo"; then the venue's lights were dimmed when the band started playing "Hollow".

A band that wasn't mentioned in the ad, and that he had never heard of before, had come on next; even though he wasn't a fan of them bands that sang incoherent lyrics, he had joined in on the excited antics of the concert-goers around him. Ministry, who introduced themselves as an American Industrial metal band that formed in 1981, had rocked the house from start to finish. The bands that he was looking forward to seeing had come on next. The near-3D hologram image of Disturbed had come close to bringing the roof down. Fireworks went off around the stage several times; colored smoke came out from the stage's back a few times; and the hologramic image of David Draiman leaped into the crowd for a surfing adventure. The Music Gods themselves, Judas Priest and Ozzy Osbourne, came on next; he couldn't remember how many encores the latter three bands did but he did know this—he was damn happy with how the concert was handled.

The sound, the lighting, and the pyrotechnics were great; the hologramic images of the bands that were no longer around were so convincing that he came close to thinking that they had all come back from the dead; and the crowds were ecstatic. There were many surfers riding the hands of the concert patrons—he came close to joining in on that but, with a lot of effort, he kept his feet down on the venue's concrete floor.

The ticket stubs that he and his brother were given, after they reached the beginning of the line, were still in his wallet; both had cost him nearly €40 each but, in his mind, that price was well worth it.

"Dude! Tha-k-t _was_ great! Are they always like that? Do they _always_ use fireworks, and _that_ colored smoke, and are they _always_ tha-k-t loud?" a very excited Guyunis asked after they teleported home from the little ice cream, smoothie, and milkshake parlor that they visited after leaving the venue that the concert was held in.

"No," Bile replied as he started searching for his house keys. "Sometimes, they're better."

"Better? Wha-k-t's better than that?" Guyunis asked.

"Some concerts have more lighting, and pyrotechnics, and are a little bit louder; I went to one a few years ago where the entire stage caught fire."

"Caught fire?"

"It was part of the show—Rammstein was playing at the time."

"Wish they would of brought tha-k-t band out at the concert." Guyunis mused. "They're loud."

"They're a kick-ass band. Maybe the next concert that we go to will have them in the line-up." Bile said as he took his house keys out from his left side pants pocket.

He thought of how glad he was about being healthy again as he pushed his house key into the keyhole of the door knob that was on the door of the house that he and his family lived in; nearly two weeks of sneezing, hacking, snorting, coughing, of feeling weaker than a baby, and of feeling downright miserable... He absolutely hated being sick! The first week and five days of the month were horribly cruel for him, but... at least he had someone to make miserable during the last five days of his illness.

His mother had taken a step back from being his and his two brothers' primary caregiver during their illnesses two weeks and four days ago; Lhaklar, the holder of that year's longest-given punishment, was given the chore of being their primary caregiver on the ninth of November. He still couldn't believe what went down between his brother and his father; it was unreal yet surreal and he didn't want to believe that it happened but he also couldn't deny that it happened. Lhaklar had made the decision to leave the protection of the shield that was around their resident town to go fishing in one of the cut-off river arms; from what he was told, his brother had caught some fish, then had sent them caught fish home, then had started heading home himself, only to find himself in trouble afterwards.

Dark Dad had tried to kill his brother... After chasing him through the forest, that was around the river arm that his brother was fishing in, he caught and then tried to kill him. How Lhaklar was able to stay in front of the man, and how he managed to survive after being caught, was beyond him. He was glad that the attempt on his brother's life wasn't successful; while his brothers drove his crazy from time to time, he couldn't see himself living life without them. While the details on why his father's attempt on Lhaklar's life didn't go through weren't known, he did know that his brother was taken to the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve and then to his adoptive father's ship after the attack occurred; Mr. Leinart and some man named Ajeet Ballal went to retrieve him some hours after Dark Dad's assault happened.

As he stepped into his family's dark and quiet house, he remembered the fact that he didn't know the details of what happened at the Rastatter Rheinaue camp. His mother had said nothing on the happenings at the place; she had just come home some hour to two hours later with Lhaklar, who was wearing nothing more than a hospital robe. Lhaklar was told to go upstairs—to his room—after being brought home. He did so obediently. The first lengthy punishment of the year was received sometime prior to their coming home. Lhaklar was given a month-long grounding that started immediately the next day.

"Shhh, be quiet now. Ma and the bros are sleeping." Bile said after walking into the house. "Don't slam that door. Close it lightly."

"K," Guyunis said back. The door clicked almost silently behind him. The door's lock produced a barely audible click a second later.

"I suggest that, if you have anything of your shake left, you either take it to your room or put it in the fridge for later." Bile said. He glanced at the clock, that was in the hallway that they were in, quickly then decided to change what he had said. "Scratch the last part of what I just said, bro. It's—"

"You're late."

They were quick to notice that she was dressed in nothing more than her usual, purple cotton nightgown when she walked around the corner. Her hair was straight and looked to be oddly combed; with it being the hour that it was, her hair, they both thought, shouldn't look so neat or tidy. They took an automatic step back when she turned to look at them. Bile was quick to think of the third milkshake that he purchased from the parlor that he and his brother went in after leaving the concert. He and Guyunis had both ordered the extra large of the non-alcoholic version of the Eierlikör that was on the parlor's menu—if they had ordered the small, they would of been given a small shotglass of the drink; they had gotten a decently sized cup of Eierlikör instead. The third shake that he ordered was the same size. After receiving their ordered beverages, they also found a bag of cookies being given to them. He ate three of the five cookies that were in his bag while Guyunis ate two from his; a mutual decision was made on the rest of the cookies—since the third shake was ordered for their mother, but no cookies were given with that order, they made the decision to give the rest of their free-given cookies to their mother.

Their mother, looking as beautiful as ever, crossed her arms in the typical mom-fashion that said she was waiting for an explanation on some something that one or more of her sons had done. Bile swished the rest of his Eierlikör shake with the straw that he was given at the parlor for a second or two then looked at Guyunis, who was holding not only half a cup of Eierlikör in his left hand but a full cup of Eierlikör in his right hand. Bile nodded his head at Guyunis then took the full cup of Eierlikör from him; he walked it over to his mother then held it out to her.

"Thanks, honey, but don't go thinking that this—" she pointed at the Eierlikör shake that she was just given. "—is going to get you off the hook for being late in coming home." she took the bag of cookies that Bile held out to her a short, half second later. "You two promised to be home at midnight. It's nearly four in the morning."

"The concert just ended, ma." Bile said.

"The ad said that the concert ends at midnight, Bile." Angel said.

"You know how concerts are, the bands do all these encores that... you know. Make the concert last longer than it should." Bile said back.

"The las-k-t three bands did... what, five or six encores each?" Guyunis said. He looked at Bile for a confirmation on how many encores the last three bands had played at the concert that they had just come home from.

"Not sure how many they did but, yeah, it was a lot. It was Disturbed, Judas Priest, and Ozzy Osbourne that went crazy on the encores, ma." Bile said.

"Not surprised on the concert being held up by Ozzy Osbourne or Judas Priest; while I wasn't very mingly with the humans, I was here when them two bands were around." Angel said. She took a sip from the Eierlikör shake that was in her hand. Her eyes went wide almost at once. "Tastes almost like eggnog but that stuff's not made or shipped here."

"I was shocked when they said that at the parlor that we went to," Bile said. "It was either the Eierlikör or nothing; we had to order the extra large shakes because the small's were nothing more than shotglass-sized. The medium's were nearly the same size as the small's."

"Oh, so a confession is made on what you two did after the concert ended." Angel smiled a half-smile at her two sons.

"Uh, well, yeah. We, you know, were thirsty after the concert and thought that it'd be okay to... well, you know, stop for a shake and maybe some cookies." Bile looked down at his feet. He had stumbled on nearly every word that he had said in accord to his and his brother's trip to the little ice cream, smoothie, and milkshake parlor.

"Guess I can't ground you two for staying at the concert until after all of the songs and encores were played, or for you two wanting to make a pit-stop after the concert was over. You two head on up to bed now. Get some sleep for a few hours. We've got some work to do later on today." Angel said as she turned to go back upstairs.

"Wha-k-t's on today's schedule, mum?" Guyunis asked.

"Cooking, you don't think I bought that big bird that's in the fridge for nothing did you?" Angel said before disappearing around the corner.

As he went into the dining room, then made his way to the kitchen, he couldn't help but be confused over the bird that was in the refrigerator. His mum, about ten days ago, had said that they wouldn't be participating in the American holiday of Thanksgiving that year for a number of reasons—the first revolving around the fact that they had moved to a different country that celebrated different holidays and the second being based on what Lhaklar did earlier that month. He and his bruders were disappointed over their not participating in the holiday but they had all agreed that the non-participation in the American holiday should be done—so they wouldn't look foolish to their neighbors, who didn't celebrate the holiday. His family had missed participating in the Erntedankfest or "Harvest Festival", which was a religious occasion that happened on the first Sunday of October, where church service dominated the day; he and his family hadn't participated in the holiday for a number of reasons—the major ones being the weather, which kept them from going out to enjoy the festivities of the holiday, and the fact that they weren't apart of any of the religious gatherings or cults in the area.

The thirty-pound bird, that was resting on the last shelf in the refrigerator, was brought in four days ago; his mum had said nothing on why she brought it home. The idea of plans being changed around, and of their celebrating the American holiday of Thanksgiving after all, was thought and discussed; their mum had said nothing on the bird and she hadn't joined in on the conversations that were discussed on the bird either. The fact that their mum had also brought home two bags of potatoes, three boxes of stuffing, two blueberry, one apple, and two cherry pies, four cans of Cranberry sauce, and several cans of French-style Green Beans had also added fuel to their assumptions that they _were_ to have Thanksgiving that year; as Hazaar had pointed out some hours after everything that was in their mum's car was brought in, why else would all of that be bought or brought into the house if their participation in the American holiday wasn't to be done?

He went to the refrigerator, placed his Eierlikör milkshake on the shelf that was above the turkey, then, before heading up to his room, said a spell that'd allow him and only him to touch or take it from the spot that he placed it on. With everyone upstairs, either getting ready for bed or in bed sleeping, the house had taken on its former, quiet nature which, he was quite sure, would be broken in a few hours time. After taking care of his shake, he went to his room then tucked himself into bed; he was asleep and dreaming before his head had even fallen to the pillows that were on his bed. The dreams that he had in the hours before he woke up were centered around the concert—his first concert—that he and Bile had gone to.

"Man, that's not fair! You keep _us_ to the punishments that you give us! You letting—"

"Hazie, that's enough. I have my reasons for letting your brother off the hook." Angel said, effectively cutting her thirdborn son off.

She gave her son, who wasn't only cranky but also upset over her decision to release his brother from his month-long grounding, a look that meant for him to drop it before turning her attention back to the thirty-pound bird that she was trying to thaw out. The bird, the largest that she could find on short notice, was in the way back of her workplace's storage room. Instead of taking the bird out and then walking it to one of the available registers in the building's front, she decided to just plain spell-send it home. To where it'd be used. The bird actually had an expiration date for that week so it would of done nothing more than just sit and spoil in the back of her workplace's storage anyways; she couldn't believe that such a large bird, that a medium to large-sized family could use, was being let to waste like that.

She decided to forgo the American holiday of Thanksgiving after giving Lhaklar his month-long grounding; even though she was already thinking about their not celebrating the holiday sometime before the event happened, she was just too upset after Lhaklar's little date with her father to fathom the idea of their celebrating Thanksgiving.

They lived in Germany now. They were German citizens now so, they did have to accept that some of the things that they were raised around, or that they were taught about, were foreign to the people of this country. Thanksgiving was an American holiday; while German citizens celebrated a similar holiday their holiday was a different one than the one the American people celebrated. The idea of Stefan, or one of the neighbors, finding out about their celebrating an American holiday on German soil was very heavy on her conscience long before Lhaklar's little adventure; the event of Lhaklar leaving the shield to fish in one of the cut-off river arms that was called the Illinger Altrhein, and then being chased and then caught and brutally assaulted by her father, and then being caught and taken to his father's ship in the Rastatter Rheinaue camp, had made her not want to celebrate the holiday. Lhaklar had scared a thousand years off her life on the eighth of November; she had come close to losing it after hearing about his little adventure.

Lhaklar's reason for leaving the shield was innocent, as was the activity that he chose to do on the day that he was so badly assaulted; while she understood his reason for leaving the shield, she had still been unnerved by his brash move in leaving the shield. The fish that he sent home were noticed after she went down to check on the laundry that was in the washing machine. The effects of concern had started being felt about twenty minutes after she found the fish in one of the basement corners. She cast her concern to the side by thinking that her son had just sent the bulk of his catch home; he just sent the bulk of his fish home so he wouldn't have to worry about keeping watch over them, or about lugging them home when he decided that he had enough of fishing, she had thought.

Even after thinking that, her concern levels had grown by the hour; she was very anxious by the time Hazaar came home from a mildly successful hunt.

Hazaar came home at 5:56 p.m.—about four hours after the fish were seen in the basement—with a medium-sized Chamois doe. She did just about everything to keep her mind off her son not coming home after the fish were seen—dishes were washed and then dirtied and then washed again; clothes were dried and then folded and then re-folded again; the vacuum was used on the carpets... She didn't know how many batches of cookies were made before the call was made and she found out about what happened between her son and her no-good father. There were three large fish in the basement; they, and the fish that were in Lhaklar's fish basket, were frozen and then placed to the side for later. The five fish that were in the basket were enough for a single meal for her and her family while the three, larger fish would of kept her and her family fed for a few days—she was reluctant to start in on the prepping work on the fish because she didn't know which ones were for the family and which ones were for trophy keeping. After the fish were frozen, and then set to the side, she set to work on the Chamois doe; the skin, horns, and hooves were saved as per request of her son. The rest of the animal was cut and then prepared for cooking.

The phone calls were made fifteen minutes after six o'clock; besides calling people that she knew at work, and that she became friends with over the months, she also called her missing son's friends and acquaintances. Lhaklar only had three friends in the area; all male and all in their upper teenage years. Astor Bonnaire, a nineteen year old who worked in town, in his father's pawn shop, where her son had purchased several things over the months, hadn't seen her son. Jarvis Adlersflügel, a local youth that she had only met twice, had also not seen her son, while Seth Horowitz, a youth that she had seen a handful of times, had said something about seeing her son walking along a concrete walkway with some fishing gear earlier that afternoon. No one, at the time of her call placements, knew where her son was; the idea of giving Stefan a call had crossed her mind once or twice but she never did it. Instead of calling Stefan, she went back to doing house chores.

She was close to calling the local police when Stefan called; Hazaar was in the attic, taking care of his Chamois hide, while Bile and Guyunis were all bundled up on the living room's sectional couch or loveseat. Lazeer was the only one lively at the time. He was playing one of the Super Dendy games on the living room tv at the time that she had her near-heart attack. While the coffee table was still half-dominated by her young son's dinosaur model, it hadn't been used for model building for some time. The model was completed some hours before Stefan's little heart attack creating phone call came in.

"Hello? Hello? Who's this? Lhaklar?" in her hysteria, she had automatically placed the caller as her missing son. She had found herself being immensely disappointed after Stefan identified himself as the caller.

"No, Miss. Irene. I'm afraid that this isn't who you wish it was." Stefan's smooth, yet unmistakably tempered voice said back.

"I can't linger on the phone, Stefan." she said back, apologetically yet emotionally. "I'm hoping that my son—Lhaklar—will call to tell me where he is. He's—"

"Been missing for a while, right?"

"Yes,"

"I won't keep you on the phone for long, Miss. Irene, but I will tell you a few things that you need to know." Stefan said. "They're all about your son."

Time had stopped. The noise from the game that Lazeer was playing had stopped being heard. Everything around her had gone still; she came close to collapsing to the floor after Stefan started telling her what happened between her no-good father and son. Instead of collapsing to the floor, she screamed; Stefan was telling her where her son was at the time of her ear-piercing scream's emittance. The reason for her son not returning home after sending his catch to the basement had become clear to her—he was prevented from coming home by her father, who chased and then tortured and then brutally assaulted him.

She couldn't really remember the rest of what happened after being told the events of what transgressed between her good-for-nothing father and young son; all she remembered was being told to meet Stefan and some man named Ajeet Ballal in Steinmauern in twenty minutes. She was the first to get to the sparsely populated town. Stefan, Mr. Ballal, and a medium-sized platoon of men, with enough weaponry, ammunition, and vehicles to supply a battle, had shown up about thirty minutes later. She was given a headset, then was told to stay put after everyone was briefed on the situation. Stefan had promised her that he'd have her son when he returned; while remaining in Steinmauern was hard for her, she was obedient in not following or getting involved in the mission. Her son was returned to her twenty minutes after everyone went towards the camp that he was reported as being in.

"Mom!" her young son cried after the convoy of vehicles stopped in Steinmauern. Her son hadn't had a chance to get out of the vehicle; after the vehicle was pulled to a stop, she grabbed and then dragged him out herself. Lhaklar, her young son, who she came so very close to losing on that day, was wearing nothing more than his underwear; his left wrist was cut and bleeding and his right ankle was shattered, but he was alive. Injured and nearly naked, but alive. A hospital visit was arranged for her son. Stefan had taken them to the nearest hospital himself then he drove them home after her son was looked at and then treated for his injuries. After getting control of herself; she took care of her son's shattered ankle, an injury that was caused by one of the bullets that either Stefan or Mr. Ballal had fired from their heavy, high-powered MG3-05's—a new type of gun that had yet to be fully tested. Her son's cut wrist was just looked at, medicated, and then wrapped.

Lhaklar was grounded while on the drive home from the hospital; his leaving the shield without her permission, making her have a near heart attack, and his demand of Stefan and Mr. Ballal to take him back to his father's ship so he could get his wallet, keys, and cigarette case were the main focal points of the grounding. No model cars being built, no music being played, no vehicle being driven, no using the phone or hanging out with his friends, and no tv being watched; that had consisted of half of his punishment. The other half had consisted of him getting heavy-duty chores around the house and, of course, acting as a sort of maid for Bile, Guyunis, and Lazeer, who were sick with the flu at the time.

The first week of her son's punishment was a bit strange because, instead of staying home to play maid for his sick brothers, and to work on the list of chores that she made for him to do while she was at work, he tagged along with her to the local food mart where she worked as a full-time employee. It took her all of a week to discover her mouse-sized Lhaklar tag-a-long; she wasn't a happy camper after discovering him in her bag. After giving him a decent scolding, she sent him home; Lhaklar, her usually so mature, confident, and non-clingy son, had clung to her heavily for all of a week and a half before reverting back to his old ways. The second week of her son's punishment had gone normally; not only had he done everything that she told or wrote down for him to do but he had also had more than just Hazaar to keep him "company" while he did his chores.

"There's plenty of things for you boys to do inside the shields; if you can't find something inside the shields to do, then I'm sorry. Unless with my express permission, and unless it's up north or in a different country, you stay inside the shields." she said in the meeting that she called up after Bile, Guyunis, and Lazeer had gotten over their illnesses. All but one had nodded their heads; Lhaklar had kept his head low the entire time she was talking.

While she didn't know the full facts on how her son had come to be in his father's possession two weeks and four days ago, she did known that she wasn't going to let her sons leave the shields that were around the cities and towns that were in southern Germany again. A family meeting was called up; she laid it on the line—so to say—on what areas were safe and where they could leave the shields and, naturally, a firm reminder of her rule of their asking her for permission before leaving the safety of the shields was made. A new rule was made; her sons, if they chose and got permission to leave the protection of the shielded parts of the country, or of the country that they wanted to go visiting in, were only allowed to remain outside of the shields for two hours before needing to come back. Her sons had understood the reason for this new rule and they had accepted the new rule with no fuss.

With all the illnesses that were experienced in the house, and with what happened on the eighth, where her secondborn was chased and then badly assaulted by her father, and then taken to the camp that was in the Rastatter Rheinaue reserve, it took her and her family a while to feel normal and safe again; never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined herself being without one of her children and she had never really thought of what would happen if her father actually got one of her children alone. While she had a feeling that her father had it out for her sons she had never really realized how dangerous he was, or how dangerous he was towards her sons, until after he assaulted her secondborn. Lhaklar was lucky; her father could of killed him on that dark day that happened earlier that month. While she didn't know the full facts on what happened after her father caught her son she did know that she had someone to owe thanks to. Someone had intervened. Had stopped her father from delivering that final blow. Whoever it was, she didn't know. While she had a feeling that it was one of the people that resided in the Rastatter Rheinaue camp, she didn't know which one or ones it was and she had no intention of going out to ask who it was that saved her son from being killed.

Hazaar, who was only fifteen minutes past getting up, and who was suffering from early morning crankiness, was upset over her decision to let Lhaklar off the hook. While her releasing one of her children from their given punishments wasn't new, it was a shock that she was releasing Lhaklar, who still had nearly two weeks to go in his month-long grounding, from his grounding duties—she figured that he had learned his lesson. The trauma of being chased and then tortured and then assaulted by her father, followed by his finding himself in his father's ship in the Rastatter Rheinaue camp, then the mini-battle that Stefan and Mr. Ballal did to get him to safety, had shook him up something awful, but he had learned from it and well. She could see it in his eyes that he had learned his lesson on why it was so important to ask her for permission before leaving an area that had the protection of one of her shields over it.

"Hazaar, quit crying, moaning, and complaining will you?" she said, after hearing her son make an angry, grunting sound behind her. "Make yourself a fish sandwich, or get yourself a slice of Chamois meat. They're both still good. We're to have a light breakfast and lunch today."

"I thought you said we were going to skip Thanksgiving this year," Hazaar said back.

"Changed my mind." Angel replied.

While his mother roiled the turkey by blowing a heated breath on it, he walked over to the fridge; a spell was worked on the meat from the Chamois doe that he caught two weeks and four days ago, so it wouldn't spoil. They could eat the meat whenever they wanted to, thanks to that spell. The Chamois doe, that he brought back from his hunt, was the only animal that he saw while on his hunt; it was a rather young animal, with half-grown horns. He only brought it down so not to return home empty-handed. The half-grown horns, all four hooves, and the nice, rich brown pelt, that had a near-black stripe running down the back and a white rump patch, were all upstairs in his room; the pelt was lying across the baseboard of his bed while the short, straightish horns, that hooked back at the tips, were hanging above the switch plate that was to the left of his bedroom door. All four of the hooves were given a home on his bookcase... which was now starting to look a bit too full nowadays.

He took the mayonnaise jar and then the large tupperware container, that had the Chamois meat in it, out of the fridge; his eye caught the shake-like drink that was on the shelf below the one that he had gotten the container of meat from rather quickly. The idea of taking the drink out of the fridge crossed his mind for only a fleeting second before his eye landed on the carton of eggs that were on the fridge's lowest shelf. He picked the egg carton up, took two of the eggs from it, then placed it back on the shelf that he had gotten it from; he used his hip to close the refrigerator door afterwards.

"She said for us to have a light breakfast today; a Chamois meat sandwich, that has two, over-easy eggs on it, sounds "light" to me." he thought as he took the container of meat and the two eggs to the stove.

Other than being asked to leave the pan on the stove by a certain older brother that was just let loose from his "one-month" grounding—it wasn't fair! their mother was usually so steadfast on her punishments; unless one of them really showed that they had learned from what they had done through their given punishment, they accepted and then went through their given punishments with no fuss or lip given. Lhaklar, he felt, hadn't learned from what happened to him. Lhaklar should still be grounded; he shouldn't be getting a reprieve from his grounding duties at all—, he wasn't bothered in his breakfast making. A piece of Chamois meat was fried, two eggs were fried, and then two pieces of bread were toasted; he spread a layer of mayonnaise over one of the slices of toasted bread then slapped one of the eggs, the meat, and then another of the eggs on top in that order. The other slice of toasted bread completed his breakfast; he left the kitchen with his sandwich afterwards, totally disgusted, but not wanting to voice his disgust in the fact that his brother had been given a reprieve from a punishment that he thought he should still have.

Instead of going to the living room with his sandwich, he went to his bedroom, a place where he'd not only be allowed to feel his agitation in private but where he's also be able to eat in relative peace and, maybe, feel a little better. With the plan of their not celebrating Thanksgiving this year being thrown out the door he had to get it in gear on feeling better and quick; he _did_ want to participate in the festivities, he _wanted_ to fight Lazeer over the "honor" of taking the neck out from the turkey—he and Lazeer always joked around in saying that the neck was actually the turkey's penis, it drove their mother insane!—, and he also _wanted_ to be the one to butter the turkey.

He looked over to the right after he walked into his bedroom; while his room looked much the same as it had a month ago, there were a few changes that most folk wouldn't notice. Besides the Chamois pelt, that was laying across the baseboard of his bed, and the four Chamois hooves, that were on one of his bookcase shelves, and the Chamois rack, that was over the light switch plate, there were some shelves in the upper left corner of his room that some of his completed spaceship models were on. The small, but very sturdy, white oak table, that was to the right of his bed, near the upper right corner of his room, was probably the only thing that one would take note of that was different in his room—the table was new; it had only been placed in his room three weeks ago. Like the table, the cage that sat on the table's surface was also new—it was only three weeks placed. The long, glass aquarium, that was on the table, had an environment similar to that of what his three Spiny turtles had in their cage. It had two, very unique and special turtles in it that were doing very well.

Mr. Leinart had made it possible for him to keep the turtles a few days after they calmed down from the events that happened at the second-held Oktoberfest funfair. A vet visit for the two turtles was scheduled; after his turtles were looked over, and then given full bills of health, a call was made to German customs about his having and wanting to acquire a permit to own them. Two permits, one from German customs, and the other from the Federal Environment Ministry, were sent to his address; he signed and then dated them then he sent them off. The permits were approved very quickly; it was fully legal for him to have the two turtles now. No one could arrest or press charges on him for having them and, as long as he took good care of them, they couldn't be taken from him. According to Mr. Leinart and the Bavarian Federal Environment Ministry, the two turtles that he won at the fair were a rare and highly endangered species; the proprietor of the booth that the turtles were won from was looking at some heavy jail-time due to his having and then distributing more than one highly endangered turtle species without having a permit that showed that he could.

Since he had already taken care of his pet turtles that morning, he didn't have to worry about feeding or giving them their vitamins until later on that afternoon. He went straight to his bed then flopped down. He kicked his shoes off then grabbed his sandwich up from the paper plate that it sat on. After taking a bite from his sandwich, he grabbed the remote that went to his tv then pressed the ON-button.

A silly game show was the last thing he watched on his bedroom tv; while he was hoping to find some sort of program that would help in lifting his mood some—a program that revolved around humans or animals being funny or doing funny or stupid things—, he found that nothing good was playing instead. The news was the only thing that he was able to find that was halfway interesting so he decided to watch that for a while.

"As experts expected earlier this month, the weather experienced this month has been just as unpredictable as what was experienced last month," a rather ugly-faced, blonde-haired woman was saying on the tv.

"B-oh-ring! They say the same damn thing over and over again about how the "weather experts" are saying how unpredictable the weather was or is or how right they are about how unpredictable the weather's going to be." he thought as he took another bite from his sandwich.

As the ugly-faced woman rambled on about what the so-called weather experts were predicting for next month's weather, he thought back to what the weather was like in his and his family's part of the country the last few weeks. It was very hot from the ninth to the thirteenth of November; the nighttime temperatures had dipped down to near freezing on the nights of those days. An icy rain had also fallen on the night of November the 13th. Lhaklar was given the chore of cleaning the house's gutters on the fourteenth of November, which was bitterly cold; it was also bitterly cold on the fifteenth and sixteenth of November then, from the seventeenth of November on through to the twentieth of November, it was a nice, seventy degrees. Lhaklar had gotten plenty of outside chores to do on them days.

A heavy ground-fog had settled over southern Germany in the late-night hours of the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth of November; a lot of accidents were caused by it. While traveling commerce had heaved signs of relief over the fog dissipating, after the sun had risen, people who had to go off to work or school had either moaned or groaned over the loss of a free-work or school day. Sixty-nine degree temperatures were experienced from the twentieth to the twenty-second of November; temperatures had dipped down to below zero on the twenty-third of November, then a heat-wave was experienced. It was eighty-fuckin'-degrees the last two days; he didn't think that temperature was going to be experienced that day. It looked a bit foggy outside, and the sky was overcast, so he figured that it was going to either rain or snow.

"While today's weather forecast can't be assured, it does look like either snow or rain is expected for the cities and towns that lie in the Rastatt, Karlsruhe, Calw, Freudenstadt, and Ortenaukreis districts." the weatherman, a man who looked just as ugly as the blonde-haired woman that was on before him, was saying. "Right now, it's fifty-two degrees out. Our temperature monitors are showing a drop in temperature every half-hour so keep them umbrellas and winter coats handy."

"They should put all you weather forecasting people on paid relieve until the weather stops acting all bitchy." Hazaar said as he shut the tv off.

Seeing as there was nothing good to watch on tv, he finished his sandwich in silence. After finishing his sandwich, he sat on his bed for all of ten minutes before getting up to leave his room. The task of going down to the kitchen had just one hiccup; while on his way down the stairs, he came close to stepping on his adoptive brother's kitten, who had managed to get only halfway down the stairs before stopping and then finding herself unable to manage the rest. Sabine, Guyunis's three month, two week, and two day old kitten, who was still so small considering her age, was growing more and more adventuresome with each passing day; the only drawback to her little adventures was the fact that her legs were rather short. She grew tired very fast in her adventures and, most of the time, it was one of them that carried her up or down the stairs.

He helped the kitten get down the rest of the stairs then he placed her down on the floor; she went off in the same direction that he was planning on going afterwards. A commotion was going on in the kitchen so he hurried along. He threw the paper plate, that he used, in the trash then he walked over to see what the fuss was about—and to see if he could weasel himself into becoming apart of it.

"I say we should start this thing like we usually do; mom thaws the bird, then Hazaar and Lazeer take the innards out." Lhaklar was saying. "Let Guyunis lube the bird, though."

"Must be getting ready to snow outside—the first dirty joke of the holiday comes not from me but from Lhaklar." Lazeer said back. He then elbowed Hazaar in the side. "Nice of you to join us. You agree with what Lhaklar just suggested? We take the guts out of the bird then we step back to let Guyunis rub the bird with butter?"

"Fine with me; make sure to warn him about how the turkey likes to "dance" during the buttering. It acts like it's ticklish or something when the butter's put on it." Hazaar said back. He was mildly disappointed over not buttering the turkey this year but, he did know that it was for the best to let Guyunis in on the fun. This was Guyunis's first, real holiday with having them as his official family; they needed to include him in on things after all.

"Bile and me still got dibs on the homemade potatoes. Guyunis can help on the stuffing if he wants." Lhaklar said.

"Ma can do the green beans and casserole. Guyunis can do the pies." Bile said.

"Lazeer'll do his usual with the jokes," Hazaar added.

"So will me and Lhaklar." Bile said back.

"Who'll do the gravy, boys?" their mother, who was still thawing the turkey, which was still in the kitchen sink, asked.

He was starting to feel a bit better now. With his brothers asking or suggesting who all was to do this thing or that thing that was connected with that day's scheduled holiday, there was really no way one couldn't be or feel happy or excited. While his mother's question was an important one, he had another one that he thought was of greater importance—it was just him, Bile, Lhaklar, and Lazeer huddled around the bar counter; where was Guyunis? When he was walking past the window, that was between the dining room and living room, he had noticed that the living room was vacant. No one in there, either watching tv, or getting a game ready to play, or even just sitting on the loveseat or sectional couch. It was just a big, ol' empty room, with open windows that looked out at a gray lawn.

He knew Guyunis was in the house. He walked past him on the way to the bathroom twice that morning and he also passed by him while on the way to the kitchen too. His mother didn't seem to be wondering where Guyunis was, which he found a bit strange; the conversation that he and his brothers were having was an important one—Guyunis should be here to agree or make up other suggestions for them to do on that holiday. He shouldn't be a no-show or be nowhere in sight. He was getting ready to ask where Guyunis was when the sliding glass patio door slid open; a gust of chilly air blew in as his adoptive brother came in.

"He must of met someone while he was out, ma." Bile said after Guyunis came in. "Stayed out there a while, bro. Who is she and how many kids did you two make?"

"Name was Trash. No kids, but I did see two ra-k-ts around her though." Guyunis responded.

"What?" their mother suddenly stopped working on the turkey; her fiery red hair flew from one shoulder to the next as she turned her head towards Guyunis. "There are rats outside, around the trash cans, Guyunis?"

"Yeah," Guyunis said as he flipped his hoodie back from his head. "Big-k and hairy and ug-k-ly and with beady, red eyes. They tried to g-k-et into the house when I was coming-k in; they can walk on two leg-ks and they are fast."

"Get the broom and fast! Mom'll be at war in nothing flat against the rats that can walk on two legs." Lazeer chimed loudly.

"Guyunis, you were telling a tall-tale on them rats right?" their mother asked. "Them things are a nuisance. Carry all sorts of germs and diseases on them—not to mention, they also carry fleas and lice."

"No roden-k-ts out there mum. Just the cans." Guyunis said. Their mother heaved a sigh of relief then went back to de-thawing the turkey.

"Ma asked Guyunis to take the trash out before you came down," Bile whispered to Hazaar. "We decided to get most of what we were going to do today squared away while he was busy. We want him to participate in what's to happen today. We don't want him to feel left out, or to disapprove of anything."

"Disapprove of wha-k-t?" Guyunis asked. While he hadn't caught all of what Bile had whispered, he had caught that one little word.

Bile explained everything that they had just discussed slowly. Guyunis took in what he was told quietly then turned to look at their mother, who was now taking the turkey out of the bag that surrounded it. The bird that she was tending seemed bigger now; either the heat from her using one of her Elemental Fire powers on it had made it expand some or it was just the fact that it was being removed from the bag that was around it that was making it look bigger. The legs, Hazaar noticed, were tucked under a flap of skin and the wings, for some odd reason, were pinned to the animal's sides by a plastic tie; while their mother removed the plastic tie from the turkey's wings, she left the legs be. Hazaar made a mental note on how to remove the legs from the flap of skin that they were tucked into—the flap of skin was important as it kept the legs tucked-in while the bird was cooking.

Guyunis asked their mother if she was serious on their celebrating the American holiday then, when she said that she was, he agreed to not only buttering the turkey but to also helping in making the stuffing. He tried to talk his way out of taking care of the pies for a few minutes before agreeing to do them too; just when everything was squared away, they were all surprised by the rather innocent question of what kind of gravy they were going to have that year with their meal.

They all had a preference when it came to what kind of gravy they liked to have with their Thanksgiving meals; he and Lazeer liked plain, old, brown gravy, while Bile and Lhaklar had a taste for giblet gravy. Their mother either had both or she just scrapped the gravy for something else. Guyunis, he remembered, had a peculiar taste for mushroom gravy, which made all of their mouths want to turn up into their faces. Except for Guyunis, none of them liked mushroom gravy. The chunks of mushrooms didn't meet well with the brown sauce and the taste... well, they didn't much care for the taste at all.

"I don't have any mushrooms available for mushroom gravy, G." their mother said after Guyunis asked if mushroom gravy could be made. She started to dig into one of her pants pockets when Guyunis walked forward. She looked at him questioningly when he placed his hand on her wrist a few seconds later.

"There are a lot of mushrooms growing-k around, mum. No need to buy any—one of us can pick some." Guyunis said.

"There's a lot of mushrooms out there that are poisonous, G." their mother said.

"I know the ones tha-k-t aren't poisonous." Guyunis said back. "The Steinpilz is a very good, but rare to find mushroom; the Champignons is another good mushroom and so is the Pfifferlinge, the lat-k-ter has a fruity, Apricot-like smell to it. It also has a mildly peppery tas-k-te."

"Bet you _do_ know what mushrooms are and are not edible here, G." their mother smiled warmly. "You've been raised here, so you know more of this country than any of us combined." she went back to dealing with the turkey; only after the turkey was taken out of the sink, and then placed on the cutting board, that was beside the sink, did she say something else. "I suppose I can't say no on you going out to find some mushrooms for your gravy; go up north of here and take Hazaar with you. I'm sure he'll relish in learning the ropes of mushroom collecting from you and I'm also sure that he'll like the opportunity of learning something before his older or younger brothers do."

He turned then ran upstairs, to his room, for one of the coats that were in his closet, with what the human on the news had said about how cold it was outside and about how the temperature was dropping every half-hour fresh on his mind. His mother said rather loudly for him and Guyunis to both stay inside the shield wherever they were planning on going and she also told them to behave themselves, and to not pick any fights. She also wished them luck in their mushroom search. He ran into his bedroom then went straight to his closet; his light brown coat, that had a zipper going down the front, and a hoodie on the collar, was taken down from the closet's rod. He threw the coat on then he went towards his dresser. A pair of light gloves were quickly taken from his top dresser drawer; he was sliding them on as he left his room then made his way back downstairs.

Guyunis, he saw, was waiting for him by the front door. His adoptive brother, who had only just gotten over being sick with the flu, hadn't gone upstairs to get a coat from either his or Bile's closest and it looked like he had no intention of going upstairs to get a coat. Guyunis stood in front of the door with no coat or gloves on his person; the black, cloth-like thing that was in his hand looked much too thin for a winter wear to him.

"Don't you think you should go up for a coat or something?" he asked his brother. " It's a bit chilly outside and, according to the weatherman,—"

"We won't be ou-k-t for long," Guyunis replied quickly.

"You just got over the flu—"

"So." Guyunis said back. He winked one of his eyes then opened the door.

"Thought I was the only tough guy in the family," Hazaar said as he followed Guyunis out of the house. "Where we going? Any ideas?"

One step was all it took for him to want to go back inside; it was colder than a witch's tit outside the walls of his family's home and here he was, wearing just a light coat and gloves. The weatherman had said that it was fifty-two degrees outside only fifteen minutes ago—he wanted to call the human up to tell him that his "temperature monitors" were wrong, because it felt way colder than fifty-two degrees. The grass of the lawn, which decided to call it quits on growing earlier that month, was a dark gray color for a reason; the sky above was an ugly, dark slate gray color that was very nearly green. The many clouds that were drifting here and there in the sky looked pregnant with either rainwater or snow. His cheeks went numb almost at once; the breeze, that was blowing, had a good nip to it that seemed to say that colder temperatures were coming and fast. He never really had a chance to go back inside; while the cold was able to make him jump, it wasn't able to make him go back inside. Guyunis grabbed him by the elbow after they stepped out onto the porch. They were on the porch one second, then they were in a rather hilly area, that was half-covered in trees and bushes, the next.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed after Guyunis released him. "Holy shit! Holy Shit! Build a fire, quick!"

"Move around, you won't be cold then." Guyunis said back.

Even with it being so cold out, he was able to goof around a bit. He grabbed the tree that was closest to him then started acting like the act of teleportation had taken a lot out of him. He gasped. He spat. He acted like he couldn't breathe for nearly thirty seconds then he started to laugh; the scared, yet bewildered look that was on his brother's face was classic. He thought that Guyunis's reaction to his acting out was hilarious.

He calmed down after a little while then went towards his brother, who was shaking his head in utter disgust. He punched his brother in the shoulder then walked by him; he was taken aback by his surroundings after he finished goofing off.

A stream ran through a long valley, that was at the end of the hilly area, that his brother had taken him to; there were a few, barely visible paths crisscrossing here and there on the other side of the stream and, beyond the paths, there was tall grass that resembled sugar cane growing. A deep, dark, and impenetrable-looking forest was behind the tall grass. The shield was just a half mile away from him and his brother; the hum that the shield was generating was light, yet very soothing. He found himself feeling very safe where he was.

"Here," Guyunis said. He tossed the black, cloth-like thing that he had in his hand over to him.

"What's..." Hazaar looked at the black, cloth-like thing that he was thrown. He turned the thing over twice in his hands, then plucked at one of its sides; it took him a few seconds to realize that the thing was a bag. "For the mushrooms?"

"Yeah,"

"Shouldn't we have a basket or something for them? Wouldn't the 'rooms get squashed-up in this thing?"

"We're not get-k-ting many; just enough for a bowl or two of gravy." Guyunis said.

Guyunis went towards a cluster of yellowish-orange mushrooms, that were growing around one of the trees that were nearby; he followed at a distance then stopped when his brother crouched down in front of the mushrooms. Guyunis looked over his shoulder—presumably, to see where he was—then slid his hand into the only pocket that was on his pants; the pocketknife that his brother took out from his pocket looked rather old. It had a very worn-out, wooden handle and the blade looked rather scratched up and dull. He didn't have to ask where the knife had come from; he knew almost at once that the knife had come from the Meyer home that his brother had resided in a little over a year ago. Guyunis worked the blade out from the knife's handle slowly then stretched his hand forward, towards the mushroom cluster. He cut seven or eight mushrooms from the cluster then looked back at him. He gestured for him to come closer then turned back to the mushroom cluster.

"This is the Pfifferlinge, also commonly called the Chanterelle." Guyunis said after he reached his side. When Guyunis held one of the mushrooms up, he saw that it had a meaty, funnel-like shape to it. When Guyunis turned the mushroom over, he saw that it had gill-like ridges running down from the smooth-topped cap.

"You said at home that this type of mushroom had a fruity, Apricot-like smell to it." Hazaar said as he held the bag open for the mushrooms that his brother had cultivated. "Does it always have this smell or does it just... y'know, emit it after it reaches maturity?"

"After it reaches maturi-k-ty." Guyunis replied.

He and Guyunis collected about ten or so of the Pfifferlinge mushrooms before moving off. They went towards the valley, that was at the end of the hilly area that they had teleported to; Guyunis, he was quick to note, seemed very serious about their mushroom collecting so, he didn't speak much or goof off or joke around. They were nearing the last hill of the hilly area that they teleported to when Guyunis stopped. His adoptive brother, who was very relaxed a few minutes ago, suddenly looked very tense; every muscle in his body was taut. He got the distinct feeling that his brother was taking his environment in bit by bit and he also got the distinct feeling that his brother was gearing up for a fight. He was about to ask him what was up when he heard a low growling sound coming from his right; he and Guyunis turned in that direction at the same time. The light brown coat of the Eurasian Lynx that was stalking them was seen for only a second before it disappeared.

"Forgot about them," Guyunis said after the animal disappeared. While they couldn't see the animal anymore, they could hear it as it moved through the leaf litter and underbrush. The animal's movements were faint, but they were able to keep track of where it was and, most importantly, where it was going.

"It's going around us, G." Hazaar said. He fought the urge to stomp his foot down. A ground spear wasn't just a good hunting weapon—it could also be used as a protective source. He could use it to wield the Eurasian Lynx off, should the animal decide to attack him and his brother from behind.

Guyunis, who seemed to of not heard him, made no movements or said anything more. He didn't turn to look at what was going on behind them—he just kept staring at the valley that they were a few feet from entering. When he saw that Guyunis wasn't going to turn around, he did so himself; he found that his action was rightly done, because the animal was standing almost directly behind them. The animal, a young one by the looks of it, growled in frustration over being discovered before turning and then fleeing into the forest. He sighed heavily after the animal went away; he and his brother would of been attacked from behind if he hadn't turned around to see if the animal was just changing positions or not. One of them could of been either very badly injured or turned into Lynx food if he hadn't turned around.

"Guyunis—" he said. He was getting ready to suggest that they leave the area when his brother pointed at the shield.

"Keep thinking-k that there's someone watching us." his brother said. "The grass moved after you turned around. Twice. Looked like someone was peekin' out a-k-t us."

"Man, that Lynx must of scared you into becoming a woman." Hazaar said after giving the area that his brother was pointing at a good looking over. "Time to go home."

"We're not done yet." Guyunis said quickly. "We don't have enough mushrooms for the gravy yet."

"Women don't belong in areas like this," Hazaar said as he started walking into the valley. "Only us men, who don't worry about our nails, complexion, and hair, are allowed here."

"You need to go home then," Guyunis said as he followed his brother into the valley. "You worry over your hair more than me... and I have more hair than you!"

"Hey man, the cool in me is brought out by my hair. Can't help it that I look as cool as I do." Hazaar returned.

Guyunis chuckled at his brother's conceited words at the same time that he shot his arm at the stream that was two feet from them; the stream, which was just trickling by peacefully, bowed in the middle, then began to rise. Hazaar looked at the wave that was rising out of the stream for only a second before turning and then running away; thanks to his limp, which was still pretty bad, he wasn't able to go but so far. The wave splashed over the stream bed, then it splashed over him quickly. He screamed almost at once; with it being as cold as it was in the area that he was in, he didn't need to get or be wet! His body convulsed as he wrapped his arms around himself. His teeth clacked against one another as Guyunis's arms wrapped around him. They were still clacking when he was lifted from the ground. He was thrown into a pile of soggy leaves at the same time that a section of the sugar cane-like grass, that was on the other side of the valley, was parted. The pair of glowing green eyes, that had yellow pupils in their centers, grew wider by the second as they watched him struggle in the mock fight that he and his brother were having.


	32. Chapter 32

As he took in the shocking scene that was happening in front of him, he couldn't help but think back to what his parents said after he and his brother told them about the being that they and Baruk fought last month. His parents went off for one of their "adult talks" that he and his siblings weren't allowed to hear or be apart of; he and his two siblings were left in the small living room that was in the ship that they were living in for a little over a month. Instead of just sitting on the sofa, like Uevaa and Selik had, he got up. He eavesdropped on his parents as they talked in the hallway.

"That "green-colored smoke" part of their story doesn't sound right." he heard his mother say after he got in position to hear-in to their conversation. "Did the physician find any smoke traces, or burns, on the boys?"

"No. No burns, just the bruises around Selik's neck and Gaajah's internal issues and abdominal bruises." his father replied. "That part of their story was probably exaggerated; I do believe that what happened at that reserve was traumatic—they coming upon Bile being injured, and Lazeer being pushed around by that guy, meaning. Their attacking that guy wasn't done right, they're both lucky to of come out of it with just them injuries."

"Was Bile injured or was that also exaggerated?" his mother asked.

"According to Eshal, he was." his father replied.

From what he could tell, everyone but his parents believed what he and his brother had told them about the guy that they and Baruk had fought on the last day of October and about how he had gotten free from their energy bonds. His mother was supportive while his father remained his usual hard, stern self; oh, the man was a little less hard and stern on him and his brother for all of two days then he went back to being the bastard that they—or, mostly he, since his brother and his father seemed to get along well—knew most.

He and his brother were given a reprieve from anything strenuous, and from doing any sort of training exercises, for five days then, on the morning of the sixth of November, at exactly six o'clock, their father started "training" them.

It actually started an hour earlier than six o'clock; his father would wake him and his brother from a rather deep sleep at five, then he'd tell them to dress quickly, and quietly, and then to go to the kitchen part of his ship for a "light" breakfast, which would consist of maybe two or three pieces of buttered bread. After they ate their meal, they'd be led out from the ship and then whisked away to the nature preserve that was south of Daxlanden borough. Their father's version of a "training" session would begin afterwards.

"It's way past time you two had a refresher course done on your powers." their father chimed after they reached the area that he picked out for them to be trained in.

Their father wasn't a gentle or patient teacher or trainer; both he and his brother knew this and, since both he and his brother knew that a single given training session was a very rare thing when it came to their father training them, or giving them a "refresher course" on their powers, they both knew that they were going to be plenty sore with the conclusion of every training session that they did. From the sixth of November to that very day, they trained. From six a.m. to nine a.m. they'd either be running or ducking from the attacks that their "trainer" hurled at them or they'd try their best to knock him flat on his keister—which wasn't an easy thing to do, since their father was very well-trained by his father and since he had very good balance.

That morning, like the last twelve morning's, was the same. Get up at five, complain about how sore they were while getting dressed, then eat a bread-breakfast, then follow dear old daddy to his hand-picked training grounds for that day's three-hour long training session. That day's training session had started much like the ones that preceded it; they, and their powers and abilities, had started strong then they tapered off very fast, leaving them with very little strength and energy to go on. Usually, by the first twenty or so minute mark of the "training" session, they'd be running or ducking from their father's attacks. They'd be praised the first ten or so minutes then their father would start in on accusing them of doing something wrong or he'd insult them; the riding crop, that their father started carrying on the second day of their "training" sessions, would usually be used at around the thirty-minute mark. They'd usually be returning to camp sniffling or with a few red welts on their backsides thanks to that riding crop.

There was one small, but very welcomed and interesting, change in that morning's training session; Uevaa, his and Selik's sister, was allowed to attend that morning's training session, which allowed for both he and Selik to be given a few short breaks. It was pretty evident that his sister had grown jealous and "depressed" over their father's attentiveness of them; she went around all day yesterday, voicing her depression and jealousy rather loudly. Her loudest voicing happened during supper last night. He wasn't going to forget how much she cried and bitched and complained over how much she "never saw dad because he spends so much time with the boys" and how much "dad favors Gaajah and Selik over me" for a long time; apparently, she had gotten under their father's skin, because he hadn't only allowed her to tag along that morning but he had also let her join-in on the training session that was being done. Naturally, since Uevaa was his father's Little Princess, she was getting praised a lot in her ten or so minute long training sessions and she was also being treated kindly and fairly.

He had gotten a little praise ten minutes ago, before Uevaa's turn to be trained came and before he asked if he could use the bathroom. Selik, his baby brother, who was going through that Temperamental phase, and who seemed to be liked more than he by their father, hadn't received any praise that morning. He was yelled at and punished twice.

"Decent job on that last blow, Gaajah." his father said after he whipped his left arm to the side then threw it forward. The water whip that he used on his father had made his father take a half-dozen steps back. Selik had actually been trying to hide behind him at the time of that little praise-giving; their father had noticed and he had obviously not liked it one bit. "Selik! Quit hiding behind your brother!"

"Yessir," Selik muttered after moving a foot or two from him.

"You both need to work on your powers some—they, and your staminas and strengths, are right weak. That's not good when it comes to fighting an opponent who means to hurt you." their father said. He went off to retrieve the riding crop, that he threw to the side a few minutes earlier, after he said that. After picking the crop up, he turned to look at them. "What happened at that reserve last month must never be allowed to happen again; that bum-screwer could of killed you both with both of his arms tied behind his back—that is an insult to the family name!"

He asked if he could use the bathroom a few minutes later, after his father's near-ten minute long tirade, that was mostly directed at him, Selik, and Baruk, ended. He was dying for a break, and some alone time, all morning long and, while he did need to use the bathroom, his need wasn't all that dire. He actually wanted to get away from things. For a few minutes. For a little while. Just get away. Sit under a tree, or find a bush or a cave or something to hunker down in for a few minutes. Think in private. Be sore in private. Maybe come to terms with the real reason for why his father was training him and his brother so harshly; his father claimed that these morning sessions were just being done to "iron their rust away", and to "refresh them on what they could do with their powers". If that was true, then, why was he treating the last two weeks' training sessions like the real-deal? True, his father had taught him and his brother the basics, and then the mediocre, and then the advanced moves and steps, in their powers but he decided to not train them in the more advanced moves and steps until later. Until they reached a more advanced age and had grown and matured some.

He had just settled on his not knowing the real reason for the training sessions when he heard a low growling sound coming from behind him. The area that his father and two siblings were in was mostly flat and clear. The Altrhein flowed leisurely by to the northeast; it connected to another river that was called the Federbach river. The area that he and his brother were training in for two weeks was situated right between them two rivers. The area that he left ten minutes ago was devoid of trees from the south and west; there were a few bushes here and there, and there were many overgrown or nearly nonexistent paths crisscrossing the area. The borough of Daxlanden was to the far north of his location. A bunch of farmlands separated the borough from the part of the Fritschlach nature preserve that he, his two siblings, and their father were in. He was in the dark and nearly impenetrable forest that was to the north and east of the area; he went into the forest to use the bathroom and to find some place to hold-up in for a little while. The idea of his walking into a carefully laid trap by some predator animal was scary, but it was also toxically exciting.

After a few seconds of doing nothing more than sitting with his back pressed against the trunk of a tree, he got up. He followed the low growling sound to a patch of tall, sticky grass that looked somewhat like sugar cane. He came close to laughing himself silly afterwards, because the forest, which looked deep, wasn't really all that deep at all. It went back maybe a quarter of a mile then it gave way onto another clearing that had a thin stream in it.

It took him a little while to notice Little Dark Blue Wonder Boy aka Hazaar; he was too focused on the nearly silhouetted figure of the being that he and Selik had fought on the last day of October to notice Hazaar. His jaw had dropped when he noticed Hazaar then, not one second later, his jaw snapped shut after the dark-skinned fellow grabbed and then threw Hazaar into a pile of leaves.

"Hazaar's still limping on that leg." he noted as he watched the scene that was going on in front of him.

Even with the shield being only a hand's reach from him, he was able to see the scene, and the environment that the scene was taking place in, very well. The line of tall, sticky, sugar-cane like grass was thin, but it gave him enough cover to not be seen by the two that were fighting on the other side of the shield; a long valley, that had a thin stream running through it, was where the fight was happening. A rather hilly, dark forest flanked the valley on one side. The person that his older brother continued to call Numbskull had come from that dark forest and, he guessed, so had Hazaar. The darkly skinned person wasn't appropriately dressed for the weather, while Hazaar looked to be only half-appropriately dressed for the weather. The coat that Hazaar was wearing looked to be rather light... much too light for the temperature that it was, and there looked to be something on his hands that was of equal lightness.

The grass that was in the valley was only half-dead; there were a few patches of green grass here and there and there seemed to be something stationary running through them. The stream that flowed through the valley was a light blue color. The banks of the stream were dry on his side only.

"The humans, about four or five hundred years ago, decided to turn this entire area into farmland." he remembered his father telling him and his brother one day, after their training session came to a close. "They cut the forest down, they tamed the land, then they made fields so they could plant things like turnips, cabbage, and wheat. Up to the last plague, this entire area belonged to the farms up north of here; the humans abandoned this area after the last plague. The land reclaimed everything in very short order; this area was added to the Fritschlach nature preserve about a hundred years later and, as you can tell by the badly worn-out or overgrown paths, not many humans visit this part of the preserve. That's why I decided to bring you two here—it's remote, not many humans come here, so we'd be left alone to train as we wish."

He wondered if the sugar cane-like grass was a remnant of the crops that were planted in the area some four to five hundred years ago. It seemed strange that the grass was this tall, sticky and sugar cane-like. He had never seen grass like this before and he bet his left arm that his two younger siblings hadn't either. He was just remembering the fact of how long he was away from the area that his father and younger siblings were in when Hazaar charged at the darkly skinned man; Hazaar's charge, though off, due to his limp, was a strong one. Even while being impressed by the strength of Hazaar's charge, he knew that the kid would be beaten back and, like he expected, he was.

The dark-skinned man took a few steps back after Hazaar collided with him then he grabbed and then threw Hazaar over to the side of the stream that he was on. Hazaar yelled in pain then rolled over to his side. The dark-skinned man strolled over to the side of the stream that he was on quickly then bent down.

"Where are you, Boy? A bathroom break does _not_ take fifteen minutes!" his father's deep, booming voice rang out rather loudly from the communicator that was in his peacoat's left side pocket. He fumbled the communicator out from the pocket that it was in while he thought up a reason for his being away for so long.

"Dad...!" his finger slipped from the initiate button; that was all he was able to say.

"Get back here now, Gaajah!" his father boomed through his communicator speaker.

"Think you should get here and fast, dad!" he said, trying to make his voice sound as excited, yet as normal, as can be.

"You're going to be one hurting boy if I do that." his father's voice had a promising tone to it. He nearly caved in going back.

"I see Hazaar." he said back, quickly yet earnestly.

Their rough housing became a little too rough at the last minute and he was paying a price for it; while he knew that Guyunis wasn't at fault for the pain that he was feeling, he couldn't really help or stop the anger that he was projecting at him. His whole left hip was throbbing. It felt like it was broken, and his left elbow was bleeding right badly too. He hadn't meant to put that much oomph into his charge and Guyunis hadn't meant to pick him up and then throw him to the other side of the stream bed that had all matter of rocks on it. They had just gotten too excited and their play had grown too rough; they should of stopped and gone back to mushroom collecting. Instead of going back to collecting mushrooms for Guyunis's mushroom gravy, they goofed around. Had rough housed and, now, one of them had wound up being hurt. Guyunis was trying to help him to his feet; he also trying to stop his elbow from bleeding. Every time his adoptive brother came near him, he'd yell at him then push him back.

The thought of what his mother would say and then do after he came home, looking the way he did—skin of his elbow all broken open, and he barely able to walk in through the door, much less down the hallway that came off the foyer that was in front of the door—wasn't a good one. He could imagine it now; his momma would fuss and fret over him then she'd chide both him and Guyunis for their over-doing it in their rough housing then, quite possibly, the holiday would be cancelled or put on-hold for a while until she calmed down some. What they collected in mushrooms wasn't enough for even one bowl of gravy. It might fill the bottom of a bowl but it wouldn't fill an entire bowl up.

He was trying to calm himself down by thinking of the little "incident" where he, Lhaklar, and Lazeer had coated the entire kitchen floor of their old apartment with chocolate syrup one boring, rainy day a few years back; he and his brothers had fun on that day. The emptying of four chocolate syrup containers on the kitchen floor had been fun, as had their using the chocolate-covered floor as a sort of slip-n-slide. His crashing into the refrigerator, and then into the corner of the counter, hadn't been fun; his thigh had hurt all of the rest of the day, but he convinced himself that the pain was worth it. While having their mother come home from work early, finding the kitchen a mess, and them all covered in chocolate, wasn't fun, the clean-up was; they slipped and slid all over the place and they also threw chocolate on each other while they cleaned the mess up.

That "incident" wasn't making him feel any better. He was in too much pain to be cheered up by a former accident that he and his two, full-brothers had done together.

"How about the "incident" where you and Lazeer flooded the kitchen with popcorn?" he thought, trying his best to beat the pain. "Two years ago, you two decided you wanted to see how many bags of popcorn the microwave could take. You two stuffed four or five bags of unpopped popcorn in the microwave then you stepped back; the kitchen was flooded with popcorn after the bags exploded two minutes later. Momma was furious when she came home; her face went red after she found you two "swimming" in a sea of popcorn."

No go. Even though that was a fun memory, the pain that he was feeling was coming in throbbing droves. He was near to crying because of it. As he fought the pain, and the tears that wanted to come out, he thought about the black bag that the Chanterelle mushrooms were in. The bag was nearby. It was next to the pile of soggy leaves that Guyunis threw him in earlier. Guyunis could well continue his mushroom collecting while he got himself together... while he fought his pains and the urge to cry. He could collect what he needed then he could come back and wait until he was ready to go home. He didn't want to go home right now. He didn't want his mother fussing or fretting over him and he didn't want to be the cause of the holiday being put off until later or cancelled and he also didn't want to be the cause of his brother being punished.

He gasped after he collided with the ground then he simply looked around in a daze for a few seconds before trying to get to his feet. A yell of pain happened afterwards. He had never felt this pain before and he hoped that he'd never feel it again. The pain was like an electric current; it was coursing all throughout his left leg. It was driving him crazy and he couldn't do anything about it. Guyunis had done the right thing in coming over to see if he was alright; his adoptive brother had tried to keep him down on the ground twice, then he offered to carry him into the house after he teleported them home, then he asked if he needed or wanted anything. Guyunis was concerned about him. The feeling was mutual. He was also concerned about himself.

Being cold wasn't helping things either. He was shivering; his teeth were clacking madly; and the flesh on his arms was bumpy. Being cold wasn't helping him get over the pain. It was only making the pain feel worse.

"Guyunis—" he said. He zipped his mouth shut after saying his brother's name. He didn't know if it was psychological, or just plain truth, but the pain seemed to of gotten worse with just his talking.

"Hazaar?" Guyunis said back. He went to him quickly. "You alright? You want—"

"The bag," Hazaar said. He mustered just about all of his strength to speak, and to keep from crying out. "g-grab the bag with the mushrooms in it. Collect your mushrooms, get enough f-for your gravy then come back."

"No. I'm staying with you." Guyunis said.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Hazaar nearly shouted. He said nothing for a few seconds. He let himself calm down before speaking again. "I'll be fine. Just need to lie here and rest a while. Let whatever's going on run its course, y'know. Go collect the mushrooms for your gravy—when that bag's full, come back. We'll go home then."

"Mum—"

"Go, Guy!"

He looked at his bruder in shock. He couldn't believe what he was telling him to do! Collect mushrooms, while his younger bruder was lying on the stream bed, writhing in pain? He didn't want to collect mushrooms anymore. The interest in mushroom collecting had died out after he threw Hazaar. He wanted to take Hazaar home, to their mum, who wouldn't only take care of him but who would also make sure that he wasn't in pain anymore. He wasn't worried about being punished. He was worried about Hazaar having a broken or shattered leg. He was also worried about his bruder's injuries causing him to go into shock.

He hadn't meant for his rough housing to end like this, with his bruder lying on the stream bed, in pain. He hadn't meant to throw his bruder. He had meant to pick him up and then place him safely down behind him. Throwing him was a surprise and a terrible one at that; his heart was pounding away in his chest. He felt terrible for throwing Hazaar! One side of his brain was telling him to go to his bruder's side. To help him. To keep him calm and still, until the pain subsided enough so they could go home. The other side of his brain was telling him to leave his bruder be. To not touch or move him. To do as he told him to, but to also keep him talking.

He looked at his bruder for a second of two then, with quite a lot of effort, he walked off, towards the black bag that was next to the pile of leaves that he threw Hazaar in a few minutes ago. That throw was intentional and it hadn't hurt Hazaar any; the leaves had cushioned Hazaar's fall. Why in the vast Universe had the second throw gone so wrong? Instead of throwing Hazaar to the other side of the stream, he could of thrown him back into the leaf pile or, better yet, he could of not thrown him at all. He snatched the bag up quickly then turned to look at his bruder, who was now in a seated position. Hazaar's face was all squelched up. His bruder looked to be in great pain and he was the cause of it.

"Hazaar...!" he yelled at his bruder after he fell back against the stream bed. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Guy!" Hazaar yelled back.

He went to the cluster of mushrooms that was closest to him and his bruder hesitantly; he was just kneeling down before the cluster when he heard the sound of water swishing and then splashing. A slight turn of the head was done; from the corner of his eye, he saw a line of water rising up from the stream. The line of water danced in the cold air for a small second before settling down over his bruder's injured hip. His bruder had made that line of water rise out of the stream by simply throwing his hand towards the stream and then up, towards the sky. The water that Hazaar was manipulating around his injured hip was starting to change color when he decided to reach into the only pocket that was on his pants for his pocketknife.

Hazaar's action reminded him of what his mum did with him, after he was hit by a car, after he and Bile went to Amsterdam. He dislocated his hip or something; he was in a lot of pain at the time, yet his mum was able to take care of him and his pains by using an ability in the Elemental Water powers that she called Water Healing. She manipulated enough water to fit over his injured hip then she moved it around and around, just like Hazaar was doing now and, just like the water that was over his bruder's injured hip, the water that she was manipulating on his injured hip had changed colors.

 _"It's an advanced move in the Elemental Water power,"_ she said.

 _"Can you teach me, mum?"_ he remembered asking her.

 _"I will one day. You'll need to get a bit more steady and advanced in your powers before I can."_

While Hazaar was younger than he was he had a lot more control of his powers and he was also very steady when he used his powers; he guessed that his mum had taught all of his bruders that move. While he felt no jealousy over Hazaar knowing that "Water Healing" move he did feel a bit anxious to learn that move; it was a cool move and it was also a good move to know. If he got hurt, he could heal himself then continue on his way.

Skip-de-diddly-do; Guyunis just shattered his ankle, or leg! Bring him some water; he'll heal that up real quick then he'll either be walking or running down the road or sidewalk. Nothin' slowing him down. Nothin' gonna get him down. He's Mighty Man, hip-hip-hoorey!

He smiled at the thought of him being Mighty Man as he removed his old pocketknife from his pocket; the knife that he owned was exactly what his bruder had figured it was—a remnant of his past. Something that he got from the Meyer home. Old Man Meyer threw it out one day, after one of the handle sides fell off, and he, The Garbage Picker, as the Meyer children had sometimes called him, had picked it up and then kept it. The bolsters that were on either side of the handle were wobbly—he had to be careful when he pulled the blade out—, and the knife was half-dull, so he also had to watch himself when he took the blade out.

The idea of getting a new pocketknife had crossed his mind a few times in the last four months; a new pocketknife would be sharper, easier to open and close, and he wouldn't have to worry about it falling apart as he used it. Bile had a few pocketknives in his possession; he could of asked him about "borrowing" one until he got a new one to replace the one that he had... He hadn't asked because he had a sort of connection to this knife. The thing may be falling apart, and it may be half-dull, and it may be dangerous to use, but... well, it was hard to admit but the knife that he was using to cultivate half of the mushrooms that were in the cluster was the first knife that he had ever owned in his life. He had taken it, had cleaned it, then had hid it, so the Meyer family wouldn't know where it was or that he had it.

"Half a cluster is good enough," he thought while he placed the half of the Champignon or Meadow Mushroom cluster that he cultivated in the bag that he had in one of his hands.

There was a massive cluster of Steinpilz mushrooms growing around the tree nearest him; he went to them. He collected a lot of this type of mushroom, which was a reddish-brown color and pretty big in size, then he tied the bag off. The bag, a simple little cloth bag, that he found the day before, when he was taking a walk up the street that his family lived on, was pretty heavy now, so he did what he thought was right in spell-sending it home. After he sent the bag home, he turned. He made his way back to his bruder, who was still on the stream bed. Hazaar was in a seated position. He was doing nothing more than plain sitting, which he thought was strange; it took him a little while to see that his bruder had his arms wrapped around himself. Hazaar had either not been successful in trying to heal himself with that "Water Healing" move or he had gotten too cold to pursue the matter of healing himself.

He took half a dozen hurried steps towards his bruder then stopped in his tracks. He squinted his eyes a little. There was something off about the sugar cane-like grass that was on the other side of the shield. A section was missing. Gone. Not there anymore. Was that normal; did grass disappear in sections? He took two steps closer to his bruder then, when the figures, that were on the other side of the shield, appeared, he started running. He reached Hazaar's side within five seconds then, without missing a beat, he grabbed and then picked him up.

"Ow! Be careful will ya!" Hazaar snapped after he picked him up.

"Sorry," Guyunis said back. He carried Hazaar a few feet before stopping. "Quit thrashin'!"

"Put me down!" Hazaar yelled. "Let me use you as a balance—I can stand."

"You can't run good." he said back.

"Fuck you, man!" Hazaar growled lowly. "Put me down—I don't need your ass to lean on. I can walk, run, and skip if I want to. Even with my hip hurting me the way it is I can."

"You can run with your hip hurting-k you the way i-k-t is while being chased?" Guyunis asked quickly.

"Chased? By what, my shadow?" Hazaar snapped.

"By them," Guyunis said. He turned just so his brother could see the crowd that had formed on the other side of the shield.

He came close to laughing when he saw them. There was a lot of them and, just like Guyunis had said, they were all on the other side of the shield. They were fighting like a pack wolves that were at a kill and they were also pulling the sugar cane-like grass up like crazy. Granddad Cheshire was the one doing most of the grass pulling; he was pretty angry over something and he looked to be taking most of that anger out on the grass. Granddad Cheshire's wife, Ashaklar, was off to the side of her husband; she looked rather angry, but she was doing more voicing than she was acting-out. Grampy Shaam was behind his father; both men were fussing back and forth and, for some odd reason, his father was gesturing at him and Guyunis.

Gaajah and his two siblings, Selik and Uevaa, were behind the adults. They seemed to be bickering among themselves. While he couldn't really hear what all they were saying, he was sure that they were fighting and fussing among themselves over the fact that they couldn't get into the shield to retrieve him. There were no Goblins in sight and, as far as he knew, none were in the area, so he and Guyunis were fine. None of the people that were fighting on the other side of the shield could get in. They could see what was going on, and they could fight over what they were seeing, but they couldn't get in or do anything about what they were seeing. Shit, he could strip and then run around buck naked and they'd not be able to do a thing about it.

"We're commodities, Guy!" he said. The hint of a laugh was very evident in his tough-sounding voice.

"Can they ge-k-t in?" Guyunis asked.

"No Goblins with them. Unless they have "Goblin Help", they can't get in." he responded.

"G-k-oblin help?" Guyunis looked at him like he had grown a second head, that made him want to laugh even more.

"Yeah, Goblins are the only being in the Universe that can get into... well, anything." Hazaar replied. "Momma says that her shields are like nothing to them—they can walk in with no problem."

"Oh... okay."

"Yeah, now put me d—"

The ground suddenly and inexplicably erupted from under them; he was sent flying in one direction while Guyunis flew off in another. When he landed, he screamed loudly. The pain that had only just started to subside flared up like a firecracker; he grabbed at his left hip then rolled over so that he wasn't lying on it. He had only just finished rolling over when a pair of rough hands grabbed him. While Guyunis's hands were rough, they weren't as rough as the ones that were on him, so he automatically knew that it wasn't his brother that was grabbing him. He grabbed his lower lip in his teeth then forced himself around, so he could see who it was that was grabbing him and what was going on. His eyes, after he rolled over, went wide when he saw who it was that was grabbing him.

"Come on!" DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit said as he yanked his young grandson to his feet. "Get on your f—"

From what he was able to decipher from Gaajah, who was rather excited when he got in contact with him, Hazaar wasn't only injured but he remained either on his side or in a seated position on the stream bank for all of five minutes before he showed up. He was pretty irked over Gaajah's up and leaving the session that he was holding; while the older of his second set of children was young and naive, he wasn't one to up and leave or disappear. With his attention being focused on giving Uevaa a brief training session, he had forgotten that Gaajah went off to use the bathroom. He hadn't much liked the idea of finding only Selik in the area that he was training his children in. After he and Uevaa finished their session, he voiced that plenty.

"Selik! Your brother, where's he?" he asked after taking note of Gaajah's absence.

"I dunno, prob'bly still using the bathroom or something." his youngest son and child replied.

"You see where he went?" he asked Selik.

"No, he just went into the forest." his son answered.

Instead of continuing with the training session, he waited and he was nervous the entire damn time that he did so. His two, young sons didn't know how to act while out in the wild; they couldn't hunt, they didn't know how to purify water so it was safe to drink, they couldn't make a fire out of the materials that were around them... while they might be able to find something to hunker down in, they couldn't make any makeshift shelters and they didn't know how to protect themselves against animals that meant them harm. He waited on pins and needles for his son to return to the area that he found for them to train in; there was a nice patch of trampled grass in the area. He paced back and forth all the while he was waiting for his son to return. After five minutes passed, he decided to use his communicator; Gaajah had one, and it was charged. He checked it before they left the ship that morning. His heart was in his throat when he used his communicator; while he was hard and stern on his sons he did love them. His sons—all of his children, actually—were very important to him. He didn't want to think of what he'd do if he ever lost one of his children.

A sigh came out of him after Gaajah replied to his message; his son was fine. Nothing had happened to him. He was just off somewhere, doing what only the Gods knew. He demanded that his son return to the area that he and his two other children were in and, surprisingly, his son had come back with a request of his own, which had taken him by complete surprise. Gaajah had told him to get to the area that he was in and fast; the idea of his son being injured, or that something had happened during the alleged bathroom trip, had crossed his mind when his son said that. His son's request was a strange one and he hadn't understood it... or, until his son said that Hazaar was in the area, that was.

"What do you mean you "see" Hazaar?" he asked. The idea of his son making up a story was thought of. A small part of him had actually believed Gaajah, though.

"He's on the other side of the shield where I'm at, dad." Gaajah replied. "He's—"

"What's he doing?" he asked. He was still holding onto the notion that his son was trying to cover his reason of being away for so long up.

"Lying on the stream bank. He looks hurt, dad. He was fighting that same guy that attacked me, Selik, and Baruk when I found him."

A description of the area where his son was, and then a description of what Hazaar was wearing, had followed; while he had a mind to pop his son one on the bottom when he arrived at his location, he retained that disciplinary minding. One look of what his son was so excited over was all it took for him to go into high-gear.

From what Gaajah had told him, the dark-skinned man and Hazaar had come out from the dark forest that was on the valley's left side. The two stood in place for a few minutes then they walked over to where the stream was; a fight broke out between the two of them after they reached the stream. While the details of the fight were sketchy, Gaajah was pretty sure about the dark-skinned man picking up and then throwing Hazaar across the stream; a call to Tazir was made after he saw what was going on in the area, and after Gaajah explained what he saw. Tazir's showing up was expected; Ashaklar, her pussy-for-a-husband Cheshire Ubalki, and his father showing up was a surprise.

He was the main instigator of the fighting that was still happening on the other side of the shield; he didn't like Mr. Might-And-Mighty at all. The man walked around with a too-confident air around himself that was sick and he acted like he was the "Model Father and Husband", when he wasn't. Cheshire Ubalki was nothing in comparison to himself. The man was a farmer and a miner, not a conqueror. He might of created three, back-to-back sons with his wife but that meant nothing; his sons were no one in the Universe. No one knew them. They were plain, common people, with no fine pedigree or history backing their names. The fact that the man thought himself a better grandfather than he was a hoot. Patience and understanding didn't make conquering offspring; they made for lazy offspring that wanted to do nothing but laze around all day, collecting dust.

Selik and Uevaa showed up right when the dark-skinned man rushed over to Hazaar; he saw the man attack Hazaar and it was that attack that spurred him to touch the ground to see if there were any weak areas in or around the shield. There was one twenty yards from him, right where the stream went into the shield. He went to it then he did a dive. He went head-first into the ground then, after he entered the soft soil, and crossed his arms over his chest, he started to twirl. He became a drill. He drilled himself under the shield and then he drilled himself right over to where the dark-skinned man was standing.

The expected happened; the man that attacked Hazaar had flown one way while Hazaar, his young grandson, who had been missing for almost a year, had gone the other way. He got out from the crater that he created then he rushed over to his grandson; what was happening now wasn't what he had expected.

The grandfather arrives to protect his injured grandson from his attacker; the grandson embraces his grandfather then begs him to take him away from the threat that means to hurt him. That was what he had expected to happen. Hazaar fighting him, and mouthing off at him, wasn't what he had expected to happen and he was also not expecting for the dark-skinned man to come rushing over either. He had just gotten through swatting Hazaar on the shoulder when the dark-skinned man rushed over. He turned to face him quickly.

"Duru! Down the shield! Down the—" his father was saying on the other side of the shield.

"Drop the shield, let one of us come claim Hazaar!" his son, Tazir, was saying.

"I have more than one bone to pick with you, Bub." DuruVile growled at Guyunis. "I'll let one go, for now. Step back. Scram. Disappear. Leave my grandson be." he threw the double-breasted, brown-colored peacoat that he was wearing off when Guyunis continued to come towards him. "I mean it, I'll put a Holy hurting on you if you d—"

"Beyuk goni shondu." Guyunis said back.

Guyunis sprang forward on legs that felt more like rubber than legs; when he collided with the figure that, again, looked similar to Bile in appearance, he heard a loud whoophing sound. The figure and he tumbled over Hazaar then, once they landed on the ground, they started pummeling one another with punches.

After dishing out a good number of punches, DuruVile started spitting out a torrent of sentences, in multiple languages, in an attempt to get Guyunis to back off before he got hurt. Since Guyunis didn't know what he was saying, he didn't. DuruVile, once he saw that his foe wasn't going to back off from fighting him, started putting every ounce of strength that he had into his punches. He jumped to his feet after one of his punches drove Guyunis off then, after he regained his footing, he lunged at Guyunis. His fists struck Guyunis on the face, stomach, and chest several times then he found himself wheeling backwards after a stiff punch from Guyunis caught him in the jaw.

"Hey!" DuruVile yelled after Guyunis went off towards Hazaar. He sprang up when Guyunis grabbed Hazaar by the arm. "Oh no you don't!"

Guyunis, the brother that was born out of a different woman, and the brother that DuruVile didn't know he had, turned on a dime then kicked his leg up; DuruVile dodged the kick that was meant for him then swung his fist. Guyunis made his first error in the fight by grabbing his foe's fist. DuruVile's mouth curved in an evil sneer as he electrocuted him; Guyunis screamed for all of two seconds before swinging the hand that was free. He drove his foe off with a stiff upper-cut to the shoulder then he jumped on him before he could get to his feet. Guyunis tried to duplicate the move that he did on the half-blood red/half-imperial red, Bile-like fellow last month on his current foe after he jumped on him; black and near-clear, electric currents had just started coming out from his backside when he found himself being flung from the back of his foe. He found himself in trouble a second later because, after his foe threw him from his back, he turned then came at him with such force that he was barely able to get out of the way, much less get fully back into the fight.

"Try to subdue me? You trying to subdue DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit, Punk?" his foe, who had just identified himself as some-DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit, snarled at him angrily. "I'll make you eat your brains for trying to subdue me!"

An energy band, the likes, of which, he had never seen before, shot out from his foe's hand. Before the band could separate from the man's hand, the man grabbed it then started using it like a whip. He swung it up high, then he brought it down so fast and hard that he was barely able to register the fact that the band's intended target was him. He screamed, then scrambled to his feet after it touched his shoulder; two more screams escaped him as the energy whip struck his buttocks and then his back. He ran off a few feet before turning and then trying to get back into the fight, only to be driven back by two energy balls that sent him sailing back. The man charged at him, wielding the energy whip menacingly, all the while saying again and again how he was going to get him for hurting his sons and his grandsons; the people that were on the other side of the shield had long since quieted down. He could tell that they were watching his and his foe's battle and he could also tell that they were rooting for his foe to win.

That, in a sense, pissed him off. Why in the Universe did the bad guy always get rooted for in a fight or in a battle? Why couldn't the good guy, the one that was trying to set things right, or who was trying to protect someone younger or smaller than himself, be cheered or rooted for? Here he was, protecting his younger bruder from this big, strong man, who meant his bruder harm; was he being cheered or rooted for? That was a big Hell No! The people on the other side of the shield were rooting for his opponent, not he. Hazaar, he knew, was rooting for him; he had heard Hazaar say for him to get his foe several times and he had also heard his bruder telling him to be careful time and again all throughout this battle.

"Not so easy facing someone that isn't a kid is it?" his foe roared as he slashed the energy whip, which had gone from a bright purple color to a bright white color, sideways. He yanked his head back as fast as he could, which, he found out very quickly, wasn't fast enough, because, not only did the tip of the whip zap him, it also opened a good-sized gash across his brow.

He ran into the dark forest at the last second, right when it started to snow. The flakes started slowly, and they were tiny, but they grew in size quickly. His foe roared in rage when he closed his eyes; he heard his foe slashing, cutting, and then destroying the foliage of the forest around him for a few seconds then he heard nothing but heavy breathing. As he stood in place, he remembered something that he was taught when he was a student at Goboshu's Academy of Meanness; his teacher, a Miss. Eseer, had taught the Darkness Classes for all of fifty years before moving on to teach a much more advanced class. Before she moved on, she taught him and his classmates how to make one think they couldn't breathe by way of making them go cold.

"This move, class, is one used when things aren't going your way. For when you're in danger, or for when your opponent means to hurt or destroy you." this teacher, who was hot as hell, had told the class one fine afternoon. "It gives you an edge, see. A mean edge—a chilled edge, might I say? You can either get away while your opponent is gasping for air or you can destroy your opponent; he or she won't be able to defend him or herself. He or she will be too busy worrying about trying to breathe to fight you off."

The flurry turned into a heavy snow as he remained where he was, remembering what he was taught when he was a student in Goboshu's Academy of Meanness. His brow stung like hell; he could feel blood trickling down the right side of his face. He didn't much like the feeling of being beaten or driven off and he didn't much like the idea of leaving Hazaar out in the open either; what he really didn't like was the fact that he couldn't hear his foe anymore. The heavy breathing had stopped. The man was either standing in place, or he was moving off or around very slowly and carefully, so he couldn't hear or detect him. A shiver wracked his body when a chilly breeze struck his right side. He shivered at once then went still; he had just gone back to standing still when his eyes shot open.

"No! Leave me—" Hazaar's yell, the one that made him open his eyes, was cut off.

Visibility was poor, but he was able to see the man that he was fighting easily; the man was grabbing his bruder by the arm. He was yanking him to his feet and it looked like he was brandishing some weapon too. Guyunis roared as he raced towards his foe; it was just a short distance of a few yards before he reached him. When he reached him, he slid to the side then flexed his leg up and then out. A wave of crackling white energy struck the man that had his bruder by the arm; the man yelled as he was propelled back. He kept the man running by shooting two more energy waves, and then a purple subsonic current, at him; when he had the man a decent distant from Hazaar, he stopped attacking him. The man, who was now sans his colonial-like shirt and vest, glared at him after he regained his balance. The tree that the man was pushed against was a young one; it was badly burned, so it was probably going to die now, thanks to his energy and subsonic attacks. He didn't really feel bad for killing the tree. There were many around like it and his reason for killing it was right. His foe was trying to hurt his bruder; he had only been trying to keep his foe from hurting his bruder and he had also been trying to run him off.

The man had looked strong with his shirt on; he looked twice as strong now with his shirt off. He was lean-bodied; his chest and stomach were very nicely chiseled in good, thick muscle, while his arms were a "tinge" more slender in comparison. As he stood there, looking at his now de-shirted opponent, he found himself thinking how strange his arms looked—while there were muscle on them, the muscle didn't really compare well to the muscle that was on his chest and stomach. The man's face was hard and experienced-looking; the glowing green eyes, that had yellow pupils in their centers, had a lot of experience in them too. The dark, right side of the man's chest had a bunch of veins on it, while the left side of the man's chest, which was silver-colored, had just one lone vein on it; there were a series of scars going across the left side of the man's chest. The scar that was on the man's stomach was deep and grotesque-looking.

When the man mock-lunged him, his collarbone stuck out prominently; the fang-like canines, that were on the man's upper and lower jaws, along with the rest of the teeth that were in the man's mouth, were a strange, dark white color.

The man retreated to the tree that he forced him against after he mock-lunged him several times; while he didn't press his back against the bark of the ruined tree, his back was very close to it. He backed off with each mock-lunge, then he imitated the man's mocking when he retreated to the tree. The man hissed and snarled and spoke in a language that he didn't understand a few times before lunging at him again; this lunge was the real deal. The man put everything that he had into this lunge. He decided to not back off or run away; he met the man's lunge head-on, which he quickly found was the wrong thing to do.

"Quit playing with him, Duru!" one of the people—a bigger, taller, and stronger man, that had half-maroon and half-pink skin—that were on the other side of the shield barked loudly. "Finish him! Destroy him, Lad!"

His foe was charging an electric attack when he lunged at him. When they collided, he released that charge. He went flying more than a dozen feet back before landing in front of the stream. He was exhausted, he was disoriented, and he had a feeling that his foe knew these things, because here he came. He had a mean look on his face and he also had a long knife in his hand; the man obviously meant to do away with him and, possibly, harm his injured bruder afterwards. After taking in three deep breaths he forced himself to his feet then turned to face his opponent one last time. His muscles relaxed, smoothed out, became loose, as he walked towards his foe. His face took on a cold appearance; his breathing evened out as his blood pressure slowed. When the man lunged at him, knife at-the-ready, he held his hand out; when the index and middle fingers of his right hand touched the center of the man's chest he smiled wickedly.

"Yimkeph e tus umph." he said. The man's eyes went wide. "Bukari dushon lok." the man's body convulsed twice as he took two steps back. "Nerobi laeri doon."

The long knife, that the man was holding, fell from his hand. The man brought both of his hands up to his chest then started to drop to his knees. Guyunis kept his fingers on his foe's chest for a few seconds more before dropping them; a blue mist followed his hand as it dropped to his side. DuruVile's half-black, half-silver complexion changed to a full, white-blue color as he started to gasp for breath; the people that were on the other side of the shield took a step forward before stopping. They watched as Guyunis turned then went towards Hazaar. When Guyunis reached Hazaar's side, he wasted no time in bending down or in grabbing or in slinging him over his shoulder.

The last thing that Guyunis and Hazaar heard, before disappearing from the area, was a loud, resonant, _no_ being sounded.


	33. Chapter 33

The doors, two blue-glass sliders, slid open to admit the procession of doctors, nurses, the patient, and the patient's family into the facility after the people that were in front of the procession reached and then stepped on the touch-sensitive pad that was in front of the hospital. After they entered the building, the doctors and nurses continued working on either the instruments that were connected to the patient or on calming the patient or the patient's hysterical family; one of the nurses grabbed the arms of most of the patient's family when they reached a corridor that a pair a swing-out doors were at the end of. She held four back as the procession went through the doors then she called for help, after the four that she grabbed started fighting her. Two male nurses came to her aid at once; they helped her subdue the four family members while the procession hurried along, towards the elevator that'd take them to one of the other floors that were in the building.

"Blood pressure's dropping," one of the remaining nurses said after the procession entered the elevator.

"Heart rate's becoming more elevated by the second," another nurse said.

"Core body temperature currently at eighty-six degrees," the first nurse said.

The elevator gave off a beeping sound before starting to move up, towards the desired floor that's button was pushed. When the remaining family, the ones that were more linked to the patient, started bickering about how slow the machine was going, the head doctor in the procession warned them that, if they didn't stop fighting, they'd be forced to remain behind. When the elevator stopped, then the doors slid open, the procession ran out; the patient didn't so much as jerk on the gurney as much as he convulsed. The red straps, that were holding the man in place, groaned as the patient moved to the left and then to the right; one of the nurses worked feverishly to try to calm the patient. The patient, who had obviously not been calmed, said something that the nurse didn't understand. He started shaking his head back and forth after speaking his unknown sentence.

"What happened to this man?" one of the two doctors that were in the group asked. "Uekle, try to stop him from shaking his head. Does anyone know what happened to this man? Why is he like this, what were his activities before he started feeling the effects of Hypothermia?"

They wheeled the patient into a vacant room then set to work. The straps that kept the man in place, on the gurney, were released, then the man was lifted and then placed on a white-sheeted hospital bed. All matter of machines and monitors were connected to him; a nurse worked a pair of scissors up the man's pant legs while another nurse put in an IV drip. All of the monitors and machines, when connected, went crazy at once. A reading of eighty-four was printed from one of the monitors; the machine that measured and monitored one's heart rate spun out erratic numbers, while the blood pressure monitor showed a substantial and possibly deadly decrease in the patient's blood pressure.

One of the nurses that followed the procession from start to finish left the room quickly; when she returned, she had a cooler full of heat packs with her. The nurses in the room threw the hot packs on the patient quickly; heat packs were applied to the patient's armpits, to his groin, and around his neck. Another nurse came in with more hot packs. These were simply dumped over the patient's torso. Yet another nurse came in with a heated blanket; all efforts to bring the patient's core body temperature up seemed to be for nothing—the temperature dropped a degree right in front of their eyes. When the temperature dropped to eighty-one degrees, one of the doctors grabbed and then pulled two of the three remaining family members out of the room; the sole remaining family member stood at the patient's head while a hallway interrogation of the two family members that were removed from the room was done.

The lone family member snarled at anyone who came near him or who acted like they were about to remove him from the room that the patient, who was his son, was in.

"That temperature can't go down any lower without organ failure happening," one of the nurses said after the patient's core body temperature dropped to eighty degrees.

"Mr. Surfeit," the doctor, who left the room with the two other family members, ran up to the sole remaining family member that was in the room. "Please, help us. Give us some information on what happened prior to his Hypothermia."

ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, the sole surviving son of RaalVile Dawlur Surfeit and Frahfrie Cloridona, stood at his son's head; the need to protect his only son was very high, as was his want for the doctors and nurses to hurry in their care of him. He was clueless as to what to do now; he was a conqueror. He wasn't a doctor, nor was he a nurse, and, other than knowing the basics on how to treat minor bumps, bruises, and cuts, he had no medical training. All he could do was stand and watch as the activity around his son increased; the doctors and nurses worked around the clock, either keeping an eye on the machines that were showing further drops in his son's core body temperature or blood pressure, or replacing the hot packs that were on his son's body.

He barely remembered the first five minutes after his son was felled by his opponent; he experienced a state of paralytic shock at that time. After his initial yell of _no_ , he wasn't able to say anything, much less move. He acted fast, after his shock wore off; he found the place that his son had found and then used to get into the shield's interior then he leaped into the air. He drilled a tunnel right beside the one that his son had made some minutes before he then, after crashing through the soil that was on the shield's interior side, he went to his son's side.

His son did nothing more than lie in place after he reached his side; his breathing was raspy... hard... alarmingly erratic, and his flesh was as cold as ice, and his body was shivering and convulsing like crazy. He took his son to the shield's other side quickly then he teleported to the reputably best hospital that was on his and his family's birth planet; Bolshaviks wasn't around when he was alive that first time, before he went into Limbo. The hospital's ratings were very high, and most of his family regarded it favorably, so he went to it, then started shouting for help. A stretcher, manned by a trio of doctors and nurses, came out of the four-story building after he shouted for help twice; the instruments that were on the stretcher were attached to his son while they were en-route to the building. He remained at his son's head the entire time.

His son couldn't talk very well; whatever he said came out either jumbled or incoherent. His son was scared, and he was trying to get some message out to them, but he couldn't, thanks to his labored breathing. It sounded like each breath that his son took was painful and, as if confirm this, he kept grabbing at his chest and throat after they arrived at the hospital. One of the doctors had to secure his son's arms to his sides with the bands that were on the stretcher to stop him from hurting himself. His son's arms being restrained hadn't helped matters any—his breathing was still horrible!

When he saw the dark-skinned man's hand piston out towards his son's chest, he figured that his son would cast it, and whatever weapon it was holding, to the side. His son mustn't of been able to catch the man's hand in time; while no wound was present on Duru's chest, there was no question about it that the man had done something to make him be like this. Duru wouldn't be in this hospital, or on this hospital bed, if something wasn't wrong with him. His son had looked so strong out there... shit, he had looked ready to end the fight. He had looked stronger than his opponent and he had actually beaten his opponent back. Twice!

Gaajah, Uevaa, and Selik—Duru's three young children—had cheered their father all the way through his fight; they went quiet in the last five minutes of the fight then, after their father dropped to his knees, they rushed forward. It took the combined efforts of Tazir and Ashaklar and Cheshire Ubalki to hold them back; he was too busy in getting to his son to worry about them. After retrieving his son, he yelled for Tazir and the Ubalki's to take the three youngsters back to camp, which they did. Tazir, Kuruk and Irka, Trobrencus and Bahne, and his son's wife, Cyla, showed up at the hospital after the stretcher was brought out. Tazir, Kuruk, Cyla, and Irka were pulled back by one of the nurses after they entered the building; Trobrencus and his wife were pulled out from the room that his son was wheeled into soon after they entered it. He was the last remaining family member of his son's in the room and, by the Gods, he was going to remain in the room. He'd fight off a million doctors and nurses just to remain at his son's side. He'd fight the damn military on Gamma Vile to stay at his son's side if he had to.

"Mr. Sur—"

"I don't know what the bastard did to him!" ShaamVile nearly yelled at the doctor, who was at his elbow.

"Mr. Surfeit, please. Calm down, we're only trying to help. Please, tell me what hap—"

"He was fighting someone—in battle, on Earth. The bastard did something... touched him or something. I don't know what he did!" ShaamVile said in a very elevated tone of voice.

"His kidneys!" one of the nurses shrieked.

The doctor that was at his elbow grabbed him at the same time that another heated blanket was thrown over his son; he sent the doctor wheeling back with a good punch to the nose then went back to his post. In an effort to get his son's body temperature up he blew a heated breath on him; the monitors that were connected to his son beeped loudly, then went quiet, only to beep again. He blew on his son for a good, long, two minutes before stopping. One of the nurses looked at the readings on the monitors then shook her head; his attempt to increase his son's body temperature had failed. He tried the same move four more times before stopping again. He shook his head madly... This wasn't happening! The parent was the one that should go before the child! The child shouldn't be the one to die before the parent; this was a nightmare come true! A parent's worst nightmare and he was experiencing it!

He felt drained. Worthless. The doctors and nurses that were in the room continued to work for all of five minutes before stopping and then looking at him. Their faces said it all for him—his son's major organs were failing him; they couldn't stabilize his son's temperature, or stop his organs from failing. One by one, the doctors and nurses left, until it was just him and his son in the room. He felt the much-hated taste of salty tears in the back of his throat as he moved to his son's side; he grabbed his son's hand then squeezed it tightly after he reached his side. After the chair, that one of the nurses brought him, was placed behind him, he sat in it. Heavily.

"Son..." he choked back the tears. They were threatening now, wanting to come out. "Son, I... I only did what I thought was right in bringing you here. If I had known that they'd give up on you... I would of taken you to a different hospital."

"Mi... ife." his son said between heaving gasps. "Mi-ife, mi-ife."

"You're the best damn son a man could ask for. I'm glad to of sired and raised you." he said. Tears were very close now.

"Ila... Ila... mi-ife, Ila."

He didn't know what his son was saying. He thought that his son was saying that he loved him, which was touching, but he didn't know what _mi-ife_ meant. His son, his only son, and only surviving child, said _mi-ife_ several times then said nothing more for a few seconds. It was during his quiet spell that he started coughing. He coughed for all of thirty seconds before saying the same phrase again. He squeezed his son's hand tight; not wanting to let got, not wanting to see his son go, not wanting to see his son take his last heaving breath or slip into that coma-like blackness. He wished he had some Herleven potion on him; if that potion had been on-hand, he would of given it to his son. Duru would of drunk it down then he would of died; after the machines stopped working, signalling the end of his son's ordeal, he'd slit his hand. With his blood he'd bring his son back from Limbo; they'd embrace, then the whole affair of what his son had gone through would be over.

He had no Herleven potion on him. He was potion-less. All he had on him was a wallet, a wand, a checkbook, a key-ring that had several keys on it, a knife, and a small gun; none of that would do his ailing son any good. Oh, the knife or the gun would help end his son's pain. One slash, or the pull of a trigger, would end his son's pain, but he didn't want to do that. Duru was his son; he had no right in ending his son's life or in ending his son's pain. That was the Gods' job. His job was to be a father; to be a shoulder when a shoulder was needed and to be there to help in a matter that he was needed to assist in.

"Son, I don't really understand what you're saying, but I'm sure that, whatever it is, it's important." he said.

"Mi-ife! Mi-ife...C-c-c-c-c-c-c..."

"Duru, don't—"

"C-la! C-la! Mi-ife! Bri-mi-i-ife!"

His son said that over and over again for a few minutes before stopping; he started concentrating on his breathing, which hadn't gotten any better. If anyone had asked him, his son's breathing had gotten worse. He kissed his son's forehead then stood up; he was just telling his son that he'd look after his wife and kids when his son started thrashing his arms around. He grabbed the arm that was nearest him, then pinned it to his son's side, then he grabbed the other before it dawned on him what _mi-if_ , _Ila,_ and _C-la_ meant. He left the room quickly, grabbed the nearest nurse, then told her to grab his son's wife. He returned to the room after the nurse said that she would; the nurse rushed down the hall, then got into the elevator, then punched the button that would take her to the first floor of the building while he sat back in the chair that he was given to sit in.

While he waited for his son's wife he talked to his son. He told him how great of a son he was. He told him how great of a father, grandfather, great grandfather, and great-great grandfather he was then he told him how proud he was on him. He also told him how much he wished things could be changed or reversed.

Duru said nothing. He just breathed. When Cyla came in, his son was still doing nothing more than breathing. Shaam was amazed at how long his son had stayed from slipping away. The monitors and machines were beeping incessantly now and one of the machines was saying that both of his son's kidneys were gone. His son's liver vitals were poor, so his liver was going too. It wouldn't be long before the Gods came to take his son from the ones that he loved. First the kidneys, then the liver, then more organs would follow, then sleep would happen, then the machines would stop running. The dreaded dead-line would show; his son would be gone. Funeral plans would have to be made. The will would have to be taken out and read. His son's last wishes would have to be carried out. His adult sons would have to agree on who took over their sire's conquered realms. He'd move in with Cyla and his son's three young ones; he'd help to raise his son's three children. He'd help them in their schooling and in their training and he'd also help them in the grieving process.

He was just thinking about what he'd tell Angel, after she and her children were rescued from Earth—the fact that his son had battled the black-skinned man only to protect his young grandson made a smile spread across his face. his son had fought that guy correctly. he was trying to protect his young grandson from the enemy and he was dying for that exact, honorable, reason—,when his daughter-in-law, Cyla, walked into the room.

Cyla Surfeit, born under the name of Dybla, had a light blue kerchief held against her mouth; her beady blue eyes were moist and her normally smooth and fine face was puffy and red in places. Shaam remembered that, at one time, he had found the woman to be of plain stock and of plain looks; she didn't look like that now. Beautiful in her sorrow. Gorgeous in her grief. She was a woman of total beauty, and she passed that to her female offspring well.

"Sh-Sh-Sh-Shaam—" she said. Her hitching sobs were loud. He went to her, then escorted her to his son's side. She fell across his son's chest almost at once. "Duru! Duru! What's wrong with him? What's wrong with my husband, why's he like this? Why aren't th-th-th—"

Duru ran his hand through his wife's wavy, red hair. He gave the two strands, that were dyed a purple color, a slight, teasing tug before placing his hand under his wife's chin. The love that the two had for one another was very evident. Shaam was able to see it. He gave the two some time together while he took in the woman that he was probably going to be living with for a few thousand years.

She stood a good, six feet tall—with most of that height accredited to the length of her legs—, and she had light blue skin that was very smooth. The nose that was on her face was barely there; just a little bump sticking out from where a nose would normally be. The mascara that was around her eyes was running, as was the green eye-shadow that was on her eyelids; her green-colored lipstick smeared across his son's chest when she kissed him. The green gown that she was wearing had dark green and red, floral and flame-like designs on the front; the belled cuffs, that were on the ends of the gown's arms, were turned inside out. The inside of the dress had the same floral and flame-like designs on it. The gown had an attached hood on it too. There was nothing on her small feet; the black heels, that she was wearing earlier, were at the room's entrance. She left them behind, after he started leading her to his son. Each of her fingernails were a painted green color; the 14kt celtic knotted ring, that had a red diamond in its center, was the same one that his son gave her on their wedding day.

This fine woman had conceived for his son seven times. Six single children were born alive, while one of the twins died while in the womb and one of the birthed children hadn't lived long; she and his son had a long-lasting legacy of young ones that carried within their veins the blood of his son. Shaam couldn't be prouder. He beamed in his pride, which caused him to feel more pain. He was just letting out a shaky sob when his uncle walked into the room.

"I don't need permission to enter this room you Yanks!" his uncle snapped at the nurse that followed him into the room. "This is my great-nephew; this is family. I belong here!"

"Sir—" the nurse said, pleadingly.

"Shaam, what's the report? What's going on with Duru?" TrobrencusVile practically dragged the nurse as he walked over to his nephew. When ShaamVile said nothing back, TrobrencusVile swung his hand; a loud, slapping sound flooded the room, as did a loud gasp. "Shaam! Time's the essence here! Pull yourself together, tell me what's going on."

"They c-can't stabilize him." ShaamVile said back. The left side of his face stung, but he barely noticed it. "His temperature continues to drop. They cah-cah-ahn't s-s-s-stabilize him."

"Uh-kuh... uh-kuh..." DuruVile said. Cyla looked at Trobrencus, then pushed herself up, off her husband.

"Trob, come. My... my husband wants to see you." Cyla said. She wiped her face with the kerchief, smearing more of the makeup that she wore in the process.

"What's wrong with the people in this building? Instead of going around, doing as you wish, you should all be in this room, preventing what's going on." TrobrencusVile said of the doctors and nurses that worked in the building; when he reached Duru's side, he softened up. He grabbed Duru's hand, then leaned over, so he could hear what Duru said more clearly. "Duru, don't you worry none of the ones you love being left behind. They'll be fine; you just keep breathing. Keep the fight going to live. Hear me? You keep—"

"Yim-yim-yim... keh-puh." DuruVile said.

"Huh?" TrobrencusVile said back.

"Yi-yimk-k... Yimkehf..." DuruVile said.

TrobrencusVile leaned back; totally and completely confused with what he had just heard from his great-nephew. Yimkehf wasn't a word in anyone's vocabulary. It sounded similar to a word that was in a spell that he was taught when he was enrolled as a student in Goboshu's Academy of Meanness; Yimkeph was the word that fronted the first segment of a spell that made one think that they couldn't breathe because they were cold. Duru wouldn't know the spell. He had no education in Goboshu's Academy of Meanness, yet here he was, saying a word that sounded so very similar to the front-word of the Hyporespiria spell.

Duru was very cold; his flesh was flecked in goosebumps all over. He couldn't stop shivering and he was breathing very roughly. His flesh was a blue-white color, his pupils were dilated, and his speech wasn't very clear. He still had a good grip with his hand, but his muscle strength was next to nothing; these were all signs Hypothermia, a serious bout of the condition and, if he wasn't correct, the monitors that were on the other side of the room were saying that his great-nephew's kidneys and liver were done-in. Duru was knocking on the door of death; where the hell where the doctors and nurses? He was furious over the fact that there was just one lone nurse in the room... and she wasn't doing anything but standing in place!

"Duru..." TrobrencusVile said. He swallowed heavily then leaned in closer. "The word that you just said, you wouldn't, by any chance, be trying to say Yimkeph would you?"

"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!" DuruVile's head jerked up and down hard before coming to a rest. "Yimkehf e t-t-t-tos..."

"Get the doctors and nurses in here now!" TrobrencusVile roared as he threw his arms back.

Shaam was much too hysterical to do anything, so he barked at the lone nurse to get a trove of doctors and nurses in the room and now. The nurse ran out of the room quickly; when she returned, she had company—four doctors, all men, and six nurses, three of whom were also men—with her. The six medical professionals watched as TrobrencusVile pressed the index and middle fingers of his left hand on DuruVile's heaving chest. TrobrencusVile's face took on a bright look as he spoke three sentences; the words, of which, he spoke were neither understood nor known by the people that were in the room. DuruVile coughed four times. His color started to change slowly; going from blue-white to a pale gray, before his normal, two-tone black and silver colors started to return. TrobrencusVile, when he saw that his great-nephew's colors were returning to normal, stepped back; a red mist trained his fingers when he removed them from DuruVile's chest.

The doctors and nurses stood in silence for a little while before coming forward. They started working on the patient that was in the room quickly.

"Blood pressure's stabilizing," one of the nurses said.

"Kidneys and liver are returning," another nurse said.

"Temperature's going up." one of the doctors said. "Eighty-nine... ninety... ninety-two..."

"Heart rate is returning to normal," another doctor said.

"Patient stabilizing! The patient is stabilizing, get everyone out of here. Let us work, please." another doctor said. He ushered everyone out of the room quickly then closed and locked the door afterwards.

 _From the Gamma Vile Gluk Gadrel, December 3, 4100 (Page 1)  
_ _Shai5 Ruler Discharged After Spending A Week In The Hospital_

 _The people of the Universe were in for a shock last week, after word spread that the ruthless conqueror of the Binya Galaxy, the Keyla Galaxy, the Xeno Object, and the planet Shai5 was hospitalized for injuries sustained during battle on Earth; now, a week after that shock was felt, a further shock is ricocheting through the Universe, after the fearless DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit was discharged from Bolshaviks Hospital, a hospital located in the Keenria District of Gamma Vile._

 _While the truth of the reason for why the Shai5 ruler was hospitalized isn't known there are rumors circulating that the conqueror, the only surviving son of ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit and Egla Shaar, was trying to protect one of the missing members of his family; doctors that treated the Shai5 ruler claim that he was admitted to the hospital after sustaining life-threatening Hypothermia on Earth. The cause of the Hypothermia isn't known and none of the Surfeit clan are talking on what happened. DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit was admitted to the hospital by his father, the much feared ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, on the morning of November 26; ShaamVile Surfeit is claiming that he will never take one of his injured kin to the hospital again._

 _Bolshaviks is a top-rated hospital, with top-quality doctors and nurses, yet reports from inside the hospital claim that the only surviving son of RaalVile Dawlur Surfeit and Frahfrie Cloridona wasn't happy with the medical treatment that was given to his son. DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit returned to Earth after his release from the hospital. His health status is said to be good._

That was what the newspaper said a week ago, but none of them saw or even knew of its existence; they didn't get the Gamma Vile paper, nor any of the other papers that were published outside of Earth. If they received that paper, they would of started asking questions on what happened and on who it was that their ruthless conqueror for a grandfather was trying to protect.

Besides Hazaar coming home with a worse limp, and Guyunis returning with a few facial cuts and some torso bruises, their celebration of the American holiday of Thanksgiving went off exceptionally well. All of their usual habits were done on the holiday; he and Bile did their dirty jokes, Bile chased them around the kitchen with a wooden spoon, Lazeer chimed in with his own jokes, and he made the turkey "dance" after the neck and innards were removed. Guyunis's mushroom gravy was made; the entire meal was completed at eight.

They ate the meal happily, then they helped to clean the kitchen, and then the dining room, up afterwards. Their November allowances were given out the day after their celebration so, they were able to go out and grab their usual monthly's—their magazines, smokes, animal food, and model kits.

The last few days of November, and the first few days of December, were peaceful. Nothing bad or overly exciting happened. The model kits that they purchased were built and then displayed, their smokes were smoked, their magazines were read, and they hung out with their friends. Mr. Leinart and Mr. Ballal came over on the first of December for a visit; Mr. Ballal seemed to be an alright human. He was very polite and honest and he seemed to be rather cheery. Mr. Ballal was trying to make friends with the family and, as far as he and his brothers could tell, he and their mother got along very well.

Their neighbors, Mitzi Klied and her husband, Kurt, and their two daughters, had come over for a visit on the third of December; while most the visit was peaceful, and while they welcomed them into their home warmly, there was a minor problem with the elder Klied daughter. Petra Klied was still acting-out around Hazaar and Guyunis—the reason for her actions wasn't clear; the first thing that came to mind was that she had a crush on one of them, but they really didn't know the real cause for her being so rude or obnoxious towards them. Other than Petra Klied's rudeness towards his two brothers, her and her family's visit had gone well. The Klieds' were the only nieghbors of theirs that spoke at length or came over to visit them; they and their other neighbors had a decent relationship, but it wasn't what one would call the come-over-for-a-visit type of relationship. They and their other neighbors would say hello, one or the other might go over for a few-minute long conversation, then they'd go their ways; that was really it with their other neighbors.

Except for the fierce thunderstorms that struck during the middle part of the first week of December, the weather was decent; the sudden snowstorm that struck during Guyunis's and Hazaar's outing to find mushrooms on the twenty-sixth of November was the only snow that fell in two weeks. The weather, as of the last three days, was hot. Very hot! Not many wanted to leave their residences because of the heat; the last time he checked, it was eighty-one degrees out, which was very abnormal for that time of year. He and his brothers stayed home all day yesterday, and most of the day before yesterday; he and Guyunis had that same intention for today, until one of his friends suggested that they go to the lake, that was in the Kiesgrube am Hardtwald nature reserve, that was in the neighboring town of Durmersheim, for a swim. With the temperature being in the eighties, the suggestion of going for a swim in a lake was too much to turn down; he and Guyunis were the only ones to take his friend's suggestion on. Two towels were retrieved from the closet upstairs then they left the house for Durmershiem.

"Driving rather well, Guy-kins." Lhaklar said.

"Nothing-k to it," Guyunis, who was at the wheel of his and his brothers' BMW, said back. "Surprised. Though-k-t it'd be harder to drive."

"That's what we said when we started driving." Lhaklar said back. He looked out the window for a bit before reaching down to turn the radio off. They, for the last ten minutes, had jammed on the local rock 'n roll station; they both agreed that, while the music that was made now was decent, it was pale in comparison to what was made over a thousand years ago. "Make a left right here, continue down this road until you see a lake, then go a little ways before pulling off onto the road's shoulder. We'll hide the car when we get there."

"This friend of yours already there?" Guyunis asked as he made the left turn onto Industriestraße.

"Probably—he said we'd have to walk a short ways before reaching the lake that he wants us to meet him at." Lhaklar replied.

"He been here before?"

"Yeah, says he's a frequent visitor." Lhaklar replied. "He claims that he made a rope swing in one of the trees a few years back."

"Wha-k-t's this lake look like? He tell you?" Guyunis asked.

"Just your basic lake, nothing fancy about it. There's sand all around it—because of the neighboring sandpits."

"Sandpits?"

"Yeah, There's two sandpits on either side of the lake. According to Astor, the bigger one is defunct now. The smaller one is still being used." Lhaklar replied.

"De-what?" Guyunis said. He chuckled at the word that his older brother had just used to describe the bigger of the two sandpits that were in the area that they were driving towards.

"Defunct; meaning, it's not operational anymore." Lhaklar said back.

"You need a girlie-friend, Bro." Guyunis said. He was still chuckling.

"Had one a few days ago." Lhaklar said. His winked his left eye.

Guyunis drove them over a short, concrete bridge then he started driving down a long and seemingly endless road. There were trees and deep shrubbery on both sides of the road; the hint of something blue was to the far north. When Guyunis reached a section of road that was flanked on both sides by sparse forest, he was able to see a large, bright blue lake; he came close to stopping the car twice after seeing the lake, but he managed to keep his foot on the gas pedal and the vehicle driving forward. The forest became more dense about fifty feet up from the section of road that had sparse forest on both of its sides; he felt a bit depressed over not being able to see the bright blue lake for all of five minutes before cheering up again. The thought of him beating the guy, who had meant to harm one of his younger bruders, made him feel as light as a feather.

He was rather proud of himself; not only had he beat an enemy but also someone who had meant harm to one of his kin. He had proven himself as being a big bruder and he had also shown that he wasn't one to back off from a fight. He didn't really know the reason for that guy's attack on Hazaar and he really didn't know the relationship that the guy had with his family or with him; all he knew was that he didn't like the guy and that he was glad that he was gone. After Thanksgiving, he went back to the area where he and that DuruVile-guy had fought. He searched all throughout the area for the guy; half of him had hoped to find his body while the other half had hoped that he was fine. He wasn't one for killing; he watched it on tv, and on them shows and movies, and he read about it in the paper, but he wasn't one for killing. Killing wasn't him. It wasn't GuyunisVile Lytro Surfeit. He'd injure someone, badly if he had to, for his family, but he wouldn't kill anyone.

There was a crater right where that Duru-guy had fallen; either someone came to retrieve his opponent or his opponent made that crater himself. The crater's trail went all the way to the other side of the shield. It went under the stream, that was in the area, where he and his opponent's fight occurred in. The first thing that popped into his head, after he saw the crater's trail, was that one of the people that were rooting for his opponent had found some way into the shield—why else would such a crater trail exist? There was no such thing as a giant-sized Gopher in Germany; shit, as far as he knew, there was no such thing as a Gopher digging under the soil of Germany. There were a few ground-burrowing animals—the Shrew, the rabbit, the mole, to name only a few—in Germany, but none of them could of made that crater or its trail. That crater, and its trail, had to of either come from his opponent or from one of the people that were on the other side of the shield.

This drive was another thing that he was proud of; his mum had made a point to have him with her whenever she went out on errands. She taught him how to drive and, up to three weeks ago, he had driven with her sitting in the passenger seat. This was the first time that he was driving a vehicle without having her as his passenger; while he was a little nervous over driving without having her at his side he felt confident enough in knowing that he was going to be fine. His mum hadn't had any beefs over his driving to Durmersheim with Lhaklar as his passenger; Lhaklar called their mum to ask for permission to go to Durmersheim before they grabbed the towels from the closet. She gave them her permission then she hung up; she was very busy at her job, so she wasn't able to stick around on the phone for a lengthy chat.

"Someone else is here," Guyunis said as he pulled onto the side of the road that one of them self-driving, beet-red Mercedes's was on.

"That's Astor's Merc," Lhaklar said as he undid his seatbelt. "Be careful now—look but don't touch; his parents bought him that car. It was a sort of graduation present, he's a bit protective of it."

"This guy cool?" Guyunis asked after getting out of the i8 BMW. "Or is he one of them nerd-types?"

"He's a sort of jock." Lhaklar said as he took the two towels out from the i8's trunk. He tossed Guyunis one of the towels then he turned and started towards a path that looked recently traveled. "He likes to exercise and he's a sort of lady lover."

"You and he mus-k-t of hit it off well then." Guyunis said as he followed his brother down the trail.

The shield was a considerable distance away; it was obscured by thick trees, so no one could look through or see them. The trail that they were walking down was very well maintained; the grass and shrubbery was cut back, so the walk wasn't marred by their having to fight any branches or vines or above-ground protruding roots. The only things that they had to fight were the insects—the mosquitoes were ravenous and the flies were pestersome; they were swatting at the insects in no time after starting down the trail. It was a good five minutes before the trail opened up and they saw the lake that Lhaklar's friend had invited them out to. Their clothes clung to their bodies, sweat was pouring from them, and they had several insect bites on them, but, once they saw the lake, they forgot about the bugs, the heat, and how sweaty they were.

The lake that they drove out to was, indeed, smaller than the one that they had driven by earlier and it was a little less beautiful. There were tall trees surrounding the lake; most of them had vines falling from them, while others were just plain bare of leaves. Surprisingly, there were no bushes around the lake. There were four large rocks on the four corners of the lake. A human, who looked of the male gender, was sitting on one of the rocks; he looked to be wearing nothing more than a pair of underwear. There were two more, male humans splashing about in the water; Guyunis took in their antics before looking over at Lhaklar, to see if he knew about the other two humans or if he was okay with having more than one human to be in the company of.

Lhaklar went over to an over-hanging branch after they reached the end of the trail. He slung his towel over the branch then he turned and started shouting at the humans that were in the area.

"Hey! You Intruders! You're intruding on private property! Vacate at once or be subjected to arrest!"

"Fuck you, Green Man!" the human that was on the rock yelled back.

"Who says you can waltz in here, Greenie? You and your Dark Buddy need to leave, no Aliens allowed." one of the humans that was in the lake shouted.

"And don't you be staring at our girls while you leave either!" the other human yelled.

"All girls in the area now belong to my brother and I!" Lhaklar yelled.

The human that was on the rock stood up. He dove into the lake as if nothing was happening then he swam towards the side of the lake that he and his bruder were on. He pulled himself out of the water after he reached their side of the lake then walked over to his bruder, who stood before him with his arms crossed over his chest. The human, who had a lot of muscle on his arms, chest, stomach, and legs, gave his bruder a glaring look before lunging at him. Guyunis flinched forward once then pulled back, after seeing that the move wasn't malicious. Lhaklar and the human chest-butted one another, then they had a mock-fight, before backing off; Guyunis took all of this in from a distance. While he felt slightly annoyed over being ignored he was also glad to be ignored. He was studying the human; learning who he was, and how he acted.

"You must of had a roar of a fight recently, man." the human said after his and Lhaklar's foolishness ended. "That gash on the side of your head's gotten longer; you look good though. Strong, as always."

"Eh, nothing to really worry about. Got a little beat-up last month." Lhaklar said back.

"What happened?"

"Met a certain blood-thirsty, flat-footed man who calls himself Master Vile on the other side of the shield." Lhaklar said.

"Dude! No kiddin'?"

"Nope." Lhaklar smiled.

"Who's this?" the human said after noticing Guyunis, who was standing off to the side. "Don't need to be told that this fucker's strong—what's your press, dude? Looks like you can lift over a hundred pounds, easy."

"My brother," Lhaklar said. He then started in on introductions. "Guyunis, this is Astor Bonnaire; Astor Bonnaire, this is Guyunis."

"Charmed, charmed. Please to meet you, now drop and give me twenty then run a mile." the human, who was introduced as Astor Bonnaire, said jokingly. He stuck his hand out to Guyunis. Guyunis hesitated for a second before grabbing it; he gave the hand a tight squeeze afterwards. "Dude! Don't break the circulation!"

Guyunis smiled evilly then made as to actually squeeze Astor's hand off; Astor howled playfully then gave Guyunis a butting in the stomach before backing off. Guyunis released his hand then reached one of his arms up. He removed his hoodie in one quick more; Astor looked at the scabbed-over, two week-old cuts that were on Guyunis's face for a second before turning around to yell for the others that were in the lake to come over to meet their "new acquaintance".

"Dude looks like he can survive a fight." Astor said after calling everyone over. "What alley was it that he fought in and what bum did he send to the hospital?"

"Eh, he and Hazaar were rough housing two weeks ago. Got too rough, from what they've told us." Lhaklar said as he took his green t-shirt off.

"I'd hate to see what your bruder looks like!" Astor said as he flicked his reddish-blond hair out of his face.

"Except for an open and bleeding elbow, and a worse limp, he came back looking fine; Guyunis looked to of taken the worst of the blows. He had burns all over his chest, shoulders, and backside and the gash that's on his brow was bleeding pretty badly when he returned home." Lhaklar said. "Our mother damn near laid an egg when she saw him."

Astor flicked his green eyes towards Guyunis quickly. He told Guyunis that, while they rough housed, they didn't rough house to maim; Guyunis said that he'd watch himself before glancing over at Lhaklar. He had no sooner looked at his bruder before looking in some other direction; Lhaklar had removed his shirt, his socks, and his shoes and he was now in the process of removing his brown corduroy cotton pants. The two humans that were in the lake swam over to their side of the lake slowly; one of the humans, who introduced himself as Jarvis Adlersflügel, shook Guyunis's hand while the other, who introduced himself as Seth Horowitz, gave Guyunis a playful punch in the shoulder. Guyunis took an instant liking to Seth; they mock-fought one another for a little while before Seth complained about the heat. Seth was jumping back into the lake when two female humans walked out from behind the trees. Guyunis automatically blushed when he saw them.

"Astor, who in the dickens is this handsome chap?" one of the female humans said after she saw Guyunis.

"You leave us out on everything, Astor." the other female human said. "You said it was only going to be you, me, Ivonne, Seth, Jarvis, and Lhaklar swimming in the lake. Nothing was said on Donnie Darko, though."

"Didn't say anything on him because I didn't know he was coming." Astor said. "Lhaklar's the one you two should be bickering at; he's the one that brought "Donnie Darko" here."

"That so. Lhaklar, my pet, who is the Beast that shadowed you here?"

The shorter female was the one that Guyunis looked at the most; she had ash-brown hair and amber-colored eyes that stood out quite nicely in her oval-shaped face. There was a splash of freckles across her small nose; her cheeks were nicely tanned, as was the rest of her. She stood a good, five foot, five inches; her breasts were small, but perky. Her hips were petite, as was the rest of her. Guyunis guessed that she was between seventeen and eighteen years old. This girl seemed to be the less violent of the two; as her companion fought with Astor, she walked over to him. She trailed her hand over his arms as she walked around him.

"Name's Ivonne," she said, introducing herself. "The one fussing with Astor is Ada—she's his sister."

"Introducing me before I've had a chance to chide Lhaklar?" Ada said sharply.

"She's cool; got a razor-sharp mouth but cool." Ivonne said quickly, before turning to look at Ada. She gave Ada a glaring look before speaking to her. "Why chide Lhaklar? He probably had a good reason to bring this chap here."

"I prefer for all who are to be expected at a meeting spot to be spoken of before we reach or begin our activities—you know that." Ada said quickly.

"Who's this chap to you, Lhaklar?" Ivonne asked Lhaklar.

"My brother." Lhaklar replied.

"He don't look like you; how can he be your bruder if he don't look like you?" Ada snapped.

"Ada, down your rudeness. You and Astor look none a-like." Ivonne said quickly.

"Adoptive brother," Lhaklar said as he walked over to Guyunis's side.

"If we're to swim then let's do it," Astor said to Lhaklar and Guyunis. "These two fight worse than cats; just ignore them."

Guyunis was sort of crushed after learning that Ivonne was Jarvis Adlersflügel's girlfriend because, of the two girls that were in the group, he liked her the most. She was sweet, she had the hair and eye-colors that he liked most in a female, and she didn't seem to be of the confrontational sort. Ada Bonnaire was exactly what Ivonne had described her as—sharp-mouthed and extremely confrontational. Guyunis did his best to steer clear of her; her mouth and her knack of wanting to get into or start fights was very contradicting to her physical appearance. He did think that she was pretty but, while she had long legs and long, curly black hair and blue eyes, he was turned off because of her mannerisms.

The wardrobe of choice for everyone seemed to be just plain underwear; no one had a swimsuit on and there were no swimsuits around. Since Guyunis wore no underwear, and had nothing but a towel on his person, he decided to just plain swim with his clothes on. He took his hoodie off, then he placed his house keys and pocketknife in it, before sitting down to take his chains, boots, and socks off; he singled Seth Horowitz out immediately, after entering the water. They had a water fight, then they rushed over to where the rope, that Astor had put up some years ago, was. They used the rope to swing over the lake a few times before going their separate ways; Guyunis singled Lhaklar out next. He and his brother splashed water on one another for a bit before deciding to do a race across the lake.

"No contest; Guyunis might be Muscle Man but Lhaklar's trim and fast in water." Seth Horowitz, a burly nineteen year old, who had curly, brown hair and brown eyes and a hooked nose that were set on a deeply tanned face, said after Lhaklar beat Guyunis in their water race.

"You should try out for the Olympics, L." Astor said as he grabbed a soda from the cooler, that was on the rock, that he was sitting on. He threw Lhaklar the soda then he reached back into the cooler for another. He threw Guyunis the second soda that he took from the cooler after he reached the race's ending point.

"Maybe one day," Lhaklar said as he opened his soda. "Guyunis, you gave me a run there. Thought you'd pass me. Twice."

"Would have hadn't you of accelerated," Guyunis said back. "You must have je-k-ts in your legs or something."

"Lhaklar was meant to beat you; from the start I knew—"

"Guyunis was close behind him. He gave him a run for his money." Ivonne interrupted Ada.

Lhaklar looked at Ada Bonnaire closely; while he thought she was pretty, he felt much the same about her as Guyunis did. She was tall, with good leg length, and she was also petite, with good breast. She looked to be one of them ladies that didn't like utilizing much makeup. While he thought of her as pretty, and was mildly attracted to her, he thought that she was too confrontational for his blood. She didn't look like her brother at all; besides having different colored hair and eyes, she also had little muscle on her body. Astor claimed that his sister had a different father than he, which did explain the reason for why they looked so different from one another; Astor also claimed that, while he was involved in just about any sport imaginable in school, his sister had done nothing more than look for or get in trouble or gawk at the boys. Ada had done drugs twice, she had gotten pregnant once, and she was held back once; she had just one more year left before graduating from school. She was two years younger than Astor, who was nineteen years old.

He met Astor about two months ago, after he saw the set of knives that were on display in the window of the local pawn shop that was in his family's resident town. He just had to go in; the set of claw-shaped knuckle dusters, the skull and crossbones knife, that had a knuckled guard, and the spiked knuckle knife had only wet his appetite. He wanted to see the knives up close and he also wanted to see about buying them. Astor's father, Astor Sr., had shot that desire down quick. He said that, unless he had a valid I.D., that showed that he was a citizen of the country, he wouldn't be buying or leaving the shop with any knives. He went home despondent on that day; after having a talk with his mother on the knives, he went down to the Road Safety Authority building to get an I.D., that showed him as being a citizen of Germany, made up. He went down to the pawn shop a few days later; all of the knives that he was interested in purchasing were purchased on that same day.

While his mother knew of his having the knives his brothers didn't. The set of claw-shaped knuckle dusters were for him; the other knives that he purchased on that day were for Bile. He was going to wrap and then give them, and the set of brass knuckles that he also purchased from the pawn shop on the same day, to Bile on Christmas; his brother was probably going to do a mean back-flip after he unwrapped them. He and Astor became friends after he purchased the knives and the brass knuckles; his friendship with Seth Horowitz and Jarvis Adlersflügel was forged after Astor introduced them to him.

Seth Horowitz was from a noble Jewish family that had lived in Germany for the last four hundred or so years. Astor claimed that Seth's teachers had only passed him so he could play basketball; Seth had even confirmed that story. Seth had an older brother and two younger sisters; his parents were divorced and, according to Astor, Seth's actual father had pretty much dropped out from his children's lives.

Jarvis Adlersflügel was another sport-loving friend of his and, like Seth, he was big and burly. He was nineteen years old, he wore his dirty-blond hair long, and he almost always had a tired look in the eyes. Jarvis lived with his aunt and uncle; his parents had long since passed away. Cancer had claimed them both. He was an only child. Again, Astor claimed that Jarvis's teachers had only passed him so he could play another school-run sport—boxing. Jarvis didn't speak much of his schooling; he typically just made a grunting sound whenever anyone asked him about his school years. Jarvis and Ivonne Angerer had been dating for a little over three months; Lhaklar didn't need to be told that they weren't taking their relationship serious. He and Astor both knew that they slept around on one another.

Course, he kept that piece of information to himself. His mother wouldn't like his hanging around people that did the sleep around thing. She'd demand that he drop the friendship and quick if she ever found out about Jarvis's and Ivonne's sleeping around.

"It's hot out here but I don't care, Guyunis..." Lhaklar sang loudly. Guyunis leaped to his feet immediately. "Retrieve your sword—time for a little brother sparring."

"Bruder sparring? What's that, sounds like fun." Ada said. A wide smile was spread across her face.

"You'll find out soon," Lhaklar said. He said a spell then held his hand out. The grip of his sword formed in his hand a second later. "Ah, my Sword of Glass... How I have missed you."

"You in love with that thing or what?" Ada asked. She was trying to stir a little trouble.

"Sleep with it every night so, yes, I am." Lhaklar replied.

His father, Astor Hermann Bonnaire, had taught him very early on, after he started working at his shop as an apprentice, about how to detect a real sword from a fake one. A real sword wouldn't be stainless, it'd be a high-carbon based steel that'd be able to attract magnets; a real sword would have a sharp, rounded edge and it'd be heavy, but easy to wield. A fake sword would be the opposite all them things. Astor Bonnaire Jr.—who would throttle anyone who dared to call him Jr. anything—was expecting to inspect a very fake sword after asking his friend if he could see his sword. He was very surprised when he found that the sword was real. Real and very unique. A type of sword that he had never seen before in his life.

The sword that he was handed was glass-like. There were all sorts of blue dye floating about in the glass and there were holes all throughout the sword's glass-like blade. There were small holes in the grips and pommel as well. He was deeply stunned after he received permission to "tap" the sword against the rock that they were near. A series of sparks were carried off by the hot breeze after it was "tapped"—only a sword made out of steel would create sparks so, Astor automatically knew that there was something steel in the glass sword's glass-like blade. The sword, while heavy, was easy to handle and it seemed to be very strong and durable. He felt saddened after handing it back to its owner.

"Where'd you get that? Most unique sword I've ever seen in my life and it seems fully real." Astor said after Lhaklar, who was now wearing his shoes, socks, and pants, took his sword back.

"Cause it is, my dear friend." Lhaklar said. "My mother had it made for me—was a kid when I was given it."

"Where'd she get it?" Astor said, changing the wording of his question quickly.

"Satheon—a planet that's a distance from this one." Lhaklar replied quickly.

He was never really allowed to file the reality of his friend's sword in his brain; Astor was just giving his head a shake when his eye landed on the sword that Guyunis was holding. Like Lhaklar's, this sword also looked unique and it also didn't look real; Astor was mildly surprised when Guyunis was reluctant to hand it over after he asked if he could see it.

When Guyunis gave his sword over, Astor made sure to check it over quickly, so he wouldn't make his friend's brother nervous or wary of him.

To the naked, untrained eye, Guyunis's sword looked bland in comparison to Lhaklar's. The blade was long and oddly colored—when he gave the blade a closer look, he saw that it had a mixture of gold and silver dust on it. The gold and silver dust was the cause for the blade's odd coloration; Astor found the blade's coloration both odd and unique. The blade came out of an open-mouthed skull, that had two, real ruby, eyes set in it. There were a set of grooves above the skull; the cross guards curved down gently. The sword's grip was a two-tone, dull silver and gold color; the pommel was a plain, open circle. Like Lhaklar's sword, Guyunis's sword was heavy; Astor was intrigued by the design. He could see why Guyunis was so reluctant to hand it over to him.

"Swords like the ones you two have are more like wall ornaments." Astor said after giving Guyunis his sword back. "You two spar with those? I'd not catch myself—even in death—so much as taking one down to polish, much less to spar with."

"They must of cost your mum a good lot of money." Seth said. He took the details of the two swords in by looking over Astor's shoulder.

"We're not really sure on how much she spent on getting these made." Lhaklar replied. "All we know is that she got some blacksmith on Satheon to make them for us. Guyunis has had his sword a little under a week now, this'll be the first time that he's used it."

"You going to spar in front of us or are you going to spar in private?" Ivonne asked.

"Any clearings around here? We don't mind having an audience watch us—just no loud talking or cheering. We need to concentrate." Lhaklar replied.

They collected their things then followed Astor as he led them to an area that he claimed wasn't only clear of foliage but also flat and hole-free. They went by many trees and bushes while on the walk and they encountered two Red deer that were simply grazing; they were all wishing that they'd of stayed at the lake after they reached the clearing. The sweat was just pouring from their bodies and they felt very tired and thirsty. Astor wished that he'd of brought the cooler that he left behind at the lake; it had half a six-pack of Grafenwalder Pils beer and around eight or so sodas in it. If he'd of brought the cooler they'd of been able to quench their thirst and feel a little better. They sat under a tree for a few minutes after reaching the clearing then, about five minutes after they reached the area, they started to spread out a little. Lhaklar and Guyunis went to the clearing's middle; they flicked and then twirled their swords once before dropping them to their sides.

"Using a long stick to spar with isn't going to happen anymore. You know that, right?" Lhaklar asked as he eyed his opponent.

"Real deal—bring-k it, Green Man!" Guyunis said. He smiled as he held his sword up.


	34. Chapter 34

"Daddy don't go!" his daughter shrieked after exiting his ship. He made it only halfway down the ramp that ran out from the base of his ship's airlock hatchway doors before finding a pair of young, feminine arms wrapping around his middle.

"Uevaa, do I need to say it again? You have nothing to worry about; I'm doing nothing more than a little hunting, I'll be back in a few hours." DuruVile said as he pried his daughter's arms from around his middle.

"Mommy says you should stay inside; not go out, not do anything hard or heavy for a few weeks." Uevaa said as she tightened her grip around him.

"Uevaa—"

"Even granddaddy says for you to stay off your feet!" Uevaa nearly screamed.

"Uevaa—"

"Don't go! Don't go! Stay here, don't—"

"Uevaa!" DuruVile yelled. His daughter gasped, then took a step back after he abruptly turned around.

She was only concerned for him. After coming so close to losing him, they all were. After spending a week in the hospital, going through this test and then that test, and then a bout of unneeded physical therapy, followed by more tests, he had grown plain tired of lazing around. Doing nothing, when there were things to do. Doing nothing, when there were grandchildren and great-grandchildren out there, on a small planet known as Earth, that were missing and that were possibly in danger. His appetite for getting back out in the field was put off after he returned to camp; his wife and his father had insisted on his either staying in bed or sitting in the chair that was in his ship's living room. While he did nothing but lie on his back, or sit on his ass, his wife, or his father, took care of matters in camp—his camp's activities, keeping his few staff working, keeping his kids preoccupied, or disciplining them when needed, etc. Since he had no appointments in the books, he hadn't had to worry about missing a scheduled appointment or about having to get all of his scheduled appointments rescheduled or cancelled.

The kids were good. All had either left him be or had kept their antics to a low, so he wouldn't be bothered. Uevaa had acted as a sort of "nurse" for him—she brought him snacks or drinks or things that'd keep him preoccupied. Gaajah and Selik had done their fussing and fighting outside, well away from him; from what he was told, one of his two, young sons was hurt after going out for a jog around camp. The injury wasn't a bad one, so he didn't have to worry about taking another trip to a hospital.

His wife had kept him "grounded" during the nighttime hours; while sex had always been pleasant with her, their past-week sexual antics had taken a turn for Sugar-Happy Lane. He was perfectly fine with doing love to her all week long; having them long legs of hers either wrapped around his middle tightly or dangling over his shoulders, finding scratch marks on his backside each morning... the rarely allowed activities of his tugging on her hair while he rode her bareback, and of his doing her while she hung upside down, had been fun. The fun had kind of come to a stop last night, after he suggested that they put a stop to sex, so they didn't get a burn-out. He had nothing to do that night and, up to his decision to go out to do a little hunting, he was doing nothing.

He was bored off his ass prior to his decision to go out to do a little hunting; watching the tube, hearing this piece of Universal gossip or watching some uninteresting show... he was aching to do something other than sit around and he had made a decision to do so. His wife had cautioned him, had only told him to be careful, while his daughter was insistent on his staying in the chair that he frequented for most of the week. His sword was sheathed at his side, there was a bow and a case of arrows slung over his shoulder; he was ready to go and yet, here he was, being held back by his little girl, who was scared out of her wits end about losing him. While he was annoyed over her attempts to stop him from going out he understood her reason for wanting him to stay in the ship—it was hot out, a bunch of storms were knocking on the part of the country where their camps were set-up in, and he was just two weeks past being in the hospital for extreme Hypothermia.

"Uevaa," he said, more softly. He placed his hand under his daughter's chin then gently tilted her head up, so that they were looking each other in the eye. "I'll be fine. Your father isn't going anywhere. He'll be back, and he'll be all in one piece, in a few hours, okay?"

"And if your not?" Uevaa asked.

"You can watch as your mother and grandfather tear me into more pieces." DuruVile said, half jokingly.

She was a pretty little thing; a nice blend of both himself and his wife. UevaaVile Saibi Surfeit, who went by plain Uevaa by her family and by her few female friends, stood a nice, five foot, nine inches. Her hair was long and dark auburn colored. The left side of her head and body was silver, inherited from him, while the right side of her head and body was dark yellow; there were no ears on her head. Her eyes were a dazzling shade of glowing blue; the yellow pupils, that were in their centers, contrasted nicely with that color. While she had a good, healthy interest in female cosmetics, she wasn't allowed to wear or experiment with them. She was wearing a lovely, brown dress, that went down to her ankles; the sleeves were long and gold embroidered. There were white slacks coming out from the low-heeled, brown glittered pumps that were on her feet.

While he loved all of his children he had a soft spot in his heart for Uevaa; Uevaa was actually a twin and she was damn lucky to be alive. Her brother had actually passed away while in the womb; if her mother wasn't put on strict bed rest, she'd of been lost too. She was born small and she was violently ill twice after birth; she was very healthy now. She had just celebrated her one thousand, nine hundred, and eighty-seventh birthday five days ago.

"Promise you'll be back, daddy." Uevaa said, pleadingly, and with the hint of tears in her voice and in her eyes.

"Cross my heart." DuruVile said. He kissed Uevaa on the cheek, then messed her hair up a bit, before turning and then going down the rest of his ship's ramp.

While his primary intention in going out to hunt was purely to get up and then out from his ship's roof, he was also hoping to bump into one of his missing family. He was extremely worried about Hazaar; while he was annoyed over Hazaar mouthing off at him, and resisting his rescuing him, he thought that his action of disciplining him was rightly done. He wasn't a man that took bad-mouthing, resisting, or disorderly conduct nicely; he was adamant that his get behave themselves, respect their peers, and do as they were told and Hazaar had just not done that. He hadn't really been allowed to assess Hazaar's injuries; all he knew was that Hazaar's elbow was open and bleeding and that there was something very wrong with his left leg. His grandson's ordeal with that dark-skinned man, and the fight between he and his grandson's attacker, was brutal so, his grandson was probably also suffering from shock too. After finishing his descent from his ship's ramp, he teleported to where the fight between he and his grandson's attacker had taken place. He used his Elemental Ground powers to tunnel under the shield then, after he was inside the shield, he started walking around.

His father's uncle claimed that it was imperative that they find his missing family and quick; after the dark-skinned man's use of the Hyporespiria spell, a spell that Trob claimed was taught at Goboshu's Academy of Meanness, on him, he became even more of a danger to the ones that were missing in his family. If the fucker was apt to using the Hyporespiria spell on him, then, who said he'd not use it on Bile or Lhaklar or Hazaar or Lazeer. Neither of his missing family knew how to quell the spell; it'd kill them in less than an hour... shit, he would of died if Trob didn't know the spell that he spoke the words of. If he didn't speak the first half of the sentence of the spell that his foe had said on the day of their fight he'd of died. His organs were failing; he was knocking on death's door when Trobrencus came into the room that he was in on the twenty-sixth of November.

Tazir was doing his part in trying to find his sons; he was sending platoons of his Goblin army into the shields nearest their camp to look for his sons almost every day. Sometimes, nothing was seen; the platoons would return after seeing or hearing or finding nothing out. There was just one sighting of the boys; one platoon had actually come upon Bile at some venue that was in the city of Pforzheim during the early morning hours of November the twenty-sixth. There were too many at the venue for the platoon to go in to retrieve Bile; they were forced to stand back. They watched Bile. They took their notes, and they also followed him after he left the venue; his great-grandson had some company with him at the time, but none of the members of Tazir's platoon were able to see or identify him. Bile and his unknown companion were lost after they left some eatery; there were no other reports of Bile being seen since and, other than Hazaar being seen during the mid-morning hours of November the twenty-sixth, none of the other boys had been seen and their mother's whereabouts were still not known.

It was now his turn to get in on looking for his missing family. He'd discipline them if he had to but, for the most part, if he found them, he'd just grab and then give them a bone-crunching hug before taking them back to camp. Lhaklar was caught—sort of—once; Tazir had his oldest son's wallet, his cigarette case, his pocketknife, and a set of keys—the contents that were in the wallet were gone through twice, and with a finely toothed comb too. There were two licenses in Lhaklar's wallet—a real one and a fake one—and there was also a driver's license. All but the fake license had shown Lhaklar as being a citizen of Germany, but none of them had shown a lived-in address. No clues were on the licenses; Tazir placed them away—for keeps, until Lhaklar was retrieved. There was also a lot of money in Lhaklar's wallet. €188.85 worth; wherever his grandson came by that much money was beyond him, but his grandson had some revenue to use to keep himself fed and maybe sheltered. Like the licenses, the money was placed in an envelope; except for the false license, and the driver's license, and the cigarettes that were found in the cigarette case, they'd all be given back to their owner after he was found and then taken back to camp. If Lhaklar could be found and then retrieved once, he could be found and then retrieved again and the same went with the others.

"Nothing's been disturbed here since that fight two weeks ago." he said after checking the area where he and the dark-skinned man had fought in two weeks ago out.

The tree, that he was pushed up against, during the last segment of his and his opponent's fight, was still standing. Its bark was black and gray, and the branches were drooping. He quickly put the tree down by incinerating it with a fire blast that reduced it to sawdust. While he had nothing against trees—or any other sort of foliage, for that matter—he had a certain something against the tree that he braced himself against two weeks ago. He, a Surfeit, and a good damn one at that, was pinned against it; he had used it to brace himself against after he was forced away from Hazaar and he had kept it as his brace when he mock-lunged his foe. Surfeit's didn't use obstacles to brace themselves against. They fought in the open and, unless it was another Surfeit that they were facing, they won their battles. Not only had he used the tree as a brace but he had lost his battle with his opponent—that pissed him off!

After checking the area, then destroying the tree that he used as a brace two weeks ago, he pulled a memo pad out from the back pocket of his gray-colored pants, that were tied off at the knees. His father's uncle had done a little hunting just south of his location; near the shield, that was a mile or two off from a place that the humans called Kiesgrube am Hardtwald. Trob said that the pickings were good outside of the shield. He wondered what the pickings were inside the shield so, he quickly pocketed the memo pad after glancing at it then teleported to the area quickly. He started looking for some game to hunt soon after arriving in the area.

"For the record, they _are_ sparring, right? Not fighting-fighting but sparring?" Ada asked her brother after a series of sparks flew from the two swords that her alien friends were using.

"Most in-depth sparring I've ever seen." Seth said after Lhaklar ducked to avoid Guyunis's sword.

"If it's sparring, then it's the most dramatic sparring I've ever seen in my life." Astor said.

They had forgotten how hot it was; after Lhaklar and Guyunis took up their "sparring" activity, they settled in for a silent, but awesome, watching. Lhaklar looked to of been very well-trained in the art of swordry; while Guyunis was slower, and a little stiffer in his movements, he also looked rather good in the sport. While both looked serious in their "sparring", Ada, Astor, and Seth knew thet they weren't trying to hurt one another—why had the corks been applied to the tops of both swords if the two brothers had intentions of harming one another?

Lhaklar swung his sword down low; Guyunis leaped to avoid it, then jabbed his sword in, towards his bruder, who jumped back just in the knick of time to avoid being tapped. Lhaklar backed off a bit then rushed back in. A shower of golden-colored sparks rained out from their swords when they connected. Lhaklar performed a perfect triple-twist afterwards, which generated more sparks from their swords. Guyunis performed a clumsy back-flip; he came close to losing his sword after he landed, then he actually _did_ lose his sword, after he swung it at Lhaklar, who was swinging his own sword at him.

The bruders laughed at the clumsy act; Lhaklar retrieved Guyunis's sword for him then tossed it over. They resumed their sparring afterwards. Guyunis performed a near-perfect somersault; he swung his sword in low then, when the cork that was on the tip of his sword tapped Lhaklar's inner thigh, he shouted in triumph. Lhaklar backed off; he bowed, then congratulated his bruder on a job well-done on defeating him, then smiled evilly. They went back to sparring afterwards. Lhaklar had actually beaten Guyunis four times in their sparring. He tapped Guyunis either on the leg, right were his femoral artery was, twice, then he tapped Guyunis on the chest and then across the stomach once. Guyunis had only defeated Lhaklar once. He was slow, but he was a sport; Astor was impressed with how he was handling his defeats. If it was he in Guyunis's place, he would of had a cow over being defeated. One defeat would of been hard for him to fathom; he wouldn't of been able to take four.

"Where's the popcorn when you need it?" Ivonne asked. She was seated under a nearby tree.

"This is better than them soaps they put on tv." Ada said. Astor high-fived her.

Lhaklar swung his sword down, at the same time that Guyunis did. They took two, synchronized steps after their swords locked up then Guyunis tried to dislodge his sword from his bruder's. His attempt was crappily done, and he got hurt by trying it; his sword went flying in one direction, while a spurt of reddish-green colored blood went in the other. Lhaklar grabbed his bruder's hand quickly afterwards. He checked Guyunis's hand then shook his head. He sheathed his sword, then retrieved Guyunis's. Guyunis was taking his sword when a patch of tall grass, that was on the other side of the clearing, parted.

A terrified-looking Red deer raced out. It went right for the two brothers. Ivonne's hands flew to her face when the deer ran into the brothers, then she screamed after two arrows shot out from the grass that the deer had come from. The first arrow pierced the deer's chest, while the second went through the deer's left foreleg. The deer fell to the ground after the arrows entered it. The deer's sides heaved. It lifted its head twice before going still. Astor and Jarvis went forward, towards the deer; they started to examine the animal after reaching it. Astor was quick to notice that the animal was run for a while. It was lathered and hot. Jarvis took note of the two wounds that were on the animal's stomach before going back to Ivonne, Seth, and Ada. Astor shook his head then looked in Lhaklar's and Guyunis's direction. The two looked to be in a daze; they were slowly getting to their feet.

"You two oh..."

It was only natural that he looked at the girls first; scantily clad, wearing only lingerie, and both young and heavy in the chest area. He had to shake his head to rid his view of them; it was during that shake of the head that he noticed the others that were in the group.

By count, there were five humans in the group. The two, young-looking males, that were near the two girls, were wearing just pants. There were no shoes or socks or even shirts on their persons. The reddish-blond haired male, that was farthest from the girls, was a nice specimen. Nicely muscled for his age; he had a good girth, and decent head and leg-shape, and it looked like his shoulders were well proportioned. The reddish-blond haired male was close to his kill; the deer that he was chasing was a good one. Decently sized. It would keep him and his family fed well for a few days. He automatically forgot about his kill when his eye landed on the other two that were in the group. The muscles that were in his legs stiffened then went tight when he saw them. The snarl that he wanted to emit became stuck in his throat, but he managed to make himself look as menacing as could be by simply stomping towards the two figures that were in the center of the clearing.

If it was just the dark-skinned man in the clearing with the humans he'd of walked away. He'd of left his kill with him; there were other deer around and it wasn't like he was low on arrows or couldn't find and then bring down another deer or some other game animal. The dark-skinned man wasn't the only one with the group of humans, though. Lhaklar was on the ground; his chest had a few bloody streaks on it, and one of his hands looked to be bleeding and, looky here, the hand that wasn't bleeding was wrapped around the dark-skinned man's wrist and what was held in the hand that was attached to that wrist? Why, a sharp bladed sword... which just so happened to be a short, five inches from his grandson's body.

The dark-skinned man, the being that he fought two weeks ago, turned towards him slowly. His eyes, which looked of the slightly slanted, glowing yellow sort, went wide for just a second before going back to their normal size. The man stood to his full height then took a step back; Lhaklar's oval-shaped, pistachio-colored eyes went wide instantly when he saw him. His grandson got to his feet quickly, then took a few, shaky steps back.

"You must have a death wish, Pal." he growled as he came closer to the center of the clearing that Lhaklar and Guyunis were in.

It suddenly grew darker. A bolt of lightning came down behind him. A crack of thunder was heard as he advanced forward.

"Who the fuck is that?" the reddish-blond haired human exclaimed as he backed away from the clearing's center.

"It's Master Vile!" one of the scantily clad female humans exclaimed. "Isn't it? Isn't that Master Vile?"

"Whoever it is, he don't look none-too-happy or friendly." the human who had long, dirty-blond hair said.

"Let's get out of here!" the other scantily clad female human shrieked.

Mass hysteria happened right when it started to rain. The humans, Lhaklar, and the dark-skinned man bumped into one another in their plight to get out of the area. He wasted not a second in charging into the mess; while he didn't mean to do it, he made four deep cuts appear on his grandson's arm after he swiped his hand at him. Lhaklar's arm started spewing blood at once; his grandson grabbed his arm then turned. He ran off, after the humans, for just a second before stopping and then turning back towards him. The dark-skinned man had obviously seen him cut Lhaklar's arm and he had obviously singled him out for another battle, which he was very ready to participate in. He didn't know the reason for why the man had decided to single him out for another battle and he really didn't care of knowing why either. As far as he was concerned, it was time to set things right in his Universe. It was time to settle old scores and beat his former adversary but, before he did so, he had a little something else that was even more important to do first.

"Tazir, there's a situation going on in the Kiesgrube am Hardtwald nature preserve, get your ass here asap."

That was all he was able to get out. He was allowed to snag his communicator from his belt, and he was allowed to relay a message to Tazir, but he wasn't allowed to see if his message got through or to even tell his son that Lhaklar was in his proximity. The dark-skinned man shot a wave of crystallized energy at him before rushing at him; after being driven off a few feet, he tossed his bow and case of arrows from his back, then unsheathed his sword. He charged at the man; the roar that came out of him was just as loud and menacing as could be.

The man mustn't of noticed his wielding a sword, because he neither deterred his course or rose the sword that he was holding. His sword sliced a good line down the man's arm after he reached him. The man's reddish-green blood erupted from the wound like lava from a volcano almost at once.

"Take two, Dark Man." DuruVile said after turning around to face his foe. He snickered when his adversary took four steps back from him. "What's wrong, Punk? 'Fraid of a little cut, or of bleeding a little? Should of known beh—"

He was attacked from behind! He wasted no time in throwing the firm body, that slammed into his backside, from him or in turning around to see who it was that ran into him. The storm was growing stronger by the second, but he didn't notice it; shock gripped him after he saw who his attacker was. Lhaklar, his grandson, was getting to his feet slowly. He didn't look none too happy in the eyes; the idea of his grandson running to him, possibly hoping that he'd protect him from the dark-skinned man, ran itself through his head quickly. It was a touching idea, a touching thought, but his grandson's action was very badly timed. He could well of killed him. He could of swung his sword before taking in who it was that attacked him from behind.

"Lhaklar..." he said. He took a step towards his grandson; up to his adversary taking advantage of his attention being absorbed in something else, he forgot all about him.

A stabbing pain in the back of his right knee caused him to turn around. He stood, guarding Lhaklar; he stood, facing his foe, who had dared to attack him from behind.

Lhaklar was a different being. Lhaklar was his grandson; the son of his thirdborn son, Tazir. Attacking him was out of the question. He could discipline him, but he couldn't and he wouldn't attack or maim him. The fool that was in front of him was a totally different being; unrelated, no known connection existed between them. The fool was just a thorn in his side. A pebble that needed to be kicked. He needed to be taken out and soon, before he hurt any of his kin and, by the Gods, was he ever going to open up a good textbook of pain on him. Nobody attacked him or hurt him or his kin and got away with it!

In a way, he realized, before the real-deal fighting between them started, this second fight with this same man was similar to his two fights with his former adversary—Kankuranger of Wren8.

He lost the first fight against Kankuranger; he came out on top, only to be defeated by the coward taking out and then using a laser pistol on him. He was also on top in his first fight with his current-day foe; his current-day foe had used a learned spell on him to tip the scales in his favor. He spent a lot of time, a lot of thousands of years, in a top-secret facility, that helped him get back to form after his first fight with his first foe; he spent a week in a top-rated hospital after his first fight with his current-day foe.

There were a few, small differences between the two fights; Kankuranger attacked him from behind in their first fight while, in their second fight, he actually had to call the man out so he could face and then beat him in battle. He simply happened on the dark-skinned man bullying his two grandsons; Lhaklar and Hazaar were two of the small differences in these two, modern-day fights—family wasn't involved in either of his fights with Kankuranger. His first adversary had nothing to do with his family, and he hadn't had to worry himself over his kin's safety during their two battles. The storm that was waging was also a difference; it was overcast on his first fight against Kankuranger, while it was a nice, humid, yet sunny day when they had their second fight. It was snowing during his and his current-day foe's first fight and it was storming during their second fight.

The trees, that were a considerable distance away from the clearing, suddenly went up in flames. Their charred remains were kicked down at the same time that he was rushing at his opponent. His father, when he saw who he was engaged in battle with, yelled his name; he ignored him as best as he could. Kuruk and Tazir, his wife, and Ashaklar and Cheshire Ubalki looked on in silence for few seconds before starting to yell at Lhaklar—who was either trying to get in on the fight or was trying to stay near him. The first five minutes of his second battle with his adversary were clumsy; with his having to continuously throw Lhaklar out from the fight, he couldn't really devote his time to the fight or to his opponent, who seemed to fighting half-heartily.

"Will you get out of here, Boy!" he shouted after Lhaklar jumped onto his back.

It was mainly Lhaklar that kept him from throwing his full self into the fight. He hadn't expected for his former foe to show up and, while he had hoped that the guy had recovered from his using the Hyporespiria spell on him, he hadn't expected for him to be alive. He had used the Hyporespiria spell on the guy for crying out loud! Unless the guy knew how to counter-act the spell, he should of died; Hypothermia or heart failure would of claimed him in less than thirty minutes. The last time he fought this guy, he was protecting Hazaar, his younger bruder. Lhaklar was older than he. He was his older bruder so, that should mean that he should be the one fighting and not he... or so he thought.

His right arm was killing him! The man's sword, which had a long, dark red blade, that came out of a sharply polished, silver handle, had come close to splitting his arm down the middle. The wound that the sword had created was deep and it was bleeding quite profusely and he couldn't do a thing about it. He had managed to dish out a similar wound to the man. The back of the man's right knee was bleeding just as badly as his arm was, but the man didn't seem at all fazed by the fact that he was cut or bleeding. He was mad. Point blank. He was mad and, from what he could tell, he was taking it all out on Lhaklar, who he was advancing towards.

Guyunis slipped twice in the sticky, wet mud as he rushed forward then, after sliding to a jaw-breaking stop, he swung his sword. He backed off when his opponent turned to face him; the six-inch long gash, that he just inflicted on the man's back, was deep. It started gushing blood at once. The man turned on a dime after the wound was inflicted to his back; he came at him like a raging locomotive.

The man swung his sword twice; while he managed to duck the first swing, he wasn't able to dodge the second. He yelled after the sword's blade penetrated the skin of his upper, left arm; he unleashed his anger right then and there, after the blade cut into him. While he wasn't as adequately trained as Lhaklar was in the art of wielding a sword he did his best to mimic his opponents moves and he did his best to keep his balance in the mud that was getting wetter by the second.

He slid to the side, using that same cat-like grace that he used when he faced them three guys in October, to avoid the man's sword's blade, then he jabbed his sword towards the man's stomach area; he wasn't looking to mortally wound the man, but he was hoping that a stomach wound would cause his opponent to back out from the fight. That didn't happen. The man jumped back in the nick of time, then came at him. His sword's blade was nearly unable to be seen, the man was twirling and swinging it so much. It was no surprise to him that another, deep cut was inflicted to his right arm. While the cut to his wrist was deep, it wasn't a to-the-bone cut; he put no worry in on the wound. After that cut was inflicted to his body, another sword-based wound was given; the chains, that he wore around his chest and shoulders, broke cleanly, he hissed when the man's dark red bladed sword sliced through the flesh of his chest. Blood trickled from the newly given wound slowly, then it gushed out at an alarmingly fast speed that gave him a scare.

A series of yellow and purple-colored lightning bolts lit the dark sky up as the man swung his sword twice more; he caught the blade of the sword against his own both times, then backed off a distance, before coming in again. He ducked and then rolled towards the man at the last second. The man made a grunting sound as he moved out of the way; that grunting sound was swiftly replaced by a shout of pain. He had inflicted his third, sword-based wound on his foe; the tip of his blade had made a cut appear on the man's upper, inner, left thigh. After inflicting that wound, he tried for another. He jabbed his sword forward, then watched in dumb disbelief as his sword flew out from his hand.

The torrential rain that was falling didn't deter his sword as it flew from his hand. Lightning caught his sword's blade beautifully as it flew through the air. When his sword landed, a plume of mud rose. A tinge of fear rose in him after his foe discarded his weapon. There was no way in hell that he could retrieve his sword—his opponent was angry and fast; he knew by instinct that the man would do everything he could to prevent him from retrieving his weapon.

"Say goodbye Punk! This battle's mine for the t—" DuruVile said as he rushed in to finish the fight.

Guyunis drove the man back by shooting red-colored, crystallized, energy beams at him. He then tried to run the man off by sending a wave of the same type of attack at him; the man surprised him by not only slicing his attack in half with his sword but by also sending a wall of golden-colored flames at him. The man did this action by swinging his sword at him; as much as it shocked him, the wall of flames seemed to of come from the sword's blade.

Guyunis was so transfixed by the move that he didn't move out of the way. The fire wall struck him head-on; he was sent flying out of the clearing. Mud rose all around him after he landed. He got up quickly, then made a fist. He punched the ground as hard as he could; a wall of mud and rocks rolled out from his punch at once. His opponent was caught completely off guard by his attack. The man, after being struck by his attack, flew back several feet before crashing into a set of thorny bushes that were to the north of the clearing.

Guyunis sent four, purple-colored fireballs at the man, when he returned to the clearing, then, when the man deflected his attacks with his sword, he stomped his foot down. Hard!

"Power thief!" DuruVile shrieked after jumping clear from the rolling mud that was coming for him. "You are not Surfeit! You are not allowed to use such powers!"

"Fuck you," Guyunis said in return.

The wind was howling when he grabbed his sword up from its resting place; after he reclaimed his sword, he swung it, trying to imitate his opponent's move in making his power abilities work through some object that he was holding. His attempt was terrible. Not only did no fire come out from the end of his sword but his sword was also snatched right out of his hand. His opponent slammed into him. He pummeled him with his fists, then he backed off, only to come at him again. Guyunis caught one of the fists that were meant for his face; he twisted the hand then gave the man, who had turned to the side, a firm shove. An attack that consisted of both his Energy powers and his Elemental Ground powers followed afterwards; the man was driven off a few feet by that attack, then he went flying, after he was hit by a ground wave.

"Guyunis, come on man!" Lhaklar said. Guyunis felt his brother's hand wrap around his wrist, then he felt himself being pulled back. "Mom'll have a hissy fit if she—"

"I will _not_ let you _win_ this second fight between _us_!" DuruVile shouted as he ran back into the clearing, which was now a sloppy mess, thanks to the rain.

"Second fight? Did he just say—"

DuruVile leaped into the air, then started twirling. Three trails of water and mud rose up from the ground; they had just settled over his body when he shot his arms out, towards his foe. One of the water and mud trails struck Lhaklar, who was sent reeling back, with his hand firmly placed against his right cheek, while the other two trails struck Guyunis on the chest. Guyunis yelled in pain; the wound that he received earlier stung him mercilessly and the impact from his opponent's attack only made it hurt more. After the water and mud trails hit him he ran forward. He leaped into the air, then did a near-perfect imitation of the move that his yet-unknown-to-him half-brother had just done. It was clumsy, but it had the desired effect. DuruVile dropped to his knees after two of Guyunis's water and mud trails hit him in the face; blood seeped from his mouth and from the open cut that was on his chin.

He shook his head then got to his feet; a dazzling display of lightning was going on above in the sky, he decided to use it to his advantage. When he shot his arm up, his sword was firmly gasped in his hand; when a bolt of lightning struck the tip of his sword, he quickly worked it, so that it ran down the blade and then down his arm. Guyunis watched in disbelief as the lightning was seemingly absorbed by his opponent. He watched as it went down his opponent's arm, then traveled to his stomach, before going back to the arm that it traversed previously; when his opponent shot his sword towards him, he neither got out of the way nor took notice of the danger that he was in. The lightning bolt raced towards him quickly; when it struck him, it caused him to be propelled almost out of the clearing.

While Guyunis didn't try to imitate the move that had just been done by his opponent he'd remember it forever; after getting to his feet, he raced forward. DuruVile, who wasn't ready for him, lost his sword and his footing. DuruVile got to his feet quickly, after being thrown to the ground, only to find himself being knocked down again. While his next attempt in getting up was more successful, he was still not ready for Guyunis. Guyunis ran into him with such force that he was sent flying into the trunk of a nearby tree; he shook his head to rid it of the fuzziness that he felt then stood up.

A rain of flame-covered fists caught DuruVile completely by surprise a second later. Each punch that Guyunis threw at him drew sparks from his body; DuruVile was quick to notice that it felt more like dynamite was being detonated on his body. It didn't feel like he was being punched at all and, to top it off, each punch came with its own dose of fiery-given pain that he had never felt before in his life.

"Duru!" DuruVile heard his father yell.

" _Duuuuuurrrrruuuuuu!_ " Cyla, his wife, who he loved so much, screamed at the top of her lungs. "Someone _help_ him! He's _being_ killed! That man's _killing_ him!"

Technically, he wasn't being killed. Even from a distance, and despite the heavy downpour, and the brisk winds, they could see everything that was happening between he and his foe. His foe had him, yet again, pinned against a tree. He'd return his foe's punches only to feel more pain from more punches being landed on his body. His face, his chest, and his ribs were on fire. They hurt, but he wasn't out of the fight and he wasn't being killed either. Oh, he might be spittin' up blood after this one, but he was far from being killed.

DuruVile received a shock after lunging forward and then finding himself shoved back against the tree that he was being pinned against; he had put a lot of effort into his lunge and yet, he hadn't been able to knock his opponent off-balance or push him away. He lunged twice more before deciding to flip the ground that was under his feet. He went under, and then around, his opponent, then, when he appeared above ground, he turned and then charged. He grabbed the back of the blue hoodie that his opponent was wearing then he slammed his opponent face-first into the tree that he was pinned against. He held his opponent's face against the tree, hoping to high Heavens that the fucker was enjoying the bark and splinters that were piercing his flesh, before pulling him back. He was getting ready to kick his opponent in the gut when the hoodie that he was holding ripped; his opponent whirled on him fast, then jabbed his hand out. DuruVile felt an instant eruption of pain in his groin. His opponent had grabbed and was now giving his balls a fierce squeezing that'd cripple him from the fight.

"Like t-k-hat, eh? You like that, Fucker?" Guyunis said menacingly as he shoved DuruVile back.

DuruVile was reduced to using only one of his hands after his balls were squeezed. He threw four, green-colored fireballs, and then five, black and purple-colored energy balls before finding himself flying back. His back screamed in agony after he struck the trunk of a nearby tree; breathing hard, not wanting to give in or back out from the fight, and not wanting his grandson, who was standing nearby, to be claimed by his adversary, he got to his feet. He stumbled forward about ten steps then felt the same sensation of being thrown back; this time, when he hit the trunk of the tree, he shrieked in pain then found himself unable to move. As much as he tried to get up, to get to his feet, he found himself unable to. And, as if to make matters worse, the pain that he was feeling was enough to make him want to cry. The pain that he was feeling shot all throughout his body—down his arms and legs, down his torso... he even felt it in his fingers and toes, it was that damn bad! An attempt to lift his head was unsuccessful. An attempt to turn his head to the side didn't follow through. He started feeling the effects of terror after finding that he couldn't move his hands, much less his fingers; his situation became clear after he failed to move his feet and wiggle his toes. Either that last throw had caused a disc or two in his back to become dislodged or there was something even more serious going on in his back.

"Jeez, man!" DuruVile turned his eyes as far up as he could. Lhaklar was five feet to his left; the man that he just fought was standing right beside him. Whatever clothing the two were wearing was drenched; the dark-skinned man's torn pants were also muddy. "What... I've never... Dude! I can't fuckin' speak on what you just did to him!"

"He won't be walking-k for a while." the dark-skinned man said.

"For a while? He might never walk again! Dude... did you see how his head did a near one-eighty?" Lhaklar exclaimed.

"He asked for it." the dark-skinned man said, matter-of-factly.

"Dude!" Lhaklar turned. He disappeared into the foliage that was around the clearing. The dark-skinned man remained in the area for a second or two longer before turning and then following him.


	35. Chapter 35

"Last Minute Sale! Last Minute Sale! Watches for all ages and genders... Jewelry for the ladies... Last Minute S..."

"All the latest fashions available at bargain prices—scarfs, hats, gloves... you need 'em? We have 'em. All the latest fash..."

"Flowers, candies, and other nifty items for the one you care for most or for plain stocking stuffers—get them here. We have more variety than your usual market d—"

"Rush-hour traffic; not surprised that it's going on here." Lhaklar said as he elbowed by a crowd of people that were clustered around a stand that was selling magazines, 4101 calenders, and post cards. "Stick close Hazaar—mom'll ring my neck if I lose you in a place like this."

Rush-hour traffic? Did he just say that what they were traveling through was rush-hour traffic? It seemed more like the last-minute-holiday-shopping-push-and-shove traffic to him. Humans of all ages and genders were pushing and shoving one another. Angry faces were being made. He couldn't count how many verbal threats he had heard. Three fights had broke out over some cheap-made item that one could either get from a thrift store or make at home; he and his brother had done their best to steer clear of the fights and, admittingly, they were also trying their best to guard their pockets.

Adele-Schreiber-Krieger-Straße, the street that he and his brother had teleported to, was flanked on both sides by stands and kiosks. Everyone was trying to make a quick buck and it looked like the civilians that were walking the street were very interested in what was available. The food kiosks were less crowded than the other stands and kiosks that were up; with it being near lunch-hour, he came close to asking if they could stop at one of them. His stomach, much like his brother's, was gurgling. Neither of them had eaten lunch yet; they had decided to shoot over to Berlin to see Mr. Leinart, like their mother had told them to do hours earlier, before eating lunch.

"Beads, pearls, rhinestone sets—get one of each color for either the woman you love or for a female member of your family. Discount price on multiple purchases." a fat, ugly-faced man, who was wearing four sets of beaded, "pearl" and rhinestone necklaces, shouted into the crowd.

"Commentary mugs for the low-low price of one euro." a wheelchair bound, elderly woman cawed in a low, raspy voice.

"Watch it!" Lhaklar hissed at a man, who just shoved his elbow into his abdomen. The man neither apologized or said anything back; he merely looked at Lhaklar before shrugging his shoulders.

According to the directions that their mother wrote down for them earlier, they were suppose to teleport to Alt-Moabit street and then walk down to another street that was called the Willy-Brandt-Straße. Their destination would of been on the right, had they of gone by their mother's written directions, that was. They had gotten their directions mixed up so, instead of teleporting to Alt-Moabit street, they teleported to the Adele-Schreiber-Krieger-Straße street instead—which was on the right side of the Spree river, which they needed to cross to get to the German Chancellery, where Stefan Leinart worked at. There were two bridges that ran across the Spree river; they were trying to find the smaller one and, so far, no one was helping them in finding it. It looked like they were going to have to use the other bridge, which wasn't only larger but extremely traffic congested, to get across the river to where the Chancellery was.

"Since you two are the slow-pokes this morning, think you can do me a favor?" their mother asked about ten minutes after breakfast was eaten. He and Lhaklar were the only ones still in the house at the time; they nodded their heads, then listened to her carefully. "Mr. Leinart's been a very busy man lately—he hasn't been able to come over much this month. I want you two to go see him and I also want you to give him something."

"What is it, momma?" he asked.

"What do y'think it is ya doofus?" Lhaklar asked him rudely.

"Lhaklar..." his mother gave his brother a chiding look.

"Sorry—I'm cranky. Didn't sleep well last night." Lhaklar said back.

"You and me both, son." their mother said. She didn't say a thing more for a little while before, finally, bending down and then reaching under the chair that she usually frequented when they ate their meals at the dining room table. A package, wrapped in Christmas paper, and an envelope, that had the words Merry Christmas on it, were placed on the table's surface a second later. "I want one of you to take to box, the other is to take the envelope. Take both items to Mr. Leinart. Give them to him and only him—no one else now. Don't keep him but so long now; you can have a short talk with him, but not a super long one. This is his holiday too—he'll be wanting the workday to fly fast so he can spend his vacation time with his family."

It was a workday for their mother and she was slated to go into work—it was the last day for her before her "big", five-day vacation started. Before going off to work, she wrote a set of directions down on a piece of paper on how to get to the Chancellery. He took the envelope, while Lhaklar took the wrapped package; they promised their mother that they'd take Mr. Leinart the two items before noon. Time had gotten away from them, so they hadn't upheld that promise. Bile and Lazeer went out to do a little, last-minute Christmas shopping. Guyunis was outside, fixing the Christmas decorations that fell the night before; he was planning on going out to browse a few stores that day, so he had probably also done some late-Christmas shopping too. He and Lhaklar had pretty much finished their Christmas shopping; they were broke, but they were happy with what they purchased for their family that Christmas.

It seemed strange that there was no snow on the ground in his current location because, back home, in Elchesheim-Illingen, and in Elchesheim-Illingen's two neighboring towns—Au am Rhein and Steinmauern—there was nearly four feet of the stuff on the ground. The weatherpeople were wrong—yet again—in predicting and forecasting the weather; they said that it'd rain right up through Christmas. Instead of rain, it had snowed. It snowed for most of yesterday, and for a little under half of the day before yesterday. The bottoms of the clouds had looked about ready to fall in his family's current town so, he and his family—along with the rest of the people in their resident town—were expecting more snow to fall.

What was even stranger was the fact that, in his current location, it was warm. Here he was, wearing all the necessary items to keep one warm in cold weather, and it was nearly sixty-two degrees out—when he left Elchesheim-Illingen, it was thirty degrees out. A chilly breeze was blowing and the sky had looked heavy and dark. The sky here, in Berlin, was an electric blue—pretty, but strange, in comparison to what it looked like in his lived-in town—and there was no breeze blowing.

"Hey!" he jumped back after a short, fat woman, who had shoulder-length, black hair and glassy-green eyes, pushed him. The woman didn't apologize for her rudeness; she crossed the street then disappeared.

"Hazaar!" Hazaar looked up. He was quick to notice that he and his brother had become separated.

As he hurried along, closing the distance between he and his brother, he remembered all of what he and his brothers did last week. They were slow in getting their Christmas decorations up this year; with the erratic weather, and their busy, out-of-the-house schedules, they had just not had a chance to get their house ready for the upcoming holiday.

That had changed early last week; their mother had put her foot down. She went out to do a little shopping for Christmas decorations then she pulled all of their old decorations out from their underground storage. She put them to work afterwards. They worked as a unit in putting the new, five and a half foot tall, green artificial pine tree up; he and Lazeer had put the colored Christmas lights—both the new and their old sets—on the tree while Bile, Lhaklar, and Guyunis had put the new Icicle Lights on the house's gutters. Lhaklar was the one to place their old, outside-based, colored Christmas lights around the living room windows; Bile and Guyunis were the ones responsible for putting the outside garland, that had the bells on each strand, around the porch posts next.

Guyunis was the one to put the inflatable snowman, the four reindeer, and the sleigh that went with the four reindeer in the front yard—he insisted on doing it himself; Bile and Lhaklar had simply stood by, watching him work up a sweat... something of which their mother wasn't very happy with. Their old, Christmas wreath was placed on the front door by Lhaklar after the snowman, reindeer, and sleigh were rigged up in the yard; they went in afterwards.

Except for Guyunis, who was told to take a fifteen minute break, they worked together on getting the house's interior ready for the upcoming holiday. The tree, which was in the corner that was to the left of the gas-powered fireplace, was halfway done when Bile, Lhaklar, and Guyunis came in; the only things that were on the tree at the time were the new colored Christmas lights, their old, white dove lights, and the new and old garland. Bile and Lhaklar had changed that quick; they worked together in putting the balls and other ornaments on the tree while he and Lazeer worked on the rest of the living room. He was the one responsible for putting the green and gold garland around the fireplace mantle; Lazeer hung a strand of colored lights around the window that was between the living room and dining room. Lazeer hung a strand of holly garland over the archway that gave way into the living room while he placed their mother's Jingle Bell-Singing Angel on the table that the phone was on.

The tree, after all of that was squared away, was lacking one thing; they mutually decided that, since this was Guyunis's first official Christmas with them, it'd be he who'd put their age-old Christmas star on the tree's top. He did so with dignity before descending the short ladder that was placed by the tree's front. He—all of them actually—was all smiles afterwards. All matter of wrapped gifts—each labeled for the receiver—were placed under the tree afterwards.

With each year, when the holidays came around, they tried their best to get their residence spiffed up in one day. Even though they were late in getting started, they hoped that the tradition would continue. It had. They were a family of six now. They could do a lot and, most of the time, they were able to do it without fighting one another. A lot of heads had turned in the direction of their house last week; a few of their adult neighbors, who were parents, were probably jealous about how he and his brothers had handled themselves.

"Wish I could get my daughters to help more in getting the house looking good for the holidays," Mrs. Klied said the day after their Christmas decorations were put up. "Most of the time, it's either me or my husband that get the house fixed up for the holidays; the girls will do some things, but it's mostly us that get the tree and then the outside decorations up."

"Tell your mutter that my wife and I are looking to hire her—does she keep at you boys with a pitchfork or do you just decide to help out with the house?" Mr. Abbing, who lived across the street, had shouted at Bile, who was shoveling the snow from the sidewalk yesterday.

"You bloody kids make this neighborhood look bad!" Mr. Carver said two hours after their Christmas decorations were put up.

A vehicle, one of the self-driving types, came within a fraction of an inch of squashing his foot; the driver simply honked the horn then sped off. He glared at the vehicle as it sped away, then he limped over to Lhaklar, who was waiting semi-patiently for him to join him. While his limp wasn't any worse, it wasn't any better either. He hoped that it wasn't permanent. His mother had actually offered to take him to a doctor to get his hip x-rayed—to see if there was anything worse than just "bone bruising" or "cracking of the hip bone". He had politely turned her offer down. His leg was just taking its sweet time in healing; he really wasn't helping the healing process any by walking or using it. He was toughing it out; doing it the Hazaar-Way, which was the only way he knew in handling his injuries.

"Don't know who's worse—the humans that're walking about or the fuckin' motorists." he said after he and his brother reached the corner of Adele-Schreiber-Krieger-Straße. There was a pole, that had a pedestrian light on it, across the street from them; it currently said for them and the humans that were also waiting to cross to street to not cross the street.

"Both—it's that time of year where niceties become non-existent." Lhaklar replied.

"Still got it on you?" Hazaar asked. The "it" pertained to the wrapped package that was on his brother's person.

"In my coat," Lhaklar replied. "Protecting yours well?"

"Inside my shirt," Hazaar returned.

"Inside a magazine that's in your shirt—you mean, right?"

"Starting to get to know me a little too well, Brother." Hazaar said.

They bumped fists at the same time that the pedestrian light changed; the crowd jostled them a bit, made them become separated for a few short minutes. They did a quick regrouping after reaching the other side of the street then continued on. The street that they were now on was called Schiffbauerdamm.

"A lot of the buildings here look old!" Hazaar said as they walked by a long restaurant, that looked to of been made out of grunge-colored bricks and that had a natural clay tile roof.

"A lot of the buildings were destroyed in the four World Wars that occured on this planet," Lhaklar said. He stopped then pointed at the building that Hazaar had taken note of. "That's the Bistro im Haus der Bundespressekonferenz—it use to be a small eatery. It's been around for a long time."

"Verschieben!" a man said as he brushed by them.

"Jetzt sehen! Asshole," Lhaklar shook his head, then grabbed his brother by the arm. "Let's get out of here before I lose my cool."

" _You_ lose _your_ cool? You don't have a "cool" bone in your body, Man. You can't "lose your cool" unless you have "cool" in your bones." Hazaar said back.

"Tough shit," Lhaklar mumbled.

His brother was using the excuse of his not getting enough sleep last night all day; he didn't really think that it was his brother's lack of sleep that was making him such a grouch—there was something else bothering Lhaklar and he, in a way, wanted and didn't want to know what it was.

Lhaklar was acting strange for all of thirteen days now, and none of them really knew the reason for why. He came home from his outing with his friends with some still-bleeding cuts to his right cheek and right arm; he wasn't all that concerned over the two injuries, so they didn't questioned him on what he did to get them. Their mother, who had only just got home from work, had examined the two wounds before telling him to go upstairs to both tend them and change out of the sopping wet clothes that he was wearing; while she was concerned about his brother's injuries, she let him be. Up to her seeing Guyunis trying to steal himself up the stairs, she was all nice and cool with him.

One may be able to steal away or keep something from them but none of them were really able to steal away or keep something from their mother; Guyunis had stopped cold in his tracks after their mother saw and then called his name. He was sopping wet from head to foot and his pants were also very muddy, so they automatically knew that something happened to him. Guyunis stayed on the stairs for nearly two minutes before turning around; all hell broke lose afterwards. Just one look was enough to send their mother into a frenzy.

His adoptive brother had looked to of been hit by a freight train! There were a few scrapes and cuts on his face; there was a near, six-inch long cut to his chest; and both of his arms were cut and bleeding. Their mother rushed forward after seeing the extent of his injuries; during the process of her running her hands over his body, she asked Lhaklar what happened.

"A greasy, no-count bum came out of nowhere about fifteen minutes after we reached the lake that my friend invited us to. We were doing nothing but enjoying the water—we were having a good time splashing water all over the place. I just got through racing Guyunis across the lake when the bum showed up. He told us to scram then he started insulting everyone—myself included." Lhaklar said. "Guyunis didn't like the human insulting him—he said something pertaining to how the lake could be shared and that the man didn't own the lake, then he insulted the man, then they had a fight. I tried to get between them. That's how I got these—" his brother pointed to his cut, right cheek and then to his still-bleeding right arm.

"A human did all of this to your brother?" their mother said. "Lhaklar, don't try to kid me now. Guyunis makes three humans—he's a big boy; there's no human that could do this much damage to him."

"The human had a knife on him—he used it more than once and he also managed to get in a kick that made Guyunis not able to fight him." Lhaklar said.

"Guyunis... no! No—Guyunis, you stay out of this one." their mother, who was a frantic mess, said. "What type of "kick" did this "human" dish out to your brother?"

"Groin-based—the human kicked him between the legs. He then beat him up; he ran off after Astor and Seth—my two friends—ran in to grab him. I grabbed Guyunis afterwards. I threw him in the BMW then I drove us home." Lhaklar said.

Lhaklar had insisted that a "bum" had beat Guyunis up; they had to accept his story, even though it was so far fetched. Guyunis weighed a good, two hundred and thirty pounds; he was in fine shape, had good muscle, and was plenty strong—no human in his or her right mind would dare touch him and there was no human out there that could beat or take him down. Lhaklar couldn't of been the one that beat Guyunis up; while Lhaklar was agile and strong—in his own right—, he wouldn't of been able to beat their adoptive brother up and they knew that he wouldn't beat Guyunis up either. The only one of them who could face-up against Guyunis, or maybe give Guyunis a good run for his money, was Bile—and even he wouldn't beat him up. Guyunis was one of them. He was their brother. They wouldn't hurt him deliberately, or beat him to a pulp. Bile had mentioned all of this to Lhaklar ten days ago, before trying to get Lhaklar to fess up to what really happened. Lhaklar had kept with his story.

Lhaklar had started acting in a standoffish, cranky, or nervous manner after relaying the story on how the "bum" had beaten Guyunis up. He was still acting that way thirteen days later, which wasn't only strange but damning—no one had gotten up the nerve to ask him why he was acting that way and, while he wanted to know the truth over what happened to Guyunis, he just didn't have the gut-strength to go up to his brother to ask him.

"Heh kid, read a little news before the holiday makes you go "blind"."

A newspaper was suddenly thrust into his hand; he looked at it, then at the human, who had a satchel bag hanging from his left shoulder. The human was giving everyone a paper; he was just throwing it at people, some, of which, smiled and then thanked him while others either dropped or threw theirs away. He rolled his up, then stuck it under his arm, then continued on his way. He had already read that day's paper; he knew about what was going on in the world.

The weather was still creating havoc around the globe; parts of France were experiencing drought or flood-like conditions, Africa and Egypt hadn't received a single drop of rain in over a month, and the island nations were experiencing mild to medium-strength tropical storms. Eurasia was a storm chaser's paradise at the moment; tornadic activity was quite bad there. He had practically been glued to his tv for all of four days, thanks to the tornado footage that was broadcast every time a tornado dropped from the sky. Britain and England had also been hit by strong tropical storms but, for the most part, they had either experienced a lot of rain or a lot of snow. Russian was experiencing a sort of "drought"—no snow had fallen there in well over ten weeks.

That was the low-down on the eastern hemisphere; the western hemisphere, where the Americas were, was experiencing a lot more erratic weather. Four hurricanes, that had winds exceeding category five strength, had struck the eastern coast of North America; three, category three hurricanes had struck the states that surrounded the Gulf of Mexico; and two, category two hurricanes had struck the middle and southern coastlines of California. The states of Oklahoma and Kansas were evacuated after a three-week tornado outbreak occurred. Thanks to there being no rain falling in nearly two months in northern California, northern California was in flames. It had rained a lot near the Canadian border, so a lot of the states, that were near the border, were experiencing floods, and desert-like conditions were being experienced in certain places in Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah.

Severe thunderstorms were experienced in certain parts of Canada and Mexico, snowstorms were experienced in the parts of Mexico where drought-like conditions were use to being felt at this time of year, and the island parts of Canada were either flooded over or were experiencing torrential cold-spells. There was no mention on what Master Vile—the so-called ruler of the western hemisphere—was doing to help the people that lived on the part of the planet that he had control of. Either the man wasn't doing a thing to help anyone—as he suspected—or he was helping a select few—like, maybe the rich or people that he thought were beneficial to his reign.

He had never been one to get into listening or watching or reading political gossip, so he hadn't read or even listened to the news when all the juicy bits about the planet's politics were said. Thanks to the weather, nothing big was happening in sports; there were a few films that were generating a lot of buzz from the media and there were two bands that seemed quite popular with the humans making their rounds of certain parts of lower Europe. His bed had bounced a little after he saw that the tv show, that he became a little obsessed over, was green-lit for another season. He happened on Screamers one day; he hadn't expected to find a tv show that was focused on the monster's point of view and he had definitely not expected to find a show that was so interesting.

Usually, tv shows that revolved around monsters were crappily made. The graphics were terrible, the audio was just as bad, and the episodes were usually very short. The graphics of the tv show that he was a little obsessed over were better than great, the audio was stupendous, and the episodes were the normal length of thirty minutes—they were definitely not the fifteen to twenty minute episodes of the crappily made monster shows that were also shown on the tube. One only needed to watch one episode to be hooked and one only had to watch one episode to notice that the people involved with the show were serious about wanting to grab their viewers' attention. He was looking forward to the next season; the new episodes had already started being filmed. The humans that were involved in the show were saying that it'd be a good six months before the next season was aired.

"Hey!" Hazaar rushed forward as fast as he could. He slapped the hand that was in his brother's left coat pocket; the human who owned the hand glared at him then ran off, Lhaklar turned to look at him a second later. "Brave human—there's nothing in your left coat pocket, right?"

"Both pockets on my coat are empty." Lhaklar replied.

"Good, cause someone just tried to pick your left pocket." Hazaar said. Lhaklar looked at the sky for a second before turning around. He resumed leading them to the bridge that'd take them across the Spree river.

No other humans tried to pick their pockets and nothing else was said between the two of them as they finished their walk up Schiffbauerdamm street; when they reached the section of Schiffbauerdamm that merged onto Kronprinzenbrücke, which was the street that ran across the bridge, they stopped. Lhaklar punched the button that was on the pedestrian light then he stuck both of his hands in his pockets. The wait to cross the street was a long one. Humans crowded behind them; one of the humans pushed him to the edge of the street's curb, and another elbowed by him. He was relieved when the pedestrian light changed; the humans were annoying and his temper was flared by his being jostled around. He and his brother crossed the street quickly, then they started down the bridge that crossed the Spree river—which was as smooth as glass below them.

"Hold up there, Fellas." a guard, who was seated in a station, said after they crossed the bridge. "I'm afraid that, unless you have a valid I.D., you can't go any farther."

"Do we need an appointment as well?" Hazaar heard his brother mumble lowly. Lhaklar took a clip out from his left front pants pocket; he ran through the cards that were in it quickly before taking one of them out. He gave the card to the guard then stood back.

"Thank you—it's only protocol that I ask for a valid I.D. Hope no offense was felt." the guard said. He glanced at the card quickly before giving it back. He then looked at Hazaar. "You next, Fella. Got a valid I.D. on you?"

"Yeah, got a driver's license." Hazaar replied. He took his wallet out from his shirt. The driver's license, that he had just been given in exchange for his driver's permit, was in the money sleeve. He took it out then gave it to the guard, who looked at it quickly before giving it back.

"Have a nice day, Fellas." the guard said. He waved them through then sat back in his booth.

The main buildings that housed the government of Germany were neatly sandwiched between two nicely tended parks. The one that was to their right was flat; there were a few tall trees in the park and each of them had a single bench under them. The other park was also flat, but it had a lot more trees and shrubbery in it. The German Chancellery, the main building from which the government of Germany worked in, and the Paul-Löbe-Haus, one of the functional buildings that belonged to the German government, were between the two parks.

The Reichstag, an immense, Neo-Renaissance building, that had a glass dome on its roof, was right beside the Paul-Löbe-Haus; he stopped after he saw it. He stared at the building, marveling at its design, for all of two minutes, before limping off in pursuit of his brother, who continued on without him. His movements—mainly his limp—, and the fact that he was left behind by his brother, weren't ignored by the group of beings, that were trying to stay in the shadows, that the nearby Schweizerische Botschaft, or Swiss Embassy, was casting.

"Dressed too warmly for the area and his limp's gotten no better," Eldass thought as he adjusted the view on his binoculars.

He wasn't but so surprised over them two things. The Young Masters probably migrated from the south; they probably decided to find some other territory to explore, or they were looking for some place that was packed with humans that were too busy to keep their attentions focused on their bags or pockets. The holiday, that was just two days away, was a big one for the humans; they were going crazy with their shopping and they were also going crazy in trying to find certain places that they were suppose to meet others at. He and his eight-member group had seen many humans taking advantage of all the confusion that was going on in the area. Ten pockets picked, three purses searched through, one purse snatched—the latter had generated some interest from the humans while the others hadn't. It was a good chance that his employer's two young sons were here to just take advantage of the opportunity—the chance to get together some cash for either lodgings or a meal.

What surprised him was the fact that his employer's oldest son, Lhaklar, wasn't paying much attention to his ailing younger brother, who was struggling to walk. Young Master Hazaar was hobbling along. His limp hadn't gotten any better. He couldn't see what type of condition the two youngsters were in weight-wise, so he couldn't tell if they had lost or gained any weight. Young Master Lhaklar still had the gash on his head—it was dark green in color and badly scabbed over; it was healing but very slowly. His employer's oldest son also had the cut to his right cheek—that one was faint. In order to see it, he had to adjust the binoculars three times. It looked like that injury was healing normally.

"Should I contact Commander Tazir?" the Goblin that was standing behind him, who was big in muscle mass, but short in stature, asked.

"Not yet—let's see where they go then we'll contact him." Eldass responded.

The Goblins that were in his group were all seasoned fighters. Military men. Men who were trained for battle, and who had seen time on the battlefield, and who were none too happy with having him as their leader.

It was illegal for one of non-military backing to lead a group—of any size—of folk who were trained for battle and, yet, here he was. Leading a group of eight seasoned fighters in the capital of Germany. He was assigned the job of leading the group for a reason—he was the oldest of his employer's house-keepers, he held himself well, he was well respected by his peers, and he also knew what to do if the Young Masters were happened by. Since this wasn't his first time in leading a group of military-seasoned fighters into the shields of Germany, he wasn't nervous—but that didn't mean that he hadn't, at one point, been nervous after getting such an order to do. He was plenty nervous the first time that he led a group of military-seasoned men into the shields; the men that he was leading were stronger than he and they knew more on how to position themselves when they fought, so they'd be able to take him down in nothing flat.

He took his first order of taking a group of military-seasoned fighters into the shields as a sort of joke. His employer knew the law; he knew it was illegal for a civilian that had no military backing or training to lead any group of seasoned fighters anywhere and he also knew how dangerous it was for one of non-military backing to lead a group of seasoned military men. It was hard the first time he led a group of military-seasoned men into the shields—his nerves were shot... he had practically been turning at every sound that he heard. The second time was easier; this was the fourth time that he led such a group into the shields. He had the role of leading battle-seasoned men down good now.

He and his assigned groups of seasoned fighters had searched Karlsruhe on the ninth of December, Alb-Donau on the fourteenth of December, and Main-Tauber on the sixteenth of December. Up to that morning, he and his assigned groups were restricted to searching parts of the state where the Young Masters were frequently seen in; his employer had decided on having a different area searched that morning. He also decided to become involved in the searching.

He, and the group that he was assigned to lead that day, were sent to the capital of Germany—Berlin—while his employer went with another group of military-seasoned Goblins to Erfurt, which was the capital of the German state of Thuringia. A mutual decision to take a break was made between the members of his group and he after they searched half of Berlin; after settling down near the Schweizerische Botschaft building, he got the urge to use the bathroom. After taking care of that issue, he went back to his group. He noticed an anomaly while on the way back to his group—a green oval, sitting atop a tall body, moving swiftly down the street, in his and his group's direction.

He rushed back to the group, took the pair of binoculars from around the neck of one of the members of his group, then edged himself around the building. A choked gasp escaped him after the binoculars were focused on the anomaly—he hadn't expected to find the Young Masters in the city, nor had he expected to see what he was currently seeing.

"The shorter one seems to have some ailment with one of his legs," the man, who was standing behind him, said.

"Something's been up with his left leg for a few months now—no one knows the reason for why." Eldass returned.

"The taller one doesn't seem all that concerned about him—which ones are we looking at? What're their ages?" the man, who was crouched beside him, asked.

"The taller one is the older one—Lhaklar's his name. He's two thousand, one hundred, and one years old." Eldass replied as he tried to keep Lhaklar and Hazaar in his sights. "The shorter one was born four hundred years after him—his name's Hazaar."

"The taller one looks a lot like Commander Tazir," another man in his group noted.

Lhaklar walked by the Swiss Embassy quickly. He neither stopped or even glanced in the Goblins' direction. Hazaar stopped once, to catch his breath, and to look back at the two buildings that were behind him, before continuing on. When he caught up to his brother, he quickly elbowed him in the side; Lhaklar grunted, but he neither returned the blow or acknowledged him. Eldass, unknown to the two boys, took quick note of the behavior—he pinned the word "tired" to Lhaklar and "playful" to Hazaar—before telling one of the members of his group to hand him a walkie. Lhaklar and Hazaar finished their walk down the street, which was called the Otto-von-Bismarck-Allee, before hurrying along to the modern-looking building that was the German Chancellery. There was a fence in front of the building; they teleported to its other side then they trotted—or, in Hazaar's case, trot-limped—to the blue-paned front doors.

"They're just like the doors that're on the Road Safety Authority building." Lhaklar said after the Chancellery's blue-paned glass front doors "blinked" away, after he and his brother stepped onto the sensitive mat that was in front of the building.

They walked into the building silently; the heads of the humans that were in the lobby turned in their direction almost at once. They heard low whispers of questions pertaining to them being asked. The clicks of high heels could be heard above them—it was an eerie sound... a spooky sound that made their flesh tremble. There was no need in trying to not attract any attention; they had attracted everyone's attention by just walking into the building.

"You sure we're allowed to be in here?" Hazaar asked his brother in a very low whisper. "I feel very invaderly right now."

"I'm not one hundred percent sure—you going to patent that word; invaderly?" Lhaklar returned.

"Not sure, might just forget it after we leave here." Hazaar said. He flinched after a trio of uniform-wearing humans looked at him and his brother. "Or are thrown out."

"Think we'd of been thrown out long before now," Lhaklar said. He stopped, then acknowledged the three, uniform-wearing humans with a wave, before walking on. "I agree with you on the feeling that they're sending out, though. We're like invaders here—aliens."

"Hate to break it to ya, Bro, but we _are_ aliens in this world." Hazaar said. He chuckled lightly before going quiet.

The building's interior, much like the exterior, was very modern in design. Cobalt blue and gray floor tile was under their feet, the walls were a light blue color, and the ceiling was a very light gray color. There were four, walnut wood desks in the lobby—three of which were occupied by a secretary. Four benches and a steel blue modern couch were to the far left of the lobby; some of the walls had framed landscape paintings and photographs on them. There was a tall, watercross floor fountain in the lobby's center. He and his brother stopped for a few seconds to look at the fountain before going towards the stairs. They took to the stairs quickly then stopped, after realizing that they didn't know where Stefan Leinart's office was. They didn't know where anything was in the building. Since the lobby was the only part of the building that they knew the location of, they back-tracked to it.

"Pardon, ma'am." Lhaklar said after stopping before the desk that was closest to the stairs. The woman that was behind the desk looked up and then at him.

"Yes, how may I help you?" the woman asked.

"My brother and I are looking for a specific office—the President's." Lhaklar said. "Do you know where that is?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid that I can't send you to it." the woman replied. "President Leinart is a very important man—he can only be seen through arranged appointment."

"Our mother sent us to see him." Lhaklar said. He hoped that was enough to get the woman talking on what he and his brother needed to know.

"I'm sorry sir, you can't see him unless you have an appointment." the woman said. Except for calling the three, uniform-wearing humans over, she said nothing more to them.

His brother's face became set. Became angry-like. Hazaar was quick to notice it and he was also quick in jabbing his hand forward. He grabbed his brother by the wrist then he tugged him back, towards the building's entrance. He thought that Lhaklar's action in becoming angry over the secretary telling him that they couldn't see Mr. Leinart without an appointment was strange—he and Lazeer were the ones that "flew" at the drop of a hat. They were the ones that were going through that phase that made them feel or be extra moody. Lhaklar was older than they were; he was usually the calm, cool, and collected one. He shouldn't be this moody or agitated—the Temperamental phase had its round with him a long time ago.

The uniform-wearing humans, all men and all lean-bodied, but strong-looking, approached them. He gave his brother a fierce tug, then started leading him towards the front doors. His brother looked at the secretary, then at the three men that were on their three sides, before turning around. He had just released his brother's wrist when a feminine voice shattered the quiet of the building's lobby—he and his brother seized up; their shoulders hunched forward before dropping low. The humans that were escorting them to the front doors stopped at once. They, as a unit, turned towards the stairs after the voice was heard.

"They're fine," Lise Raskop said to the three men that were escorting the two "alien" boys out of the building. "If there was no reason for them to be here they wouldn't be here."

"The taller one said that they're here to see President Leinart—we go by protocol, Mrs. Raskop. Appointment only, and no civilians allowed in the building. Only government officials." the secretary who called the three, uniform-wearing men over returned.

"I assure you that they're fine," Lise said to the secretary. She turned her attention to the three men that were still standing around Lhaklar and Hazaar. "Bring them to the stairs. I'll take it from here."

He and his brother turned around; they let the three men lead them to the stairs then they took over in going up them. They went straight to the woman that was waiting for them. The woman, who stood around five foot, six inches, and who had dark blonde hair and dark blue eyes, smiled at them after they reached her. She turned then led them up the rest of the stairs, then down the hallway that was on the second floor, before stopping at a mahogany, half-round desk, that had a desktop computer, a file rack, a stapler, a phone, and one of them super-sleek LED desk lamp's on its surface.

"If you'll sit there, I'll ring the president and see if he can see you now." the woman said. She pointed at a brown-stained bench, that was across the hall. While she walked around the desk, they went to the bench; she was picking the receiver of the phone up at the same time that they were sitting down.

"Think you need a nap when we get home." Hazaar said to his brother after they seated themselves on the bench. "You're crankier than me today—that's pretty damn bad!"

"Watch your language—you're in a government building." Lhaklar shot.

"Watch _your_ attitude— _you're_ in a government building." Hazaar shot back.

"Yes, Mr. Leinart. They're right here—they were in the process of being escorted out of the building when I went down to retrieve the papers that you asked me to bring you." the woman was saying on the phone. "Uh-uh—I'm not sure, sir. Other than Miss. Rieth saying something about their wanting to see you, their reason for being here isn't known."

"Think we'll see him?" Hazaar asked his brother.

"Prob'bly—it's up to him." Lhaklar replied.

"Yes—I'll send them in right away." the woman said.

"Guess that's a yes—we _will_ be allowed to see him." Lhaklar said as he stood up.

The woman, who introduced herself as Lise Raskop, led them down the hall, then past three offices, before stopping at a door that had a gold-plated sign on it that said _Stefan A. Leinart—President_. She knocked on the door twice before gesturing for them to go in. They went into the room slowly.

There was nothing fancy about the office that they walked into. It was just your regular, basic office, complete with a dark brown wooden desk—which was to the far right of the room—and three chairs. The black leather swivel chair, that was behind the desk, looked expensive; there were two black-colored, bonded leather chairs in front of the desk. Photographs of Mr. Leinart's family decorated the office's walls; the one bookcase that was in the room had many books and diplomas on it. Mr. Leinart was in the office; he was walking around the desk when they came in.

"Lhaklar, Hazaar. Wasn't expecting for you two to pay a visit." the man, who was sappily dressed in a black tuxedo, said after the office door was closed behind them.

"Our mother asked for us to come see you." Lhaklar said.

"That so—there a reason? While I don't mind you two paying me a visit, I would like for a warning to be given before anyone drops by."

"Yeah," Lhaklar said. He reached into his coat for the wrapped package that he had at the same time that his brother was mouthing a spell that'd make the envelope that he had in his shirt appear in his hand. "Our mother wanted us to give you these—" the wrapped package and the envelope "floated" across the room to the desk; Mr. Leinart stared at the two items in wide-eyed disbelief for a second or two before picking them up. "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you, Boys." Mr. Leinart said. He cleared his throat before starting the process of unwrapping the package and then opening the envelope. "That... thing you two just did... you seem to have very good control of it."

"Thank you—we were taught very well at the school that we went to." Lhaklar said.

The envelope contained exactly what they thought it did—a Christmas card, that had a Nativity scene on its front flap, made out to Mr. Leinart and "mother" signed by all of them. Mr. Leinart looked at the card, read it, then thanked them for it—they figured that the usual would happen with the card; while the gesture was a good one, the humans were notoriously famous for either trashing the holiday cards that they were given or placing them in a box that was usually kept in the closet or attic. The wrapped package contained a little something more expensive. Something that neither of them had expected their mother to find and then buy for a friend of the family and something that Mr. Leinart wasn't expecting to receive from them.

Watches were a gift for any occasion. Birthdays, Christmases, graduations, promotions... they were even given as date-gifts. On average, a human was given around ten or so watches in his or her lifetime. The watch that Mr. Leinart pulled out from the now-unwrapped package was new. New technology. Just recently patented and just recently put out to market. Solar-powered watches had been in the works for the last fifty or so years but, until recently, no one had the nerve to patent or put them out to market. The watch that Mr. Leinart was examining was silver-white in color; the band was in one piece, and the clock-part of the watch was square in shape. Mr. Leinart looked the watch over—from top to bottom, from side to side, and then again from top to bottom—before putting it on. He pulled the tab that was in the side of the watch out then held it to his ear. He nodded a second later. The watch was working. It was ticking.

"Thank you," the man, who's hazel-colored eyes were twinkling, said. What happened next made Lhaklar seize up—Mr. Leinart, the man who helped their family get situated in the town of Elchesheim-Illingen, crossed the room then grabbed Lhaklar up in a tight hug. He did the same to Hazaar, who, instead of seizing up, returned it. "Tell your mum and your bruders thanks for me as well."

"Sure. Course we will." Lhaklar said back.

Their visit with Mr. Leinart spanned a short ten minutes—Mr. Leinart was, indeed, busy. There was a pile of either unread or unsigned papers on the blotter of his desk and the file rack that was also on his desk was also full. The man said that he was reading and signing a lot of security forms the last few weeks, and he also said that he was attending a lot of meetings that revolved around the country's security levels too. His family was well; everyone was healthy. They were looking forward to spending the holiday together and they were also looking forward to the near two-week long vacation that he had coming up. Lhaklar's attitude remained good for the entire visit—he was neither grouchy or agitated; he was his old, usual self.

They didn't stick around after their visit. They got out of the building fast. Lise Raskop, the woman who kept them from being thrown out of the building, waved at them as they walked by her desk. They waved back then hurried along. They went down the stairs, then they went to the building's front. The doors "blinked" out when they approached them then they "blinked" back into view after they walked by them. They were well on their way back to the fence that was around the front of the building before anything was said between the two of them.

"Ever have to bust a gut to keep the laughs in after you've used your Telekinesis in front of the humans?" Hazaar asked.

"Heck yeah! Their expressions are just priceless—what was that? Something just "flew" by. Nothing was in-control of it. How did that happen?" Lhaklar replied.

"It's hilarious!" Hazaar chuckled. "Thought my stomach was going to explode after we used our Telekinesis to move what we had to Mr. Leinart's desk—he was all eyes, man!"

"All eyes and afraid to go near what we just placed on his desk—classic!" Lhaklar responded.

Hazaar challenged his brother to an age-old climbing race—who could climb the fence the fastest and who could get to the fence's other side first. Lhaklar took his brother's challenge on. He grabbed the links of the fence then started to climb at the same time that a bunch of shadows moved across the strips of grass that were in front of the Chancellery. Lhaklar and Hazaar were neck-and-neck for a while, then Lhaklar pulled in front; he threw his leg over the top of the fence then turned. The laces of one of his brother's shoes had become hooked in the fence's links; while his brother worked to get his laces free, he worked himself down the rest of the fence.

Working quickly, not wanting to lose the race, but knowing full-heartily that he was going to, Hazaar worked his laces free from the fence then hurried along. He threw one of his legs over the top of the fence a few seconds later then froze up; his wrap-around, deep purple eyes went wide the second he saw the semi-circle of Goblins that were around his brother. His eyes became even wider when he saw his father, who wasn't only a few feet away but who was also walking towards the fence-line.

"You stuck up there, son?" his father asked him. "Need someone to help you get down?"


	36. Chapter 36

Berlin wasn't always the capital of Germany or the German government. Many thousands of years ago, before the country unified itself, the capital was with the imperial ruling family: The Hapsburgs, in Vienna, Austria.

Any old, historical textbook would say the following: that, after the Congress of Vienna created the formal German Confederation in 1815, a Federal Assembly convened at the Free City of Frankfurt, representing not the people of the individual German Lands but their sovereigns. The city of Frankfurt became a brief capital after the short-lived Revolutions that took place in 1848 in the German states. It was only during the 1871 Unification of Germany that the newly unified German Empire was assigned an official capital. Since Berlin was the capital of Prussia, the leading state of the new Reich, it became the capital of Germany as well. Berlin was the capital of Prussia since 1518; except for the brief period that followed the first World War, it remained the capital of Germany until the conclusion of War World II.

Germany, and its capital, Berlin, was split in half after the second World War; East Germany, as it was called at the time, had taken East Berlin as its capital while West Germany had taken the university town of Bonn as its. Historical documents claimed that, originally, the city of Frankfurt was to be the provisional capital of West Germany; the decision to make Bonn the capital was based on West Germany's intention of making Berlin the capital if the country was ever reunified—and, also, the officials of West Germany had feared that, since Frankfurt was a major city in its own right, it would ultimately be accepted as a permanent capital and weaken the West German support for reunification. There was also a little side-note in the textbooks that claimed that Bonn had also been chosen as West Germany's capital because it was close to Cologne, which was the hometown of West Germany's first chancellor, Konrad Adenauer.

The reunification of Germany took place in 1990; Berlin was also reunified at the time and, as intended, it reclaimed its status as the capital of the country. It took a year more before the decision to move the main seats of the country's government to the capital. The main government's move to the capital took eight years; the university town of Bonn became a secondary seat of government afterwards. It was still regarded as a secondary seat of government to that day.

"And so, ladies and gentlemen, as you can see here by these photographs, and the data that's been compiled over the last few months, our security has been breached more than once." Bettina Gottlieb, a modestly built woman, who had platinum-blonde hair and chartreuse-green eyes, said to the men and women that were seated at the long table, that was in one of the meeting halls, that were in the Reichstag building. "These... creatures have been video taped by both security cameras and civilian-owned cellular phones—while no civilians have been harmed by these creatures, it is still imperative that we stomp any advances that they may be preparing to in-act on our country. Our civilians—our people—and our very livelihoods are threatened by the appearances of these creatures—who, may I add, may be working on the behalf of the cretin across the Atlantic."

"Mrs. Gottlieb, we've been sitting here for nearly two hours listening to you speak on the security breach. While what you've said is true, and alarming, I see no point in disrupting the lives of one family who has no involvement in the issue with which this meeting is about." Ajeet Ballal, who was five seats down the table, said.

"I'd like to hear why this family's been brought up," Gustav Maihofer, a gray-haired man, who had gray-blue eyes, said. "I've been in numerous meetings the last few days; our president continues to declare their innocence, as has Mr. Ballal. Has this family done something to cause the breach in security or are they being scapegoated?"

"Mr. Maihofer, if you will notice the data that's on the whiteboard, no problems were encountered until after their arrival. All "alien" activity was centered in the Americas—no aliens came by or bothered us. We continued as we were peacefully." Bettina Gottlieb replied. "The "alien" activity that we've experienced the last few months started almost immediately after this one family's arrival here. The camp in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve, the aliens being sighted in Munich soon after the discovery of the camp in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve, and now the security breach by these short, Troll-like creatures... all of what we've experienced in the latter part of this year has happened after this one family's arrival here—even the strange weather that we've experienced."

"The family that you speak of isn't the only family that moved to our country in August, Mrs. Gottlieb." Katharina Fuchs, a mid-aged woman, who had graying brown hair and brown eyes, said quickly. "I see no reason for them to be brought up in conjunction with the security breach."

Ajeet, his chin nestled neatly on the end of his left thumb, nodded his head at Katharina Fuchs's words. What the woman had just said was true; the records showed that a little over five hundred families—some with children, some without children, and some with pets and some without pets—had moved to the country in August. All of them families had settled into the country, had become German citizens, and, as far as he was concerned, none of them had any involvement in the situation that Bettina Gottlieb was speaking about.

Bettina Gottlieb, the bitch who was the chief of his country's security agency, was trying her best to get the Irene family removed from the country. She was an insistent one; even after four meetings on the issue of the aliens that were in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve, she still considered the Irene family the main point of interest. President Leinart had squared-off with her on the matter of the family more than once; he had dealt with her on the matter of the family twice now and, now, she was trying to get under the skin of others.

Except for the president, who was currently overloaded with paperwork, everyone who needed to be here was here. To his left was Wilda Schmidt, who was the current minister of the Federal Ministry of Health. To his right was Sigmar Röttgen, who was the current minister of the Federal Ministry for Environment, Nature Conservation and Nuclear Safety. Across from him sat Katharina Fuchs, who was the current president minister of the Federal Ministry of Family Affairs, Senior Citizens, Women and Youth and, to her immediate left, sat Gustav Maihofer, who was the current minister of the Federal Ministry of the Interior. Mrs. Gottlieb had sent notice to President Leinart about the meeting; the man's secretary had come back saying that he was deeply sorry for not being in attendance. He was the last one called in for the meeting; apparently, Mrs. Gottlieb wanted everyone who was involved with family, national security, military, and health affairs and who knew the Irene family best to be at the meeting. While he didn't know the Irene family that well he knew them enough to stick up for them—they were a good family; in his book, they were good, decent folk who tried their best to stay out of trouble and who also tried to be as normal as possible.

The file that he had in front of him had all the necessary data that Mrs. Gottlieb had asked him to bring to the meeting. All of what he was able to find on the Irene family was in the file; from the name of the businesses that Miss. Irene and her second oldest son, Lhaklar, worked at, to the hours and days that they were suppose to be in for work, and to their monthly purchases and bill payments. He also had on-file the people that the Irene boys were frequently seen with. The Irene boys acted much like human teenagers—they had friends; they bought certain items that normal, human teenagers would buy; and their out-of-the-house activities were very human-like in structure. Miss. Irene also acted very normal; she worked, she paid the bills, she bought groceries and things that pertained to her children's needs or interests, and she also took care of the house that she and her sons lived in. There were no discrepancies in the file; everything was checked and then re-checked and then checked again. He also had the conversation that he and Miss. Irene had on the morning of the eighth of November in the file. His participation in rescuing Lhaklar from the Rastatter Rheinaue alien camp was also in the file.

Except for lacking the man who knew the family best, he was ready if anything should come up about the Irene family.

"As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing that we should concern ourselves about with this family," Sigmar Röttgen, an aging, Afro-German man, who was wearing a dark blue tuxedo, said. "The breach of security is the issue with which we should be concerned about—the family that you've verbally included in this meeting seems to have no connection to the breach."

"What type of evidence is there to damn this family?" Wilda Schmidt, who was the youngest woman in the room, asked. "I see nothing on the whiteboard that's damning or worthy of our attention."

The interactive whiteboard, that was behind Bettina Gottlieb, was full of items that Bettina had either placed on it or that appeared after she pressed a button or two on her slim, Samsung laptop.

A date outline—with the exact date and time of Miss. Irene and her family's arrival to the country, Master Vile's take-over of the Americas, the Rastatter Rheinaue camp's discovery, and when the three drones were sent out to scope the Rastatter Rheinaue camp after its discovery—were the first things that were put up on the whiteboard. Reports of the erratic weather that was being experienced around the globe, newspaper clippings that had mentions of the aliens that were seen at Oktoberfest II, photographs of what he called the "main-dawgs" of the Rastatter Rheinaue camp, and photographs of the Troll-like creatures that were noted as being seen inside the shields that surrounded the country's various towns and cities were put up next.

He came close to laughing after a photograph—which had a datestamp of November the twenty-sixth and a timestamp of 03:21:12 AM in the lower left corner—of the Danceclub Musikpark showed up on the whiteboard. The venue was the holding-place of a hologram concert; one of many that the city of Pforzheim was showing at the time. The older of the Irene boys was in the photograph, as was Miss. Irene's adopted son; a few "Trolls" were also in the photograph, but they were way back from the boys. The security cameras at the venue had captured video and photographic evidence of ten Troll-like beings in the establishment and seven civilians had also come in contact with the beings—most of the civilians were inebriated or nearly inebriated at the time of contact; two of the seven civilians who had contact with the "Trolls" claimed that the beings just told them to scram. No bodily harm was done to them.

He and President Leinart both knew about the sighting; a call was placed right after the president saw the evidence of the "Trolls" at the venue. Miss. Irene was shocked over the sighting, but she kept her cool throughout the entire conversation. Bile and Guyunis were questioned on their concert outing; both claimed that they didn't see or hear a thing about any "Trolls" being at the venue. The two went to the concert, had a good time, then went to an ice cream, milkshake, and smoothie parlor afterwards—the parlor's security footage did show them entering, ordering, and then leaving the establishment. While the "Trolls" followed them to the parlor, they didn't mess with them or cause any trouble. The footage from the parlor had shown a clocking of 03:52:03 AM; Miss. Irene claimed that her sons returned home at nearly four in the morning. That collaborated with the parlor's security footage very well.

"The matter that I've called us all here to discuss is very security-based—this family is apparently being followed or searched-for by the aliens in the Rastatter Rheinaue camp. We have pictures that show similar, Troll-like beings in the camp, so we're assuming that the Troll-like beings, that have been seen inside the shields of our country, are commanded by one of the aliens that reside in the camp." Bettina said back. "Ladies and gentlemen, by letting this family be free-roaming, we're putting the lives of our human civilians in danger. We must prevent that from happening. We must—"

"You suggesting that we take the freedom of a family that's causing no harm to anyone or anything?" Katharina Fuchs asked.

"Where would we put them if we removed them from society?" Gustav Maihofer asked. "Are you asking for a move to a secure facility, that'd keep them under constant vigilance, or are you asking for them to be completely removed from the country?"

"The family that we're speaking of is of high importance to our human race," Wilda Schmidt said. "We'd be slapping the very face of our race—our people; the whole people of Earth—if we removed them from society or treated them wrongly."

"The head of the family has shown no interest in protecting this planet for a while now—since her return one thousand, six hundred, and one years ago. She has apparently turned her back on us so—"

"That is bull!" Ajeet roared. He stood up; his fists drummed the table's surface once before going still. "The head of that family has _not_ turned her back on us!"

"Mr. Ballal, please. Calm y—"

"She strengthened some of the shields that needed strengthening a few months ago." Wilda, who's face bore the very look of shock on it, said quickly. "That, in itself, shows that she is still on our side and that she hasn't turned her back on us."

While it was very unprofessional to leave a meeting before a decision was reached, or before the meeting was called to a close, they all agreed that Sigmar Röttgen's action of standing and then leaving the room was rightly done. Wilda Schmidt shook her head at Bettina Gottlieb, then started collecting her things. She left the room at the same time that Katharina Fuchs did. Ajeet remained at his seat for nearly a minute; he stared at Bettina angrily before grabbing his file. He left the room; Gustav Maihofer followed him, he was mumbling under his breath about how disrespectful Mrs. Gottlieb was. Ajeet couldn't agree more with Gustav; Bettina had shown her real face, which was just as ugly as her usual, pleasant one. Evicting a family without cause was one thing; evicting the family, who was headed by their planet's heroine, was another. Everyone on the planet owed Miss. Irene a favor—if not for her, the entire planet's history would of been changed a long time ago.

No one in that family was bad; while he didn't know the family as well as the president did, he knew for a fact that that was true. Miss. Irene had raised them boys well; none of them acted in any way, shape, or form evil and none of them were causing any harm to anyone.

"She's going to be asked to resign from her post if she keeps it up." Wilda Schmidt was saying down the hall to Katharina Fuchs.

"If she hasn't been asked already—President Leinart would of demanded her immediate resignation if he was at that meeting." Katharina Fuchs said back.

"I don't go with or agree with backstabbers." Wilda said before walking down the hall.

"Ditto, Mrs. Schmidt." Katharina said to Wilda's backside.

Except for the glass dome, that had a staircase that spiraled up to the building's roof inside it, and the transparent glass handrails, that were on the stairs and walls, that allowed for visitors to see the goings-on of certain working politicians, the interior of the building that he was currently on his way to exiting looked quite a lot like a historical museum. A lot of the ruins of the old building had been preserved over the years; the masonry structure was still in its original shape, as was some parts where there was writing from Soviet soldiers.

Construction on the building that he was in had started on June 9, 1884; it took a full ten years before construction was complete. The building actually caught fire on February 27, 1933—historical documents, and the history books, claimed that the cause of the fire wasn't known, but what was known was this: the fire gave a pretext for the Nazis to suspend most rights that were provided by the 1919 Weimar Constitution in the Reichstag Fire Decree in an effort to weed out communists and increase state security throughout Germany. The building wasn't used for parliamentary sessions during the twelve years of National Socialist—or Nazi—rule; an opera house, that once stood opposite the building, was used the few times that the Reichstag convened. The main meeting hall of the building, which was deemed unstable after the fire, was used for propaganda presentations and, during World War II, for military purposes.

The building, which was never fully repaired after the fire, was further damaged by air raids in World War II; the building became one of the central targets for the Red Army—the Russians—to capture, due to its perceived symbolic significance during the Battle of Berlin, which took place in 1945. The preserved soviet writing and graffiti that was on the still-smoky walls was from that era.

The building became a ruin after World War II; it was a sad, empty building from 1945 to 1990. While the idea of tearing the building down was thought and spoken of, a decision of restoring it was done instead. The old cupola—or small dome—of the original building was the only thing demolished; the rest was either restored or reconstructed. A man named Paul Baumgarten was in charge of the rebuilding/reconstruction; he was the one responsible for removing all of the sumptuous heraldic statues, monuments, decorations, and the like that harked back to the mythology of the German past from not only the inside but also the outside of the building. The man had basically created a plain building inside the historic Reichstag; the artistic and practical value of his work was the subject of much debate after the German reunification.

The final reconstruction happened in 1992; a man by the name of Norman Foster was the architect in charge. The building was almost completely gutted during the first phase of the reconstruction; everything, including all changes made by Baumgarten in the 1960's, was removed. Respect for the historical aspects of the building was one of the conditions stipulated to the architects that were working on the building, so traces of historical events were retained in a visible state. The reconstruction was completed in 1999; the Bundestag convened there officially for the first time on the nineteenth of April of that year.

The glass dome, that was on the roof of the building, wasn't apart of Norman Foster's original design. The dome was built to symbolize Germany's reunification, and it was also built to symbolize that the people were above the government.

"And it was miraculously sparred in both the third and fourth World Wars—thank God for small favors!" Ajeet thought as he stepped out of the building.

A breeze, that had a nice, chilly nip to it, struck him after he exited the building. He stopped, relishing in its coolness, for a few seconds. The people that lived south of Berlin had gotten a lot of snow the last few days and, from what the people that forecast the weather were saying, they were going to have more falling in the next few days. He was honestly jealous; even though he complained a lot over the last few months about the weather, he did like the snow and he did fantasize about white Christmases. It looked like the people south of his location were going to have a white Christmas; the forecast for the people that lived up north wasn't assured. The one who was in control of the weather gauges was the only one who knew what type of weather would be experienced on the twenty-fifth of December.

He stood in place, letting the wind blow through his hair, and into his face, for nearly a minute before moving on. His action of going forward was what got him attracted to what was going on in front of the Chancellery building that was across from the Reichstag building.

"Tourists," he thought as he continued on his way, going towards the Reichstag parking lot, where his car was. "Even with the holidays coming up, they have to go looking at the Chancellery."

While civilians were allowed to tour the Reichstag building, they weren't allowed to enter the Chancellery. They were allowed to look at the building from the outside, but they weren't allowed to go in to see what the interior looked like. There looked to be a good number of tourists in front of the Chancellery; all were facing the building, so he couldn't tell what their features looked like and it was this fact that made him nearly miss what they really were. He was almost ready to turn towards the parking lot that his car was parked in when he saw a spot of green rise and then rush towards him. The green spot landed hard, then bounced up. It ran back to the fence that was in front of the Chancellery at the same time that a yell was heard.

The yell was all it took for him to get going; he dropped the file that he was holding then he pulled the military issue SIG Sauer P226 semi-automatic pistol out from the holster that was on the left side of his belt. He crept forward stealthily while releasing the safety; the figures that were near the Chancellery neither noticed him nor turned around. He found that to be a good thing, because there was no cover for him. The strips of grass, that were between the sidewalks that stretched between the Reichstag building and the Chancellery, had a few, thin-trunked trees on them; that wasn't enough to offer him cover. He'd either have to steal forward quickly, take in the situation, then decide what to do, or fire his weapon now and ask questions later.

He was halfway across the grass and sidewalk patches when another of the figures that were near the Chancellery rose and then flew off. The creature, which he automatically noticed wasn't human, did exactly what the first figure did: it landed on the ground hard, then it bounced up, then it ran back to fence-line that was in front of the Chancellery. He started running towards the group of figures when their formation pulled in tighter; a gasping yell was heard, then he heard someone with a gravelly-sounding voice chide someone within the group.

"That's enough!" the gravelly-voiced person said. There was a heavy hint of authority and annoyance in the voice.

"Should we rush in and grab or—" one of the creatures asked the gravelly-voiced person, that Ajeet hadn't yet noticed.

"Unless I tell you to, no."

His heart leaped into his throat after he saw what he was up against. The index finger, that was ready to squeeze the trigger of his pistol, went numb for a second; when he regained the feeling in that finger, he had to fight himself to not fire his weapon. There were seventeen, squat-sized creatures circling three, taller beings—two of whom he knew, while the other he had only seen photographs of. The complexion of the seventeen, squat-sized creatures varied; most of the creatures were dark blue, light blue, or green in color. There were two in the group that had light brown skin. Except for one, they were all very nicely attired in military garb and well-muscled; the one that was just inside the semi-circle looked a bit taller than the others and he—if it was a male—also looked thinner... emaciated, in comparison to the others.

As he crept closer to the group, he realized that he saw the one that was in the middle of the semi-circle in person before. He and President Leinart had fired at him after Lhaklar jumped into the back of the jeep that he had only just gotten through parking behind the kite-shaped ship that was in the Rastatter Rheinaue camp. The creature did something to make the ground split apart under the vehicle. While he worked to get the vehicle level-enough to make a clean get-away, President Leinart shot at him—from what he was told, the president wounded him.

The supposed wounding happened during the early evening hours of November the eighth; the alien looked none the worse for wear for whatever wound was given to him. He looked in fine shape, actually. The other two that were in the group were youngsters and it looked like they were in trouble and in need of some serious help.

"And Lhaklar just so happens to be in the way," Ajeet said as he crept closer, slower this time and with a lot more reserve.

He neither saw Ajeet Ballal's progress across the grass and sidewalk strips or noticed that he was wielding a weapon; the only thing that was in his sights was his father... and the "army" of Goblins that formed a half-circle around him and his brother. The Goblins, seventeen total, had come out of nowhere. He and Hazaar were surprised by their arrival. They hadn't had a chance to run away, much less get ready for a fight. Their father showing up had been an equal surprise—as was his father's accusing him of abandoning his brother "in his time of need".

Hazaar had froze up on the fence after the semi-circle of Goblins formed around them; the fence buckling down under his weight was the only reason why he was down here, behind him. The fence had buckled, his brother had fallen, then his father had gotten angry at him for not helping his brother to his feet—Hazaar had actually slapped his hand away from him, so it was pretty evident that he didn't want his help.

A good chunk of the Goblins that made up the semi-circle were from his father's army; they were mean-faced, there was a glazed look in each of their eyes, and they seemed to want to rush in to get him and his brother. The only Goblin that wasn't mean-faced, or that didn't have a glazed look in the eye, was Eldass; he was inside the semi-circle, just a few feet from his father. He started using his Telekinesis and Acidic powers after Hazaar rebuffed his attempts to help him to his feet; three Goblins were thrown from the semi-circle while another two were burned. His father only came into the semi-circle after he started using his powers; he tried to use his powers on him to no avail. His father was a fast, smart man; he was able to dodge his Acidic attacks and he was also able to prevent him from using his Telekinesis on him.

"Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh—rule number one my young son and heir do not attack my military Goblins." his father said, after he spoke a spell to make any and all of his power abilities—meaning his Acidic, Elemental, Transforming, and Energy powers—and learned abilities—his Telepathy and Telekinesis—become null and void.

Naturally, rule number two was for him to not attack his father. Now that he was stripped of any way of defending himself, power-wise, he was just standing by; Hazaar was behind him and slightly to his right. He seemed fine. His leg didn't seem to be hurting him any.

None of what was going on was helping his attitude any; he knew he was acting like a grouch for the last two weeks, but no one, other than he, knew the reason for it. His grouchiness, his standoffishness, and his nervousness wasn't caused by Guyunis's fight with his grandfather—his working overtime at the Die Heiß und Hastig and his need for nicotine was the cause for it.

He was kicking his ass the last two weeks to bring in enough money for his family for both next month's bills, their savings, and for his family's holiday shopping. His boss, Janina Duerr, had told him a few weeks ago that, if he ever wanted to come in for extra dancing, or for overtime, he could and, with Christmas coming up, he took her offer up. Money issues weren't a concern last month, like his mother had worried about, and they had definitely not been an issue this month—he was the full cause of that. The bills were being speedily paid; and the kitchen cabinets, and the refrigerator, were never low. His family was also allowed to splurge a little last month. While the bills and the pantries were still stocked and paid on time this month, the splurging for personal interests had stopped; they purchased their monthly magazines and smokes but nothing other than that and the reason for that was because their minds were set on getting things for one another for the upcoming holiday.

His mother was using her own hard-earned money to buy the family gifts for the upcoming holiday; he was fronting his brothers around a hundred euros for the last two weeks for their Christmas shopping. The underside of the tree, that was in the corner to the left of the gas-powered fireplace, was looking rather full nowadays. While he was proud of himself for helping his family out he did wish that he had a little something to smoke; his mother took his smokes two weeks ago, after he brought a badly beaten Guyunis home. He hadn't been allowed to smoke anything for a over a week because he didn't do more to help Guyunis with the "bum" that he picked a fight with.

"I'll take these," his mother said about two hours after he and Guyunis came home. The pack of Black Devil cigarettes, that he had just gotten through breaking the seal on, was snatched from his hand a short second later.

"Mom?" he was honestly flabbergasted over his smokes being taken; while there were other things taken from him, games and certain privileges and freedoms, he had never had his smokes taken from him before. He had just stared at her with his mouth half ajar; he bet Lazeer would of said something comical pertaining to how he reacted to his smokes being confiscated.

"For not helping your brother more in his fight, you're not allowed to smoke anything until the clock strikes twelve on New Year's." she said.

He wasn't able to speak with her on this; he was much too shocked over what was taken from him. He hadn't once thought about asking Hazaar or Guyunis or Bile for one of the smokes that they partaked in; he took the punishment maturely. Even though he kept telling himself that he had a little over a week to go before he could smoke again, it was still hard—he was doing his best to keep his nicotine withdrawal symptoms down and he was also trying his best to keep his family in the dark about his withdrawal issues. From what he could tell, they just thought he was on-edge from not getting enough sleep—which was true; between working overtime, and dealing with nicotine withdrawal, he wasn't getting as much sleep as he should.

"I commend you on your finding my sons and on your description of my sons, Mr. Zultoa." TazirVile Surfeit said to the Goblin that was standing a few feet behind him. After he commended the Goblin he turned his attention towards his sons. "You two decide to migrate north—beat the weather—or did that mean man force you up here?"

"Mean man?" Hazaar mumbled. "Either the old man's lost a screw or two upstairs or I don't know what he's talking about."

"Pardon, but I don't think I got any of that, Hazaar."

"Nothing," Lhaklar said quickly. "He said nothing."

"While I understand your need to be a chatterbox I do think I was speaking to your brother, Lhaklar." TazirVile said. "Hazaar, what was you saying?"

"Nuthin'," Hazaar replied quickly.

"Don't let your brother intimidate you now. Speak. I'm sure that whatever—"

"He said nothing." Lhaklar said back.

"Speaking over and interrupting your elders now, Lhaklar? Seems I have some work ahead of me in weeding out your bad habits." TazirVile said. He sounded very annoyed. "As I was sa—"

"What're you fuckin' deaf? You asked him a question and—"

"I do believe I was speaking to your—"

"—he came back saying nothing so you got your answer!"

"If memory proves me correct, I named my secondborn son Hazaar—not Lhaklar. And, if my memory is also correct, I do believe I was speaking to said named secondborn son." TazirVile now sounded angry.

"Dude! You really _do_ need a nap after we—"

In a way, this was exactly how he expected for them to act. Hostile, rude, and with no regard for respecting their elders. With having no parental guardian keeping watch over them, they became wild. They reverted back to acting like children-children instead of mid-teenagers, who knew how to act and who knew the consequences of their bad deeds or actions.

Up to the last-minute dream that he had this morning, he was fully meaning to continue sending small platoons and squads of his Goblin army into the shields that surrounded the towns and cities of the state where his sons were frequently seen in. The dream, a very vivid one, had shown him leading a group of Goblins to some state that was north of the one that his and his family's camps were in; another group of Goblins were sent further north. While he didn't hear the name of the area that he sent them to, he had a feeling after waking up that Berlin was the place that they were sent to.

The dream was incomplete when he woke up and, except for the one, small sighting of one of his sons, it seemed pointless. The dream nagged him all throughout breakfast; up to his mentioning his dream to his mother and stepfather, he was still planning on having two groups of his military Goblins search Baden-Württemberg.

"Maybe what you dreamed was a sign," his mother said after he explained his dream in full detail. "You've turned this state over more than once this month and you've not found a thing of your sons—maybe it's time to search other states."

"With the weather being the way it is, they might of gone somewhere else." his stepfather said. "Might of followed the herds as they move north or, quite possibly, are looking for a place that isn't frequented by their tormentor."

The decision to search the northern states was made afterwards; he led a group of Goblins to the state of Thuringia while Eldass led another group to Berlin. He and his group found nothing, while Eldass and his group had. A whole day's search wasn't for nothing, and it did seem that his dream was a sign because here he was. He had not one but two of his sons in front of him and they had, indeed, been found in the north.

While their actions of being hostile and rude were expected he wasn't really expecting for them to act so violent towards one another. Eldass had said something about Lhaklar ignoring Hazaar, who was struggling to keep up earlier; when he and his group of militia Goblins showed up, Eldass told him that he thought his oldest son was "tired". That observation had made sense—his two sons were far from Baden-Württemberg; unless they used teleportation to get to the location, they traveled all night to get here. Lhaklar also had that wound on his head; it was possibe that that was causing him some grief too.

He said his oldest son's name, after he knocked his elbow into Hazaar ribs, then he walked forward, after his oldest son back-slapped his brother. One slap was enough to make his oldest son turn on him. Lhaklar pounced like an angry Tiger; he slammed his fists into his face and shoulders twice before being driven back. His oldest son shook his head after being driven back before coming at him again. He reacted in the same way that he had on the first offense—by grabbing and then throwing him back, against the fence-line.

"That is enough!" TazirVile barked.

When his oldest son tried to run off, he prevented him from doing so by blocking his path. Lhaklar lunged at him before turning and then going in the opposite direction. Towards Hazaar, who he came close to trampling. TazirVile reacted quickly to prevent the trampling; he grabbed his oldest son by the wrist then ripped him back. When his son turned to face him, he wasted no time in swinging his hand at him. His son, who had just been slapped in the face, stared at him in shock before surprising him; he turned then ran for the fence that was behind him. His son leaped onto the fence then started to climb; he was nearly to the top when he grabbed and then pulled him down. He placed his son in a headlock afterwards then found himself having to maneuver his footing after he started kicking his legs back.

Eldass inched forward, taking one step at a time, being careful to not scare the younger of his employer's two sons, who seemed very anxious. Young Master Hazaar had managed to back away from the goings-on of his older brother and father, but he hadn't been allowed to leave the semi-circle. For the last five minutes, the youngster's head was constantly turning; he was constantly looking from his brother, who was now thrashing about, to his father, who was trying his best to be both gentle, yet firm, in keeping the youngster that he had a-hold of under control. He didn't need to be told to head in to take the younger of his employer's two sons out of the area; he knew by instinct that it was way past time for Hazaar to be removed from the area.

Too much had gone on. Young Master Lhaklar had created a bit of chaos and he had come very close to hurting his brother more than once while creating that chaos. It was best to remove the younger boy from the area, so he wouldn't be hurt anymore than he was. His employer saw his progress—so did Young Master Lhaklar, who was now lunging in his direction—but, due to his need in keeping Young Master Lhaklar subdued and under control, he couldn't usher out any orders or take in his environment.

His employer's secondborn son turned to look at him when he was four feet from him. His wrap-around, deep purple eyes went wide for a second before going back to their original size. He took a step towards him before going back, towards the fence. He thought nothing of this; with all the chaos that his employer's oldest-born son was creating, he expected for the youngster to second-guess his actions and decisions. He jumped in the direction that his employer's young son went in then he held his arms out. He made a sort of net with his arms as he closed in on the youngster. Young Master Hazaar leaped out of his way twice more before he managed to grab him by the wrist; it was just his luck that, after he laid hand on the youngster that needed to be removed from the area, a series of gunshots were heard.

"Son!" TazirVile shrieked after a bullet narrowly missed Hazaar's hand. Eldass howled then turned to face the one that shot him; his wrist, from which the bullet had entered, was bleeding quite profusely.

The first bullet went through the wrist of the white-haired Goblin that grabbed Hazaar by the wrist while the second and third bullets missed their intended targets by a mile. He aimed and fired three more times—these firings hit their intended targets and they also made a bunch of the squat-sized creatures that made up the semi-circle, that was keeping Lhaklar and Hazaar trapped against the fence, mad.

A squirt of yellow-colored blood came out from the one creature that he shot in the shoulder; the other Troll-like creature that he shot had its leg blown out from under it. What made the Troll-like creatures mad was the bullet that went through the one that had Lhaklar in a headlock; the guy pulled forward at the last second so, instead of being shot in the neck, he was shot in the center of his right shoulder. Lhaklar took advantage of the mayhem after the grip of the one that had him in a headlock loosened; he twisted himself around, then shoved the guy back, then took off in a dead run. Hazaar, on the other hand, was still not in the clear. He fired twice more at the creatures then took to his heels after the kid jumped over the creature that was behind him; the kid, he was quick to note, had a really bad limp that hindered him from running fully out. His decision to stick by the kid's side was decided after he saw how bad that limp was.

"No! Don't cut across, go around the Chancellery—use the building as cover!" Ajeet said after Hazaar started to run across to where the Swiss Embassy was.

"Lhaklar?" Hazaar came close to stopping—he would have, hadn't Ajeet of shoved him from behind.

"Run, Kid! Don't look back and don't waste your breath in talking!" Ajeet said as he guided Hazaar around the right-side corner of the Chancellery building.

Lhaklar went off towards the TIPI AM KANZLERAMT, a variety theater, that was in a permanent, circus-style tent, that had pre-show dining and a bar with a terrace. While Ajeet didn't know where the youngster was he hoped that he was fine. He and Hazaar ran down Willy-Brandt-Straße, the stretch of road that connected to the bridge that spanned across the Spree river's left side, then they started down the bridge that'd take them to where some buildings were—they were just starting down the bridge when two, crackling red lights flew past them. Ajeet chanced a look behind him—what he saw was enough to make the hair that was on his arms stand on end.

The alien that, a little under a minute ago, had apprehended Lhaklar by putting him in a headlock was turning on the heat behind them. His legs were really going. He was racing them across the bridge, and he wasn't alone either. About eight or so of the Troll-like creatures were spread out behind him—all of them were holding some sort of hand-held weapon in their hands and they were all firing at him and Hazaar.

"What's going on?" Hazaar, who was already huffing and puffing, asked.

"Don't worry about what's going on," Ajeet replied. "Go north after you exit the bridge—use the buildings as a cover."

"Who's beh-behind me?"

"A friend—that's all you need to know right now. Keep running, don't stop."

The kid did as he was told. He ran across the rest of the bridge, then went north, towards the White & Case LLP building. More crackling red lights flew past them as they went towards the building then a type of clear liquid went past—the side of the legal services building started smoking at once, after the clear liquid struck it. When they ran past White & Case LLP Ajeet grabbed and then guided Hazaar to the right; they ran down Bertha-Benz-Straße street then they went across the parking lot that belonged to one of Berlin's top pizza restaurants—the Allermunde - Die Pizzamanufaktur. The civilians that were in the parking lot screamed then ran after they saw their pursuers. The run through the parking lot, which only took five minutes, was hard on Hazaar; Ajeet felt for the kid after a while so, instead of keeping the kid running, he grabbed him up from behind.

"Put me down!"

When the darkly tanned set of arms settled around his middle, Hazaar wasted no time in thrashing. After his feet touched the ground, he turned around; one look was enough to tell him to both turn around and keep running.

He had only met Ajeet Ballal, the little Indian-German man that was running behind him, once. Most of the time, the man spoke to his mother and, most of the time, their conversations were both long and were done on the phone. The man seemed of the friendly sort; he seemed polite and he also seemed to want to become friends with his mother and family. Lhaklar knew a little more on the man than he—the man actually helped in rescuing his brother from their father in early November; he owed the man his thanks for that because, if he didn't help his brother in November, his brother wouldn't be living in the same house as he.

Ajeet Ballal was the Chief of the Staff of the Federal Armed Forces; he was a very important man and he did seem to dress for the part well. The man was wearing camo—shirt, pants, his belt was dark green, and his shoes were a nicely polished black. His mother claimed that the man was in his late-fifties; Mr. Ballal's nearly white hair, which was set in a military undercut, was standing on-end on his head. The hair that was on Mr. Ballal's arms—which were very nicely muscled—was also standing on-end; the man stood just five foot, five and a half inches. With his hair standing on-end like it was he looked a little bit taller.

What got him going was his father, who was running like a bat out of hell, and who had a line of Goblins, all of whom had laser pistols in-hand, streaming behind him. His father looked furious! While there was a bleeding wound to the middle of his father's right shoulder, it didn't look to be fazing or slowing him down any. He had only to see his father—and the line of Goblins that were streamed out behind him—to be convinced of needing to run and run fast. He didn't want to tangle with any of the people that were pursuing him and Mr. Ballal.

His hip was killing him! The faster he tried to go the more pain he felt, but he knew that to stop or slow down would be sure capture of him and, maybe, the sure death of his running companion; there was a white tent-like building in front of him, he was debating on going to it when he saw the large building that was across the street. He raced across the parking lot; Ajeet yelled after three cars came close to hitting him after he started crossing the street. To avoid being hit by any cars he shot his left arm out; a red sedan, that had a sunroof, stopped then slid to the side suddenly, the vehicle that was behind it did the same thing while the vehicle that was behind that one nearly nose-dived into the asphalt. Tires squealed behind them vehicles; a traffic jam formed behind the three vehicles that he used his Telekinesis on. With the road clear of traffic, he ran on. He used his Telekinesis one more time to open the doors that were in front of the building that he was running towards. He ran into the building, with Ajeet hot on his heels. The doors that he used his Telekinesis on slammed shut behind them a second later.

"What is this place?" he asked after going around the first corner that he came upon.

"The Berlin Bahnof Einkaufszentrum." Ajeet replied. He pushed Hazaar along before stopping and then turning around. The sound of glass breaking behind them was nearly deafening! "Shit! Run then pick a store to hide in—quick!"

Up to the third World War, which was waged in the early twenty-first century, the Berlin Bahnof Einkaufszentrum was a normal train station equipped with a handful of small venues for train wary travelers. The trains rolled in, the passengers got out, then they shopped before either boarding another train or hailing a taxi. The Berlin Bahnof Einkaufszentrum, which went by the name of the Berlin Hbf (S-bahn) back then, had nearly been destroyed by the war; after major reconstruction and remodeling, it was turned from a normal, everyday train station to a sort of mall. The mall had grown over the years; just about every store known to man was in the building now.

He and Hazaar passed by the Domino's restaurant, which had been in the building forever, then they went by two shoe stores and then a perfume retailer before going around another corner. They ran down two small flights of stairs then made a left turn into a restaurant that was called Kamps. After entering the store, they went to the far back; Ajeet grabbed and then threw his companion behind the first counter that they came upon before turning his attention towards the restaurant's patrons and the three employees that were looking at him.

"Go by your business—act as if we're not here." he said. "We're being followed—chased—by a group of aliens that managed to get into the shields. Keep things to a low—don't attract any attent—"

"Search the building," a gravelly-voiced echo channeled down the hallways and corridors. It was loud enough for all to hear. "Find and bring me my son—dispose of the interloper with him."

"Shit!"

"You heard the man—go by your meals. Forget that they're here." one of the restaurant employees said. Even though the man seemed helpful, there was a clear hint of nervousness in his voice.

They sat on the other side of the counter for a long time before the signal was given for them to run again—one of the Troll-like creatures just barged into the restaurant. He just ran right on in. All of the restaurant's patrons and employees ran, screaming for their lives. Ajeet and Hazaar joined them; they dodged past the creature—who shot at Ajeet twice—then they ran back up the small flights of stairs. Ajeet guided Hazaar down the hallway that ran off the one that the small flight of stairs came from, then he pushed the youngster into another restaurant. The two of them yelled then turned and fled from the restaurant a few seconds later—one of the Troll-like creatures was in the restaurant when they went in. They practically ran into the creature, who was too stunned to raise his weapon, much less fire at them.

Ajeet lost count of how many times he was shot at; one of the Troll-like creatures had come close to blasting one of his ears off after they exited the one restaurant that they quickly left after discovering that one of the Troll-like creatures was in it. A crackling red light came close to hitting his leg after they narrowly escaped another of the creatures in another store and the buckle that was on his belt had actually deflected a normal bullet after he and Hazaar came out of a shoe depot. After spending fifteen minutes in the mall, running into this restaurant or retail store, Ajeet decided that it was time to find some other place that was safer for them to hide-out in.

The Berlin Bahnof Einkaufszentrum was a big building but, with all the Troll-like creatures running amok in it, it was just unsafe for them to be in it. Ajeet led Hazaar to the train tracks that ran through the building; their run down the tracks wasn't marred by anyone or anything for a few minutes. They were allowed to slow down for a little while before finding themselves having to race for their lives again. TazirVile Surfeit had come out of nowhere; he just jumped onto the train tracks then started running after them. Ajeet's heart was nearly in his throat; he was breathing hard and it seemed that every vein in his body was pulsating. He was terrified. Utterly terrified, and he didn't know what to do.

"Mr. Ballal?"

"Keep running along the tracks!" Ajeet yelled. As he ran along, he checked the magazine that was in his gun. The SIG Sauer P226 automatic, that he had in his hand, had a magazine that'd hold just ten rounds in it; he fired the gun ten times, so all of them rounds were spent. He discharged the magazine then slid in a fresh one quickly.

The kid tripped. He went to his knees for only a second before bouncing up and then running on; Ajeet ran behind him for a short while before pulling alongside him. Three clear blobs of liquid splashed the tracks behind him; when he looked back, he saw that the tracks were melting—as if the liquid that splashed them was acid! That scared him more—if what was being fired at him was acid then he was in dire trouble. Acid made things melt; he'd be tap-dancing in no time if that liquid touched his flesh.

Hazaar leaped over the one rail that the trains ran on; he became disoriented after leaving the dimly lit corridor that he and Ajeet were running down a few seconds later. He tripped twice; the skin on his knees was scraped away on the second tripping. After tripping for the second time, he decided to slow down. He shook his head, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the afternoon sunlight that he had just run into, then he felt a burning sensation on the back of his right heel. He shook his foot twice while he ran then, when the burning sensation continued, he looked back and then down.

"My shoe!" he shouted. The heel of his shoe, along with the heel of his sock, was missing. There was a trail of smoke coming up from both so he automatically knew that his father had used his Acidic powers on him in an attempt to slow him up.

"Your shoe and the back of my shirt, Kid." Ajeet said. The chuckle that came from the man made Hazaar want to smile. When Hazaar chanced a look at the man's backside he came close to laughing—the back of Ajeet's camo-colored shirt was missing; the man's darkly tanned back was exposed to the elements.

"Man! He got you good!" Hazaar said as they started running across the tracks that ran across the Spree river.

"He did and let me tell ya something—I thought it'd burn more than it did." Ajeet said back. "Burned a little, but not much to put in a squawk for."

The run across the train tracks was hard on all of them. Ajeet tripped. He slid a short ways before getting to his feet and then running again. Hazaar stumbled; the skin, that was on his right knee, was scraped even more away after he went down, then he managed to get up and run on. TazirVile fared a little better than they did; he stumbled over the track's one rail before correcting himself. Hazaar's chest burned just as much as his hip and ankle did after they reached the other side of the Spree river; he had to fight for every step that he took and he also found himself having to fight to keep looking forward. There was an odd-looking, green-colored Eagle flying just a few feet to his left; the bird was beautiful and he liked the peaceful feeling that it gave him. He found himself looking more at the bird than what was going on in front of him. That nearly cost him his life. Twice.

The train tracks ran over the street, so they had to leap to get down to the parking lot that belonged to the Deutsches Rheuma-Forschungszentrum; Hazaar came close to falling face-first to the concrete but, at the last second, he righted his balance. After their feet touched the surface of the parking lot, they shot across to the Deutsches Rheuma-Forschungszentrum building—which belonged to the university hospital that dominated the entire block. They ran around the side of the building then they shot across Virchowweg street; after they crossed the street, they ran around to the back of the Klinik für Psychiatrie und Psychotherapie building. Hazaar, nearing his running limit, collapsed beside a dumpster while Ajeet ran on before sliding to a stop.

"Shit! Trapped and we're just about at our limit." Ajeet thought.

Or, nearly so. The university medical facility had long since purchased the area; a street use to run between the Klinik für Psychiatrie und Psychotherapie and the Berlin University of Medicine. Sauerbruchweg was converted to lawn and the university was connected to the clinic some hundred to two hundred years ago. There were dumpsters lining the side of the clinic that they were on; the lawn was nicely tended, green in color, and it had no patches of weeds on it. There was just one opening on the partition that connected the university and the clinic; janitors usually used it to take trash out from the two buildings. The partition that connected the two buildings seemed to be pretty far away; they stopped running a little under half of the distance before reaching the middle of the two buildings.

His back wasn't really hurting him; being splashed by the liquid that their pursuer was throwing at them wasn't that bad. He was lacking a layer of skin on his back; nothing more, nothing less, and, thankfully, he wasn't bleeding or suffering any nerve-like pains that'd make running nearly impossible to do. He checked his pistol—which he hadn't used during the entire run from the Berlin Bahnof Einkaufszentrum—then he went across the lawn to where there were some vending machines. He slipped a fifty euro coin into the first machine that he reached then he punched in the number that went with the bottled water image that was on the side of the machine. Two bottles of water slipped out of the machine a second later, he grabbed them up then went back to Hazaar, who was still collapsed beside the clinic's dumpster.

"Keep yourself hydrated—we're doing fine." Ajeet said as he gave one of the water bottles to Hazaar.

"Where'd he go? He was behind us when we started running around that one building." Hazaar sounded a bit stressed; he opened his water bottle shakily, then practically spilled half of the water that was in it on himself afterwards.

"Calm down," Ajeet said. He opened his bottle of water normally then drank a quarter of it before placing the cap back on. "I'm not sure. We lost him after we rounded the Rheumatism research building."

Hazaar calmed down slowly; he took the shoe, and then the sock, that was lacking its heels off then, after a moment's consideration, he took his intact shoe and sock off. Ajeet thought that this was a good idea—removing the items that could possibly slow him up if he had to run again. A shoe that had no heel could slip. Could make one trip or could make one be slow when they needed to be fast. His backless shirt wasn't really preventing him from running so he kept it on; the cool air that was hitting his exposed back felt good. They remained behind the clinic for ten minutes, doing nothing but regaining their breaths and their sanities, before Ajeet decided to grab the cellular phone—which was perfectly and surprisingly intact—that was in his back left pants pocket.

"Hello?... Mrs. Raskop?... It's Ajeet Ballal. Where's the president, I need to speak with him." he said after dialing the number for Stefan's office. Instead of getting the president, he got his secretary. "He's where?... well, I need to speak with h—... Mrs... Mrs. Raskop, I understand that it's is his lunch-hour but this is rather important... M—... Mrs. Raskop—pardon me, I don't know how much longer I have available to speak—but I and one of the Irene boys have been chased for over five miles in the last half-hour by invaders who've been able to penetrate the shield that's around this city. I need to speak with the president and now—Code Five situation happening; I'm sure he'll understand and accept the reason for why his lunch is being disturbed."

It was a short, five minute wait for the president to pick up the phone; while he waited, he finished the rest of the water that was in his water bottle before deciding to walk around in circles. It was best for one to move around after having a rigorous work-out—it kept the blood flowing, the muscles oxygenated, and it also helped to prevent stiffness from settling in. He tried to get the kid to walk around a little. Hazaar only stood up; he refused to walk or move around.

He wasted no time in telling the president what all transgressed between he, Hazaar, and the aliens and Troll-like creatures after the man picked the phone up. While his words didn't fall over one another he did speak quickly and somewhat clearly; after relaying all that happened in the chase, he went quiet. He listened as his country's president told him to get Hazaar to the roof of the Bundesministerium für Bildung und Forschung— which, in translation, meant the Federal Ministry of Education and Research— quickly before hanging up. He was in the process of closing his phone when he noticed two things that set the stage for what he'd later call The Chase Through Northern Berlin, Part Two.

The first thing was an animal and an odd one at that. The Golden Eagle was Germany's state bird; it was a protected species and it was treated as an honor to see one. The bird that he saw, which was perched atop the university building, looked like a Golden Eagle, but it was very oddly colored. It was green. A bright green—even the avian's eyes were green! The second thing that he saw was what got him and Hazaar running again; neither of them had expected for the creature to come strolling around the partition that joined the university with the clinic.

The alien was dark blue in color. It wore some sort of monocle over its left eye and it was very casually dressed—a white, tucked in, long sleeve, button down shirt, which a chocolate brown vest was worn over, brown formal pants, and Italian, brown leather shoes that shone brilliantly under the sun's rays; that was what the alien was wearing. After seeing the alien, he acted; he dropped his cellular phone—which would be picked up by one of the clinic's janitors a few hours later—then he rushed at the creature, who met him head-on.

"Jeez—these thing must be resilient!" he thought, after realizing that the alien that he was fighting was the first one that he and Stefan had shot at in November—he didn't remember who it was that shot the creature that he was fighting but he knew that it fell rather heavily after a bullet went into its leg.

He and the alien swung fists for nearly two minutes before he turned tail—he ran towards Hazaar, then grabbed him by the arm, then had him follow him as he ran a wide berth around the alien. They ran out of the opening that was in the partition that connected the university with the clinic at the same time. The dark blue-skinned alien gave chance immediately; there were times when he came within half an inch of them and there were times where they were three to four feet in front of him. They ran around to the front of the clinic, then they shot across to Charitéplatz street—which, thankfully, was empty of any and all traffic. Traffic was light on the street that they ran down next; they weaved in and out of the few cars that were driving slowly down Charitestraße then they encountered a problem after they started down the street that came off Charitestraße.

Reinhardtstraße was traffic-congested. It was either bumper-to-bumper traffic or motorists were speeding along... going ten or fifteen over the speed limit.

"Hazaar!" the alien that was chasing them yelled.

"Watch out, Kid!" Ajeet yelled.

He saw the vehicle and, while he knew that he should watch his guard, and slow down to avoid being hit, he also knew that if he did the latter he'd be caught. He didn't know where his grandfather had come from—up to recently, it had only been his father and a bunch of Goblins that were in the shield; Granddad Cheshire hadn't been with them, so he presumed that he wasn't in the shield to begin with.

There were two cars coming towards him; they were speeding along, paying no attention to what was running out in the road. He reacted to their speeding towards him by simply pushing his arms out and then to the side. The two cars sped around him then came to a screeching stop after coming in contact with the side of a building; the cars that already passed him did the same thing. A pile-up of vehicles happened; they piled up against the sides of the buildings that were on either side of the road or they piled up on one another. The motorists started yelling at once; Ajeet asked _what the fuck just happened_ while Granddad Cheshire said _good job, Hazaar_ behind him.

"Where to?" Hazaar asked after they reached the train tracks that ran across Reinhardtstraße.

"Down the tracks—to Bundespressekonferenz e.V." Ajeet yelled back.

"The what?"

"The glass-like building across the tracks."

There was only one building that looked glass-made; he went to it and he tried his best to be fast while doing so. His attempt in being fast was marred by his hip, which was really starting to get to him. The short break that he was allowed to have had only helped him a little; he was still winded and his leg still hurt him. It felt like his chest was set ablaze; each breath that he took hurt. His throat was sticky; the water that he drank earlier was zapped out of his system quickly.

He stumbled down the tracks twice, then dropped to his knees for a second before getting to his feet again; his grandfather closed the gap between he and his companion quickly. Granddad Cheshire was fresher. He hadn't been put through a run previously, so he had a lot more lung and leg-power to go—he was out-lasting them and it looked like he was going to run them down and, in fact, he did.

They were right in front of the steps, that ran up to the Bundespressekonferenz e.V corporate office building, when his grandfather grabbed Ajeet from behind. His grandfather grabbed the man then twirled him around; a furious fight ensued. His grandfather threw four punches to Ajeet's two; when Mr. Ballal fell to his knees he found himself being picked up and then attacked via fists again. Mr. Ballal's darkly-tanned face went from being darkly-tanned to bloody in seconds; he spat blood twice before falling back against the business's steps. Hazaar took two steps towards the pair before stopping; the oddly colored, Green Eagle flew over his grandfather once before swooping down. The Eagle pecked his grandfather on the head before grabbing the gold-colored chain that was connected to the monocle that his grandfather wore over his photo-sensitive left eye. His grandfather's hands flew up, towards the bird, at the same time that Ajeet ripped his pistol out from its holster—Ajeet aimed and then fired; Hazaar watched in stunned disbelief as his grandfather fell to his knees, then to his side. A circle of green-blue formed over the center of his grandfather's ribs; it spread quickly, going down the entire right side of his grandfather's shirt then on down to the top of his pants. The green-colored bird flew off; the goggled monocle, that it ripped from his grandfather's face, dangled from its beak almost like a trophy.

"Come on," Ajeet got up then grabbed Hazaar by the elbow. He pulled him up the rest of the steps then led him into the corporate office.

"You see that Eagle?" Hazaar asked as they ran across the lobby to the elevator.

"Yes—I'll probably need therapy after this one, Kid." Ajeet said back. "Aliens, Trolls, Green-colored Eagles... I'm betting that I'll be thrown in a padded room in less than ten minutes, Kid."

The ride in the elevator was pleasant; they enjoyed the cool, refreshing air that was pumping through the ducts that were built into the machine's sides and they also enjoyed the break that the ride provided them with. The ride to the building's top level was a long one; when the doors of the car opened, they stepped out then walked towards the flight of stairs that ran up to the roof. They took the stairs slowly. There was a door that had a plaque on it that said ROOF at the top of the stairs; Ajeet had just placed his hand around its knob when the characteristic sound of a helicopter started being heard.

"Mr. Ballal?" Hazaar nearly had to yell because of the helicopter, which seemed to be very close to them.

"Come on!" Ajeet said as he threw the door open.

The communicator that his stepfather had used to contact him with had shown a location south of him; he took four steps back after teleporting to the location before running forward. His stepfather, Cheshire Keueitt Ubalki, was in a seated position, but his shirt was very blood-stained. A quick examination showed that the man had sustained a bullet wound to the right side of his torso. His ribs were bleeding; a bullet had obviously hit his ribs and then traveled along his rib cage before exiting his back.

Cheshire was quite demanding that he let him in on chasing Hazaar down; after a minute of thinking the demand over, he agreed to let him aid in bringing Hazaar in. An order to one of his military Goblins was made; Cheshire was let into the shield then he went to work in looking for his son right away. He actually radioed the message that he found two of his sons, but lost one and was chasing the other, while in the mall-type train station building; his mother was ecstatic, while his stepfather was concerned. The demand of his letting him join the chase was made right after he relayed the message of what happened. If his foot hadn't gotten caught on the single rail that was on the train tracks, he'd of been able to keep up with his son and the human that was with his son; he was forced to run through the area after losing the whereabouts of his son after his shoe was freed from the rail. He had just gotten through walking around a school-type building when his stepfather's call came in.

"Cheshire," TazirVile said. Cheshire waved his hand at him, then pointed at the building that he was seated in front of.

"Forget about me, it's not the first time I've been shot—nothing to be concerned about." Cheshire, who was breathing heavily, said. "They went into that building—if you're fast, you can catch up with them."

He called his Goblins over; all but one remained in the shields. He sent Eldass back to his ship; the Goblin, who managed to dodge all of them flying bullets in early-November, hadn't been able to dodge the bullet that the darkly-tanned man had fired at him. Mr. Zultoa was probably now being treated for his gunshot wound; it was a nasty one and it'd probably make him not be able to feel anything in his right hand for a little while. His militia Goblins appeared at once; two of them went to work in stabilizing his stepfather—per request of his, of course—while the others formed a tight ring around him. His stepfather rambled on about what happened; the fight with the darkly-tanned man, the chase through the streets, Hazaar using his Telekinetic abilities to prevent being hit by speeding cars, then the second fight that resulted in his being shot.

One of his Goblins had just teleported his stepfather out of the area when the distant-sounding, resonant thumping sound started getting louder. He automatically turned his head up; his eyes went wide when he saw the vessel that he routinely called a "Whirlybird" flying in closer then his eyes became squinted after he saw the vessel hovering over the building that he was standing in front of. A rope ladder was thrown from the open side of the Whirlybird right in front of him; he silently watched as the darkly-tanned human went up the ladder, then he reacted after he saw his son climbing the ladder next.

"Phloowa!" he remembered shouting after his son was born and then plopped on his wife's chest. "PhloowaVile Epa Surfeit!"

He crouched low—so low that his bottom came within a half inch of the asphalt—then he sprang up like a grasshopper with the memory of his secondborn son being born fresh on his mind. He added a burst of flames to his jump at the last second while remembering the fact that it was his grandfather who noticed something amiss on his newborn son; when his feet touched the side of the building, that he had only just been standing in front of, he started using his Time Warp ability. The glass exterior of the building exploded at the same time that he remembered handing the scissors, that he was just given to use on cutting the cord that was connected to his young son so long ago, back to the maid that gave them to him.

Hazaar was said to be a girl all throughout his wife's pregnancy. After his hand slipped, and what he and his wife had thought was his son's genitalia was exposed, during the routine ultra-sound, Hazaar was referred as a Phloowa—a girl, instead of a boy. The name was changed after his son was born—names such as Noftagan, Epajik, Tureer, Zeeuh, and Gragsne were thought of and suggested before the name of Hazaar was picked. His father, who was currently dealing with a badly broken back on Gamma Vile, was the one to give his wife the incentive to give their newborn son that name. He said the word Hoozah; his wife modified it some so that it'd become Hazaar, then he said the name Tlair. HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit—it had a nice ring to it, and it wasn't an normal type of name. In fact, there was no other being in the Universe who had such a name.

He used his Time Warp to jump-appear from one building to the next; glass shattered or exploded on each of the buildings that he jumped from. When he was within reach of the rope ladder, that was still hanging out from open side of the helicopter, he held his hand out. He made a fist out of his hand after reaching the ladder then he started climbing—the memories of his son, who was removed from his house a hundred years after he was born, clicked away in his mind as he climbed the ladder.

"I'm surprised—after the ordeal he just went through, there isn't a mark on him." Stefan said, after checking Hazaar over for injuries.

"He's lucky. After what we just went through, we both are." Ajeet, who was sitting on one of the four cot-like chairs that lined the backside of the Westland Puma HC Mk.1 helicopter that they were in, said. "There was no way we could get to the roof of the Bundesministerium für Bildung und Forschung—another blasted alien appeared. The fucker chased us all the way to the Bundespressekonferenz building."

Hazaar was more concerned over his lunch being disturbed than with the situation that he was just forced to endure. The first thing that he asked, after climbing into the helicopter, was _was you able to finish your lunch before hopping on-board_ ; he came close to laughing at that question. His lunch being disturbed was the last thing on his mind.

He did his best to get to the area that he requested Ajeet to take his young friend to after word reached him on the situation; while having to deal with Trolls and aliens wasn't on his agenda for the day he wasn't at all angered or annoyed over having to rescue them. A quick call to the Tempelhof Central Airport was made after Ajeet told him about the situation; a Westland Puma HC Mk. 1 helicopter met him on the roof of the Chancellery about ten minutes later. When the pilot wasn't able to locate Mr. Ballal or Hazaar on the roof of the Bundesministerium für Bildung und Forschung, he flew around; a quick scouting of the area happened before they found them on the roof of the nearby Bundespressekonferenz e.V building. Landing the helicopter was out of the question; after the rope ladder was thrown down, Ajeet climbed up. Hazaar was hot on his heels.

"Let's get you home—to your mutter." Stefan said. He gestured for Hazaar to sit next to Ajeet then he turned to the pilot. "Hans, get us to the air—"

The pilot, a young buck named Hans Seiderman, came close to losing control of the helicopter. He hadn't expected for another to get into the helicopter and he had definitely not expected for the one who climbed into the helicopter to be so hostile. The alien, who had light blue skin and large, bright silver, oval-shaped eyes, leaped into the helicopter then ran in the direction of the youngster that was heading towards the vacant seats that were on the right side of the vehicle. Ajeet removed his pistol then rushed forward; he was promptly knocked out by a good left-hook a second later. Stefan grabbed the pistol that flew out of Ajeet's hand then lunged towards Hazaar, who had become frozen in place. Stefan grabbed Hazaar by the shoulders, then held the weapon at the alien, who showed no regard towards the weapon at all. A stiff jab from the alien sent the president flying in the direction of the helicopter's tail; Hazaar went with him. A loud bong was heard a second later. Hans presumed that either the kid or Stefan had hit something hard. Hans was in the process of taking his own military issue pistol out from its holster when the alien turned its attention towards him.

"If you value your life, you'll keep this bird in the air!" the alien snarled at him.

Hans decided to not fire his weapon; he held his hands up for just a second, to show that he had nothing in them, then he placed them back on the helicopter's cyclic stick and collective throttle. The alien nodded its head then went towards the vehicle's back—Hans watched from the little mirror that was hanging from the cockpit's roof as the alien started searching the vehicle's back. The creature threw certain things to the side; it looked like it was looking for something or, quite possibly, someone. Hans, on instinct, steered the helicopter that he was driving to the right, then flew it to the north. Towards the shield that was over the town of Hohen Neuendorf, that was to the north-west of Berlin.

"Hazaar?" the alien said as Hans upped the speed of the helicopter, going from twenty-five miles an hour to fifty, then slowly increasing it to seventy-five, then to a hundred. "Hazaar? Baby? Hazaar?"

TazirVile knew that the vessel that he was in was being driven off to some unknown location but, at the moment, he was too enthused in trying to retrieve his son. The man who was holding his son hostage was in the same part of the vehicle as he—he didn't care if he came across him or not; right now, his only concern was in finding and then retrieving his son, who he accidentally hit.

He threw four, red-colored canisters, that housed a liquid that he thought was gasoline, to the side, then he grabbed and then threw two folding chairs to the side. His eyes searched the back of the vessel frantically; not missing an inch, trying to see everything at once. He had just tossed the fifth canister of liquid to the side when he saw a pair of legs, that were clothed in dark blue pant legs. He went to the pair of legs quickly. There were a few items on the pair of legs; he quickly discarded them before dropping nearly out of view after seeing that they belonged to his son.

The left side of his son's head was bleeding—the wound wasn't deep; it was no more than a scratch, which was a relief to him. After finding his son, he dug him out from the items that fell on him. After digging his son out from under all the stuff that was on him—blankets, medical containers, ammunition, weapons, folding chairs and empty, semi-full, and full canisters of fluid, and the such—he picked him up. He held him close before standing up; he carried Hazaar to the front of the helicopter then turned towards the vessel's pilot, who was steadily driving the vehicle far from the location that he was hovering over a minute or so ago.

"Land!" he said strongly.

"I can't, sir!" the pilot, who looked rather young, said back.

"If you know what's good for you you'll do as I tell you in landing this bird and now!"

"I can't just land her, sir! There's certain protocols that I—"

"Get this thing near the roof of a building then! Don't try anything funny now—I wield enough power to blast you and this vessel to the next bloody millennium." he warned the pilot, who's face went a degree paler at his words.

There were no flat-roofed buildings near them, so Hans was forced to fly around for a bit. As he searched for a building that suited his unwanted passenger's request, he noticed movement in the back of the vehicle. He held his breath as his country's president stood and then rushed forward. His country's president was heavier bodied than the alien—Hans automatically knew what was going to happen before it actually happened.

The president, who, prior to becoming Germany's president, spent twenty years as an Air Force Pilot, had taken time out to strap a harness around himself after regaining consciousness. The cord that was trailing out from the harness's back was thick. Strong. Durable. It'd suit the man well. The president rushed forward after standing up. The alien had no time to react; he howled in surprise then he, and the youngster that he was holding, flew out of the helicopter. Hans looked down after the three fell from his helicopter; he saw the alien, who was tumbling frantically as he fell down to Earth, first, then he saw his country's president next.

At first, he didn't see the kid. He went back and forth—from watching the alien fall down to Earth to searching for the kid that the alien was holding. After thirty seconds of searching he found him; President Leinart had the kid by the waist of his dark blue pants. The kid looked to be half-conscious, which was good. Hans drove the helicopter north, he glanced back twice to see his now disposed-of passenger fall down to Earth before concentrating his energies on driving the craft forward. The pink hue of the shield that surrounded the city of Berlin was just starting to come in when he heard a loud scream. Ajeet rushed over to the open side of the helicopter right when the scream was heard; Hans saw, from the corner of his eye, the man grab the cord that was connected to the back of the vest that President Leinart was wearing.

 _"Taaaaaazzzzzyyyyy!"_

His mother's scream was so loud that it nearly masked the sound of his landing. The human that rushed at him—that knocked him and his son out of the whirlybird—had come out of nowhere. He hadn't expected for any of the humans that were in the vessel to attack him and he had definitely not expected for one of the humans that he knocked out to come to so quickly. As he tumbled through air, going head over heels, he remembered hearing his mother's request of his letting her into the shield that was around the city through his communicator earlier. He was so preoccupied with climbing the ladder, and then disposing the humans, and then finding his son, that he hadn't been able to answer her call. She was still on the other side of the shield, which, at the moment, he was grateful for. He didn't want her to be involved in what was going on. He didn't want her to get hurt and he didn't want her to slow him down either.

While he wasn't biased on sex, he did think that women had no place or right to be involved in missions like the one that he and his young son were currently involved in.

He slid quite a ways after striking the asphalt; the flesh on his left arm and thigh was scraped away after impact. He groaned painfully then went still. He became stunned; the few, precious seconds that he had in getting up and then back in with trying to reclaim his son as his were taken up by his trying to regain his senses and his breath. His military Goblins, sixteen in all, circled him at once; they became like Pigeons. Pecking at him. Checking him for injuries. Asking if he was okay. He sped his recovery by simply sitting up then, after thirty seconds went by, he stood up. He wobbled in place for ten seconds before stumbling forward; his eyes locked on his son, who was dangling from the arm of the human who dared to knock them out from the flying machine that was currently being driven from him. After he saw his son move he got in position. He took two walking steps forward then bolted; his arms swung back, a small ball of acid formed in his hands while he ran. His Goblins ran on after him—some begged him to stop, others said nothing at all.

His mother screamed for him to stop. To not hurt himself. To save his strength. He twirled twice, after the small acid ball grew in size, going from the size of a small golf ball to the size of a large beach ball, then he threw his arms forward. The Acid Bomb that he just released flew through the air quickly; it exploded in a brilliant glare of yellow and red after it slammed into the tail portion of the helicopter a few seconds later.

"What the hell was that?" Stefan yelled.

"Acid Bomb! Mr. Leinart—my father shot an Acid Bomb at us!" Hazaar yelled back.

"Get us as close to the ground as you can!" Ajeet yelled at the pilot.

"I can't! I have no maneuverability! No rotors—I have no control!" Hans Seiderman yelled back.

Ajeet repelled down the cord at the same time that the pilot abandoned the cockpit. Hazaar grabbed Stefan by the foot at the same time that the cord severed from the vessel; Hans barely had time to grab the end of the cord before it disappeared out of the vehicle. The helicopter fishtailed in the air for all of four seconds before crashing—right into the shield that it was close to.

Stefan landed hard. He bounced twice, then did a series of somersaults, before coming to a rest against the trunk of a fallen tree. Ajeet landed in a patch of grass; the grass scraped the flesh of his chin and forehead back. Hans Seiderman landed on his side, he slid a ways before coming to a stop near a gravel path. Hazaar landed nearly fifty yards away; the thorny bushes that he landed in cushioned his fall nicely. Stefan had a bird's eye view of the shield exploding in three places. The shield's base went up in a plume of red, while the middle and top exploded in a brilliant glow of pink, orange, and yellow. Terror struck deep within his heart after the shield dissipated. It just left. Disappeared. One second there, the next gone.

"Oh no!" he yelled as he got to his feet. "The shield! Master Vile!"

"Fuck the shield!" Ajeet, who was twenty yards away, yelled. "We all here? Stefan—I see you. Where's the kid? The pilot?"

It took them a little while to regroup, and then figure out the area that they crashed-landed at. Tegeler Forst was an old park. The documents only went back but so far on it; the earliest known record of the park was dated for July 1985. The section of the park that they crash-landed at was next to the Tegeler sea; wild pigs and other game animals gave them a casual glance or two as they worked their situation out. Hazaar, who was now sporting a busted bottom lip, wished that things could of been different, because the wild game gave him the sudden want to hunt. If his father wasn't chasing him, and his now-three companions, he'd be hunting. He might of brought down a boar or a deer or something for his family. A mother boar and her four piglets ambled by, while a Red deer doe grazed quietly in the distance. A Moose, that sported a rather impressive set of antlers, looked at the group stupidly for a while before moving on.

Hans Seiderman had the worst wound of the bunch—a badly broken arm, that Ajeet quickly mended. Stefan had a few nicks and cuts to his face, arms, legs, and neck. Ajeet discovered that he had two broken fingers and a deep gash to his inner thigh. Other than his lip being split, Hazaar had a bunch of thorns in him—all of which were removed by Ajeet—and he also had two deep cuts to his left arm and cheek.

Except for the general noting of their injuries, and of the animals around them, they were left alone to do as they wished. The oddly colored, green Eagle was seen perched atop a nearby tree when they started towards the still-present shield, that was around the town of Hennigsdorf, that was in the neighboring state of Brandenburg, that was a mile to a mile and a half away from them. They commented on the bird while on the walk then they snapped their mouths shut, after hearing two feminine voices—one older and seemingly wiser than the other—call out for some person called "Tazzy". Ajeet's already tired muscles went taut after the two feminine voices were joined by the familiar, gravelly-sounding voice of the alien that was obviously still after them. While Hazaar didn't huddle up next to Stefan, he did walk close to him. The youngster's limp had gotten worse. He was having a difficult time walking, so Ajeet automatically knew that running would be next to impossible for him.

"People in camp are going crazy, Tazzy." the one who had the younger-sounding, feminine voice said. "They're all wondering what's going on."

"They'll find out soon enough." the one that the young-sounding, feminine voice had addressed as Tazzy responded.

"Eldass's hand was treated—the wound was bad, but the table fixed it up like new." the one who had the older-sounding, feminine voice said. "He wanted to return to your side—to aid you in retrieving Hazaar. Your brothers had to grab and then hold him down to prevent him from leaving camp."

"Stepper's probably either on his way to Zeta Ren or just now getting down from the table—he could barely walk and he was having a real hard time breathing!" the one who had the younger-sounding, feminine voice said.

"I suspect he's got a broken rib or two—one of the humans that's with Hazaar shot him." Tazzy replied. "There were two wounds on him—the entry and the exit; one on his front with the other on his back."

"I hope that's the only thing ailing him." the female being that had the older-sounding, feminine voice said. She sounded right concerned. "He wasn't able to react to his monocle being removed. He said that an Eagle took it, is that true?"

"Can't clarify on the Eagle—I wasn't there when he was shot, sad to say." Tazzy replied. "The shock from being shot, coupled by the pain that he experienced after being shot, probably over-shadowed the pain from his eye being exposed to the sun."

"You'll probably be bed-ridden for a few days after this." the one who had the younger-sounding voice said. "Look right tired and sore as is."

"All of my aches and pains are worth it." Tazzy said back.

They walked along, being careful with each step. Being careful to not step on a branch or a leaf or anything else that'd give them away. None of them said a thing to one another. The aliens' whereabouts were known; they were talking, and giving their location away while doing so. They hoped to do the opposite. To steal by unnoticed.

The oddly colored Eagle hopped from tree top to tree top as they walked along; Hazaar noticed that it seemed to be watching them—its pretty head was moving, following them as they walked along. The other animals—the boar, the deer, and the moose—had left the area; the Eagle was the only animal in the area. Again, Hazaar felt a sense of comfort fall over him; the bird was a familiar sight, something he saw on several occasions during the chase through northern Berlin, and it also helped him and Mr. Ballal get away by attacking his grandfather.

They traveled for nearly half a mile, going through densely covered forest or heavily overgrown grassland, before being seen. The alien, that Stefan automatically remembered as the one that he shot in October, saw them; she screamed for "Tazzy" before running at them. The older female alien, who had dark blue skin, and who wore a long sleeve, purple dress, charged out from the dense forest a second later. The male alien, the one that Ajeet and Hazaar knew all too well, passed by the two female aliens quickly. He shot wads of liquid, then yellow-colored flaming balls, at their backsides as they ran across the marshland that was in front of the shield that was over the town of Hennigsdorf. One of the fireballs struck Hans on the arm; as he ran along, he patted the flames that spread across his arm out. Another fireball hit Ajeet on his exposed back; he hissed his pain, but refused to slow down or stop. The fireball that hit Stefan on the back of the leg was put out by a splash of water while the fireball that hit Hazaar on the shoulder made him fall to his knees. Stefan grabbed Hazaar by the shoulders after he fell then carried him along. The water behind him splashed; one of the aliens was practically breathing down his neck and he was sure that he'd have to fight physically in a few seconds. He was just bracing himself for the brawl when something amazing, yet totally unexpected, happened.

The Eagle suddenly took flight; it flew up high before swooping in low. Hans turned just in time to see the precise hit of the Eagle's talons against the closer of the three aliens' scalp. The alien howled, then continued chasing them. The Eagle came down twice more. It slashed at the alien's head and shoulders before flying off again. The bird's actions caused the aliens—all three of them—to slow up. Stefan, Ajeet, Hazaar, and Hans Seiderman ran freely for a little while; they were able to slow up some before having to churn up the heat again. The Goblins, all sixteen of them, shot their guns at them twice before dropping their weapons—per request of the light blue alien, who was now dealing with the Eagle that was trying to make-off with the pair of glasses that he was wearing.

Stefan tripped over an above-ground protruding root just before reaching the shield a little under thirty seconds later; he went down hard, while Hazaar went flying towards the shield. Pain roared through Stefan's right ankle as he stood up. He finished his run towards the shield on one foot; he practically collapsed after entering the shield's safety. Ajeet did the same thing, while Hans leaned against a tree. Hazaar crawled into the shield slowly, then turned back to look at what was going on outside of the shield.

"Where's the bird?" Hazaar asked. "Mr. Leinart—the Eagle! Where—"

"Right there," Hans said. He pointed at the bird, which was no longer airborne. The bird had sustained some sort of injury to its wing; it was running along on its legs. Its left wing was being dragged behind it.

"Poor bird," Stefan said. "Always like Eagles; they're courageous."

The Goblins—or Trolls, as Stefan, Ajeet, and Hans called them—arranged themselves before the shield. They were just starting forward when a whistle was sounded behind them. The light blue-skinned alien, who was now sporting some rather nasty wounds to his face and neck, walked up slowly. He gave his head a shake, then said something that none of them understood; the Goblins looked at the shield for a few seconds before nodding their heads. While the Goblins remained by the shield, they didn't go in. The light blue-skinned alien that was the Goblins' leader went to the other two aliens that were standing to the side; the guy spoke to his two companions for a few minutes before nodding his head. While Stefan knew the alien had accepted defeat, had given up the chase, he really wasn't expecting for the alien to act so hostily towards the Eagle that was slowly making its way towards the shield.

"Stupid bird!" the alien growled. Stefan made a noise after the alien sweeped his foot forward. The bird, a unique, yet oddly colored one, was thrown forward after the alien kicked it. It got up after being kicked then resumed its trek to the shield.

"Tazzy!" the dark blue-skinned, female alien, who was wearing the long sleeved, purple dress, exclaimed.

"Persistent bird," Hans said three minutes later, after the bird entered the shield.

"Persistent because it knows that this side of the shield is safe." Ajeet said.

Hazaar got to his feet at the same time that a green glow showered over him and his human companions. Stefan's hazel-colored eyes went wide as the bird grew in size, while Ajeet came close to fainting. Hans stood with his mouth agape. The Goblins and the three aliens that were on the other side of the shield reacted similarly. Stefan's orange-brown hair, which was in desperate need of care, thanks to all the dirt, mud, and sweat that caked it, was swept back by an energized breeze for all of two minutes before settling back against the sides of his face. The light blue-skinned alien's O-shaped mouth dropped in shock as Lhakar vacated the place that he had formerly occupied as a large bird of prey. Lhaklar took two steps forward before collapsing; Hazaar rushed forward at once. He hugged his brother at the same time that their grandmother started chiding their father.

"Long time no see, Bro. Watch the arm and the ass, please. Don't know which one hurts more." Lhaklar said.

"I should of known!" Hazaar exclaimed. "Green! Anything that you transform into is green!"

"Didja think I just up and ran off without wondering or worrying about ya?" Lhaklar asked.

"Where'd you go?" Hazaar asked as he helped his brother to his feet.

"Gave the "Trolls" the slip near the Spree river. I undid the spell that the old man put on me then I turned into a fish—they never knew the difference." Lhaklar replied.

"The Eagle that we've been seeing on and off for the last forty-five minutes was you?" Ajeet asked.

"Yep and let me tell you something—I had a good time with my Bird's Eye View of everything that happened between you four and my famous old man." Lhaklar replied. Hazaar and Stefan chuckled at his words. "My Eagle Vision saw everything—even the nice panties worn by the Berlin ladies. Speaking of which—any of you wanting to hook me up with a good-looking nurse? Tall, with blonde hair and blue or green eyes, please."

"What happened to your arm?" Hans asked. He was having a hard time keeping himself from laughing.

"The old man grabbed it." Lhaklar replied. "Was in the process of trying to take his glasses when he reached up—he just grabbed and then gave it a great big ol' tug."

"Trying to get a souvenir at the last second?" Hazaar asked. He fought the urge to elbow his brother in the ribs.

"Nope—already have one." Lhaklar held the goggled monocle, that had the gold chain on one of its sides, up. "Courtesy of Granddad Cheshire."

"Let's get you two in a vehicle then on the way home—there's a six-hour drive between here and Elchesheim-Illingen." Stefan said as he wrapped his arm around Lhaklar's middle. "Maybe on the way there, we'll stop for a bite to eat, and a "nurse-visit"."

"Sounds good on both to me." Lhaklar said.


	37. Chapter 37

From the Berlin _Berliner Zeitung_ , December 24, 4100 (Page 1)  
Berlin Shield Disappears; Reappears After Six Hours

A collective sigh of relief was heard yesterday after the shield, which was up for over two thousand years, was returned to its former station over the state of Berlin. Civilians that work in or call Berlin home were in for a shock after a helicopter crashed into the side-wall of the shield that was in the northern part of the state. The cause of the helicopter crash is not under investigation, owing to the fact that thousands saw the event happen. Reports claim that a large group of Trolls, led by two, Gray Alien-like beings, infiltrated the shield. The Trolls, and their two, Gray Alien-like leaders, reeked havoc in the capital city for nearly an hour before disappearing; one of the two Gray Alien-like beings is said to be responsible for the shield being brought down.

The shield was returned to its former station at 7:02 p.m.—exactly six hours later. Despite wide-spread panic and fears on further attacks being made, no other, non-Earthly beasts caused further trouble. Martial Law was declared for all of twelve hours; searches for anything abnormal or alien were done, which brought up nothing. Normal, fear-free, living returned at daybreak.

From the Berlin _Berliner Morgenpost_ , December 26, 4100 (Page 2)  
Possible New Species of Eagle Spotted in Berlin

For many, the Golden Eagle is a symbol of courage, strength, perspicacity, and immortality; the bird is seen as the King of the skies and, in morphology, it's noted as a messenger to the Gods. The Golden Eagle has been our country's official bird since January 20, 1950; it has many cousins flying the same skies as it, could it be possible that a new species of as-yet catalogued Eagle has joined them? For some, that is a yes; an odd-looking, but strikingly beautiful bird was seen flying the skies above the capital city three days ago, on the twenty-third of December.

"It was mostly mint-green in color. Very odd—the back of the crown and nape were a lighter green color, while the inner wings and tail were either a light-light green or gray color." a bystander, who saw the bird multiple times, said after being questioned about the bird.

"It didn't look full-grown, but it sure made a mess of them aliens." another bystander who saw the bird said upon being questioned about the bird.

The bird hasn't been seen since the twenty-third of December; a hunter's camera, set-up in the nearby northern Tegeler Forst, recorded it attacking one of the Gray Alien-like beings that's said to be responsible for Berlin's de-shielding. The footage from the camera shows the bird being grabbed by the wing and then thrown to the side; the alien that the bird was attacking was also recorded as kicking the bird a few minutes later. No further footage of the bird exists afterwards; it's presumed that the bird succumbed to the injuries that it sustained in the attack.

"While we mourn for the bird we also hope for another to show up." Anina Troeger, a scientist working at the Humboldt University of Berlin, said.

"It's possible that the bird had algae covering its feathers—the photographs that have surfaced over the last few days show a young bird, so it's possible that it just learned how to fly." Emil Ehrlich, a top scientist with the Humboldt University of Berlin, said on the bird. "It's very likely that the bird either fell into a lake or river during one of its flights or just mis-judged a swoop over a river or lake."

Whatever the case may be on the bird—real or algae-covered—, people are wondering when another will show up. Toys and other such memorabilia are said to be in the making of the bird; the first collection of Green Eagle merchandise will become available for purchase in a month to two months time.

From the Berlin _Berliner Tageszeitung_ , January 7, 4101 (Page 3)  
TV Film Depicting December 23 Berlin Chase Shown

The article from the _Berliner Tageszeitung_ was promptly ripped in half before it was even read. One half of the article was thrown in the wastebasket, that was beside the black wicker chair, that had a cream and black striped pillow on its seat, while the other was crumpled and then thrown into the lit fireplace that was in front of the chair. The article tearer remained in the chair for all of ten minutes before standing; he ran a hand over the row of small horns that he had yet to shave from the sides of his forehead as he went towards the fireplace. Without saying a word, or making a sound, he tossed the other two articles in. He left the room afterwards.

There was a long, horizontal mirror in the hallway that he was now walking down. When he glanced at it, he saw that his face looked very angry which, in all honesty and respect, was exactly how he felt. A window of opportunity had opened up for him in taking over the government station of Germany and it stayed open for a right long time before closing up. Where was he during that finely given opportunity? On Gamma Vile; partying with a friend. Getting shit-faced drunk and indulging in things that his parents would, without a doubt, frown at.

No one told him about the shield over Berlin being taken down. Lynster was sleeping. Glog was in the kitchen, using his free-time to play some stupid card gave. Galong was with his family, and Nygiti was in an undisclosed location—a place that he neither cared to find out or know. Berlin, the capital of Germany, and the main area where Germany's government sat at, was vulnerable to attack from him for all of six hours before a new shield was put up. Just thinking about how close he was to claiming the seat of Germany's government as his made his stomach churn. Instead of piddle farting around, someone should of been keeping tabs on Europe and Eurasia—he could be ruling over Germany by now if Lynster wasn't sleeping or if Glog wasn't playing his stupid card game or if Nygiti wasn't doing what he was doing. Shit, he'd be ruling over Germany if he wasn't at Uecklurn Aomb's place.

"My uncle could of taken over Germany!" he thought angrily as he walked along. "Instead of pursuing that brat of his he could have claimed Germany as his—if he had the balls to, that is."

Thankfully, he had nothing to worry on family competition. No one in his family had any interest in taking Earth over as theirs or in dethroning him. All his family wanted were the four—or, scratch that, five—brats that were running amok and unsupervised in Europe.

He could of done so much with the opportunity that was available to him. Take over the capital of Germany, overthrow and change Germany's government, and dispose of one of the ill-bred brats that his uncle was pursuing. He'd of done it right in front of him uncle—the disposing of the brat would of been quick, then the resulting fight with the brat's sire would of been done just as quickly. He'd of sent his uncle back to his camp badly broken, bruised, and shamed if he knew about the situation that his uncle made in taking the shield over Berlin down. None of that happened. He partied. He got drunk and wasted all while an opportunity in adding territory to his reign was available.

That wasn't going to happen again! Not only had he ordered select, high-ranking members of his military to stand guard near certain areas, that were near the shields, that were over the cities and towns of Europe and Eurasia, but he also gave the order for Lynster, Galong, and Nygiti to keep constant watch of his family's camps. If anything abnormal was seen as happening in any of the camps that were stationed in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve they were to report to him at once.

He went into the small bathroom, that was in the apartment, that he decided to reside in until the White House was more appropriately suited for him. Beside all the damage that his uncle and his damn Goblins did in October, the building was much too cheery and bright for him. He was having it re-done from scratch—an architect from Gamma Vile was already hard at work in re-working the building; no human hands were allowed to rebuild or reconstruct the building. His anger in his missing out on a golden conquering opportunity was nearly cracked in half after he started remembering the petitions that the humans started making—all of their skirts had come up in a bunch after word reached them about his getting an "other-worldly" architect to rebuild the White House from scratch. Four petitions were made and then signed and then sent to him in just two weeks time. They went in the same way that the articles that he read a few minutes ago had—in the fireplace. Burned to a crisp. None were read or acknowledged.

The White House was his building now. He had control of it, had won it by default, so he had all right in rebuilding or reconstructing it.

The cabinet that was under the sink contained a small, black, hand-held bag; he opened the cabinet doors then took it out. He set it beside the sink before opening it. There was nothing abnormal in the bag, just the gear that he used to groom himself with—two canisters of shaving cream; a pair of silver scissors, that were housed in their own grape-and-vine engraved sheath; his toothbrush, and a tube of fresh-mint toothpaste; a bar of pine-scented soap; a small jar of mouthwash; and the most important item of all: his sickle-shaped razor. All of these items he needed to keep his face in tip-top form; the small horns, that were on the sides of his forehead, were annoying. They itched from time to time, they made his appearance look off... and they weren't rooted to anything. They were just growths. Annoying little growths that needed to be gotten rid of. No one in his family knew about his horny growths; they always grew back overnight and he always found himself shaving—or scraping—them off in the morning, like he was about to do now.

He finished his morning routine in five minutes. He applied a good dollop of the soft, fluffy shaving cream to the sides of his forehead then he took the sickle-shaped razor from the bag. No blood was spilt and no pain was felt; he just scraped the horny growths from his head then went on to brushing his teeth. He washed his mouth out with the mouthwash afterwards. A quick shower followed; after stepping out from the shower, he went to the apartment's only room to dress in his usual attire—black pants, black belt, black socks, black shoes, black robe, his shoulder-wraps, and, lastly, his chest-plate. He was just grabbing his gold-colored gloves when his cellular went off; he grumbled as he snatched it up from the burrough that it was lying on.

"What?" he said after seeing that the number calling belonged to Lynster.

"There's activity going on near the cane-shaped ship, sir." Lynster said. "The guy that looks of the Zomo race looks to be leaving his camp—he has three others with him; all male. One looks like an adult while the other looks right young—your brother, Triskull, looks to be going with them."

"Have Nygiti follow them." he said before disconnecting his caller.

It did the same damn thing that it did on its maiden flight. The rotor blades started spinning slowly; it took the thing a full minute before it started "lifting" from the driveway. A low humming sound was heard; it grew louder as the thing gained altitude. A silent gasp escaped him after his two-week old Christmas present dropped back to the driveway. His Christmas present skidded along for all of ten seconds before gaining altitude again. It went up about two feet before dropping again.

Thoughts of his two-week old Christmas present smashing down to the driveway, gears and wheels and rotor blades and engine parts flying everywhere, and he dropping to his knees, fighting the sudden onslaught of tears, flooded his mind as the Avatar-styled, AT-99 Scorpion Gunship 4-Channel remote control combat helicopter dropped, rose, then dipped forward, then rose further up into the sky. This was only the fifth time that he had flown the remote-controlled helicopter; it took a full night for the thing to charge and it always started its flights like this.

The idea of picking a place out for it and then using it as a display in his room was thought of after the third flight; his mother had spent a lot of money on the thing and he liked it, but it was frustrating to fly it. If this wasn't his first remote-control helicopter he'd of done that—he was forcing himself to be patient. He might get the hang of the thing one day, and who said that the thing's bugs might not be worked out in a few more flights.

"Maybe it's a fluke." Lazeer said two nights ago, after he voiced his frustrations over how the thing flew. Everyone was at the table, eating supper, when he decided to speak of his fluey remote control helicopter.

"Was there a manual in the box?" his mother asked.

"Yes—there's nothing in it on whether or not its suppose to fly like that though."

"Give it two more flights. I have the receipt, the thirty-day period isn't yet over." his mother said. "If it continues to give you trouble in them two flights tell me—I'll take it back then exchange it for one that's better-working."

He didn't want a better-working remote-control helicopter. He wanted the one that he currently had to work like it should. Putting the thing together wasn't easy—normally, remote controlled devices were already put-together in the boxes; the helicopter that he was given had only been half put-together. There were so many parts involved in building the thing and, yes, there were a few screws missing in the box. It took him nearly three hours to get the thing built and then it took him nearly a full day to get the thing charged enough to fly; the first flight was nearly a disaster. His new helicopter came close to being destroyed on that first flight thanks to how it flew.

While he wouldn't say it out loud he had felt rather special after unwrapping the helicopter on Christmas morning—he was the only one of his brothers to receive a remote-controlled item. Their mother was fair in her Christmas shopping for them; a total of five gifts per child had come from her and all of them given gifts were awesome. The helicopter that he was trying to get the hang of was just one of those awesome given gifts. Besides the helicopter, he also got a radica Buckmasters Deer Hunter II hand-held electronic LCD game that was shaped like a rifle, a train model kit, and two discs of music from his mother; like his brothers, he felt on top of the world on that day and, regardless of the fact that one of his given gifts didn't seem to want to work right, he still felt like he was on top of the world.

He had enough damn model kits to keep him busy for a while so, if his helicopter did have to be taken back to the store, he'd be able to preoccupy himself with one of them until either a replacement was made or a different type of remote-controlled helicopter was purchased. Besides the train model kit that his mother had gotten him he also had a model kit of Galaxy Quest's N.S.E.A Protector, the 1999 Eagle Ultra Probe, and of Belle of Tortuga—the latter was a resin model figure of a female pirate. All of them models had come from Bile; he did plenty of ooo-ing and ah-ing at them after unwrapping them.

The sexy as hell resin model kits of Dracula and Miss. Lucy and of Jessica Rabbit were done in one day, while the resin model figure of the Crypt Keeper—which came complete with fake doll hair—was done in two days. Those models had come from Lhaklar—he also got him a cool as hell Weather-changing lamp and a wrist watch that had an animated tornado and light-up lightning bolt on the clock-face.

The models of Dracula and Miss. Lucy, Jessica Rabbit, Crypt Keeper, and Belle of Tortuga—the latter of which had taken him just two days to do—were all on display on one of the shelves that were up in the upper right corner of his room; he was forced to stop doing his models after completing the resin model kits of the naked man battling a Great Ape and of the glow-in-the-dark wingless flying dragon a few days later—those two models had come from Lazeer. The only reason why he was forced to stop doing his models was because he was running low of model paints and glue.

"Up, up, up and away she goes—where she flies, nobody knows!" Lazeer, who was just now stepping out from their house, said.

"Very funny, Little Brother." Hazaar sniffed.

"Showing everyone how gangsta you are this morning?" Lazeer asked his brother, who was wearing the black, zip-up hoodie, that had "The Man; The Myth; The Legend" in white on the back, that Guyunis gave him for Christmas.

"First time I've been allowed to wear it so yes, I am." Hazaar replied as he flicked the controls that were on the remote that was in his hands. The helicopter that was flying in the air swooped low, then did two loop-de-loops, before evening out.

"That's not true—you could of worn it three times last week." Lazeer said quickly.

"I'd of frozen my nips and nuts off if I had done so and you know it." Hazaar said back.

The helicopter flew up high, nearly over the roof of their house, then it suddenly fell. Hazaar worked feverishly to get it back to flying before it struck the ground; he was getting himself ready to rush forward to catch it when it suddenly gain altitude again. It flew back to its original height; it did two more turns before coasting down to the sidewalk that was in front of the house. After that near catastrophic flight, Hazaar didn't feel like flying the thing anymore. He felt like grabbing it up then going inside; his current attitude wasn't matched by the weather. It was right lovely outside. It wasn't snowing, it wasn't abnormally hot or freezing, and no rainstorms or thunderstorms were happening. It was the first, real good, decent day since Christmas and yet, here he was, feeling low and frustrated.

"Man! I don't know what's more fun to watch—you getting frustrated or you getting depressed." Lazeer said as he went to the landed helicopter.

"Think you can do any better?" Hazaar shot. He pushed the helicopter's bulky controller into his brother's hand then stepped back, away from the helicopter. "You try it—let's see how much better you can fly this thing."

Brother Put Down Session began and lasted for nearly five, agonizing minutes. Lazeer, who was very mechanically inclined, merely looked at the bulky controller before tapping one of the two analog sticks forward. The helicopter "bounced" up from the concrete walkway twice before becoming airborne; it went up and it stayed up. It neither threatened to fall nor fell the entire time his brother had control of the remote. The helicopter flew across the street then back; it flew over and then around the house twice before going down the street a ways before coming back. Lazeer finished the session by making the helicopter fly around the front yard three times. His brother had no problems at all in landing the helicopter; it was a smooth, effortless, obedient landing. Jealousy grabbed him in its clutches after the helicopter was landed. He glared at his brother then walked forward.

He snatched the controller out of his brother's hand then tried to fly the helicopter again; the same thing happened for him. The helicopter lifted from the sidewalk only to fall back down after reaching a height of eight inches; it skidded along on the sidewalk for all of ten seconds before gaining a two-foot altitude before falling again.

"Show off!" Hazaar spat.

"Just look at the controller—what you're doing wrong is very simple." Lazeer returned.

"What?" Hazaar came close to slugging a fist in his brother's direction; he hadn't understood a thing of what his brother had just said.

"You're pushing both the throttle and the direction sticks forward—push just the throttle forward, the helicopter'll fly then." Lazeer said.

He had to struggle to not pummel his brother's already half-swollen, half-bruised face into mush—Lazeer was right! That was all that he was doing wrong; a light tap on the throttle stick made the helicopter fly up while a tap on the direction stick made the helicopter go to either the left or right. Other than having to be told about how to use the two buttons, that were under the direction stick, he had full control of the craft; he started having fun with it at once. He flew it all around the house before flying it halfway up the street. It came back to him twenty seconds later. Lazeer was given a five minute turn that seemed to take forever; he took over in commanding the helicopter after them five minutes were up. He and his brother took three turns each in flying the helicopter before calling it a day. The craft's charge was low; it was starting to get cold out; and he had just spotted his mother's Porsche coming down the street. He flipped the switch that was on the side of the controller to the OFF-position after the helicopter was landed then he went towards the craft. He was just reaching the landed helicopter when his mother pulled into the driveway.

"Hello, boys." their mother said after getting out of her car. "Looking snazzy for the neighborhood girls or just trying to act macho?"

"Thought we'd break them in," Lazeer said. He gave the sides of his green and black, blood splattered hoodie a slight tug before going forward to see if he could help his mother in taking anything that was in the car into the house.

"Nothing in there, sweetie." their mother said. "All of this month's groceries are in the house—ready to be put away." she closed the door to her car then started up the walk, towards the house's front door. "Guyunis sure made off with a fine catch on them two coats you two are wearing."

"I love this coat—glad to finally have a chance to wear it." Lazeer said as he followed his mother back to the house.

"Same here—he's learning our "tastes" well." Hazaar joined in.

"And you are learning his." their mother said.

Except for the lack of Christmas decorations—all of which had long since been packed away for another year—, the house looked very normal on the inside. The Christmas decorations were taken down after New Year's and, much like their being put up, they were taken down in one day. That didn't mean that all of the hooplah of the holidays was gone though; Bile was in the living room, playing the Super Dendy game system with Guyunis. The game that they were playing was one of the new ones that Bile found at the local flea market a few months ago. Bile had actually found two game cartridges at the flea market; instead of announcing his find, he stashed them. Both games, Metal Gear and Rambo, were gifted to him—that didn't mean that he "owned" them, though. The game system that his two brothers were playing was a family system; he had no right in claiming any game system games as his and he had no right in keeping his siblings from playing one of the games on the console.

"Ma." Bile said after their mother walked across the open window that was between the living room and dining room "Hey! Ya cheatin' bastard!"

"Well, I'm glad that a sense of normality has returned to my roost." Angel said as she set to work in taking the groceries out of their bags.

And, by a sense of normality, she meant that she was glad that nothing amiss or abnormal was happening to dampen or stall their lives. Christmas had come close to not happening for them after what happened in Berlin between he, Lhaklar, and their famous old man. Their mother came close to needing to go to the hospital after hearing what happened; she complained about chest-pains for hours and she actually locked herself up in her bedroom for nearly a full day before coming out. She only left her room to replace the shield around Berlin; she went straight back to her room after the shield was returned over the capital city.

The drive from Berlin to Elchesheim-Illingen wasn't as long as Mr. Leinart had said it'd be. He used his teleportation ability to shorten the ride a little; they got back home in a little under three hours. Mr. Leinart had stuck to his promise about getting them a bite to eat—a small meal of fries and chicken tenders was ordered for him and his brother before he shortened their drive from Berlin—and he also stuck to his promise on getting Lhaklar a "pretty nurse". Lhaklar's left arm was severely fractured at the ulna and radius; the nurse that tended him had put his arm in splint. It was still in a splint to that day—he refused to let their mother heal him fully with her Healing Abilities.

Mr. Leinart, Mr. Ballal, and the pilot, a man by the name of Hans Seiderman, went back to Berlin about an hour after he and his brother were returned home. Martial law was called after they returned to the capital; Mr. Leinart hadn't had a chance to stop any news footage of the chase or on the shield being removed from the capital city. The local Berlin news had shown a newsreel of the helicopter chase, of their father falling out of the helicopter, of him and Mr. Leinart hanging out of the helicopter, and, finally, the helicopter crashing into the side of the shield; their mother freaked when she saw the footage! The news footage was the sealing point of what happened between him and his brother, Mr. Leinart, Mr. Ballal, and Mr. Seiderman.

He and his brothers hadn't been allowed to leave the neighborhood thanks to what happened between he, Lhaklar, and their famous old man. His being neighborhood-stuck was the main reason for why he didn't have anymore model paints or glue.

A tv film on the chase through Berlin was shown yesterday, at five o'clock. Newsreel footage of the helicopter chase was coupled with security footage from the Berlin Bahnof Einkaufszentrum, from the Deutsches Rheuma-Forschungszentrum, from the Klinik für Psychiatrie und Psychotherapie and the Berlin University of Medicine, from the Bundespressekonferenz e.V, and from hunters cameras to make an hour-long film of what happened in Berlin on the twenty-third of December. He and Lhaklar decided to not watch the film; they went through it, so there was no need for them to watch it. Their mother and brothers saw it though. Their reactions were mixed.

"And I also see that you're both wearing the watches that Lhaklar gave you." their mother said after all of the groceries were put away.

"Yes, ma'am!" Lazeer said. He held his wrist up. The watch that Lhaklar gave him, which had a transparent skeleton clock-face, had a black leather band on it. He came close to missing curfew a few times over the last two months; he was taking advantage of his goggled glass, so he wasn't really paying attention to the time. Lhaklar had gotten him the watch as a sort of aid—something to help him keep up with the time when he was out, either with friends or hunting or doing whatever.

"Saw that you was using your helicopter when I came in—is it still giving you grief?" Angel asked Hazaar.

"Nope—Lazeer helped me in getting it straight. It works fine now." Hazaar replied.

"That's wonderful," Angel said. She was about to say something else when Guyunis walked into the dining room. Whatever she was about to say was forgotten; she was instantly drawn to what their brother was wearing. "Now I _know_ I'll _have_ to keep my eyes on my boys with the girls—that jacket looks good on you, G."

Most of what their brother was wearing was new. The pair of black-colored, knee-high jeans, that had rips in the knees, and that were "frayed" at the seams, and the pair of rugged, black leather combat boots, both of which had come from their mother, were new. The pair of studded wrist guards, which came from Lhaklar, were also new. Lhaklar had also gotten Guyunis two packs of socks for Christmas; they knew that Guyunis was wearing a pair of those too. No shirts were purchased or given to Guyunis for Christmas—none of them knew if shirts were his style; ever since his adoption, they hadn't ever seen him wearing a shirt. Bile had gotten Guyunis a faux, dark brown crocodile leather belt, that had a fake crocodile head on the buckle, for Christmas; Guyunis wasn't wearing the belt. Instead, his usual "chain-belt" was around his waist.

Guyunis looked about ready to leave the house. He was wearing the jacket that Bile gave him for Christmas—a real nice, black leather one that had chains on it. Guyunis placed his thumbs on his shoulders for a second after their mother spoke to him; he smiled then flicked his thumbs forward before doing a turn in the dining room. He was showing off; his black hair flew from one of his shoulders to the next as he turned. Hazaar and Lazeer both noticed that their brother was also wearing his usual chains around his shoulders and chest—the shine from the chains was unmistakable. Even their mother could see that he was wearing them.

Guyunis was taken aback by all of the gifts that he found for himself under the tree two weeks ago—he hadn't expected for them to go so far out for him. He had to be prodded to open a few of his presents by their mother; it took him five or six presents before getting fully in on the excitement. Naturally, their mother opened her presents last. He and his brothers opened theirs first; their mother sat by with a wide smile on her face the entire time.

"Doing as your brothers are in breaking that jacket in or are you planning on heading out?" their mother asked Guyunis.

"Both," Guyunis answered. He quickly retracted what he said. "Er, I mean. If i-k-t's okay with you, mum."

"Don't see why you can't head out for a while—just stay inside the shield and don't wander far." their mother said back.

"Think I can turn you into a courier?" Hazaar asked.

"No," Guyunis replied.

"Damn."

"Why you wantin' to me turn in-k-to a courier?" Guyunis asked.

"Need model paints and glue—for my models, y'know." Hazaar replied. He then looked at his mother. "Unless I'm allowed to go out too."

"I don't think so—you need to steer clear of doing any heavy-duty walking for a while longer." their mother said.

"Think you can pick some model paints and glue up for me, too?" Lazeer asked. "I'm also running low."

He could of said no. He could of said that he didn't want to be turned into a courier. He could of said a lot of things but, instead, he said that he would and he also said that his bruder's didn't have to pay him back on the paints or glue that he got for them. Hazaar and Lazeer thanked him, then gave him a "crude" list of the colors that they needed/wanted him to get for them; he decided to just get them three jars of each color—it seemed that they needed all of the known colors of the rainbow anyways.

After getting their lists, he went upstairs; to Lhaklar's room. He and Bile had finished their game. The console was a little warm; it needed a break. Bile went up to his room to listen to some of the tunes that were on the discs of music that he got on Christmas; he decided to head out for a little stroll in town. He grabbed his "chained" coat from his closet, then he came down to the dining room to see if it was okay for him to go out. Getting model paints and glue for his bruders hadn't been on his mind at all, but he was willing to go out of his way to get them what they needed for their models—he was also low on model paints and glue, so it was also time for him to do a re-stock too. Since he was to make a pit-stop for his younger bruders, he decided to go on and ask Lhaklar if he needed anything for his un-built models too.

When he reached Lhaklar's bedroom, he didn't think of the common courtesy gesture of knocking before entering; he just grabbed the knob that was on the closed bedroom door, then twisted it, then pushed the door in. Lhaklar, who had the book that Hazaar gave him on Christmas in one of his hands, practically leaped from his bed a second later. He groaned then turned to leave; walking in on one of your bruders when he was looking to get a boner from reading something that had pornographic material in it was not cool!

"Guyunis... wait."

He stopped on cue then, after a few seconds of standing in place, turned around. He went into Lhaklar's bedroom slowly then started looking around; Lhaklar had since gotten up from his bed. The book that he was reading/looking at was still open. It was still on his bruder's bed.

Lhaklar was very different in comparison to Bile and Hazaar; while there were a few similarities, there were also a lot of differences and it was very easy to tell these differences by simply looking around at the stuff that was displayed in his bedroom.

The bed that Lhaklar asked for in July had a reclaimed timber pine frame to it. It was pushed up against the wall; the room's window was just five inches from the foot of the bed. A half-charred, half-reclaimed pine wood stump was to the left of his bruder's bed; a white flexi lamp, that one could bend in all sorts of directions or forms, was on the stump-table's surface. The water-filled alarm clock, that was beside the lamp, was a nice piece of work. There was a little bit of space between the stump-table and the room's top left corner. A timberland Cedar log dresser, that had six drawers on it, was to the right of the room; the big screen tv that Mr. Leinart went out of his way to order for his bruder in July was above that. A medium-sized King Mackerel, a fish that had an olive coloration on the back, that faded to a silver color, with rosy iridescence on the sides, that faded yet again to a white color on the belly, was mounted on the wall above the big screen tv—his bruder had actually caught five of that type of fish on the last day that they were in Egypt. He went to South Africa to do his fishing; when he came back to their cave, he was tired, but very happy.

A rather pretty Coral Trout, a multi-red and orange colored fish that had lots of pink, purple, and black dots on its sides, was to the right of his bruder's bedroom window; his bruder actually caught six of that type of fish during one of his nighttime conducted fishing excursions. He was dog-tired when he returned to the cave that they were living in at the time. A rather impressive Bezoar Ibex rack was under the preserved Coral Trout. The super long horns that were on the brightly polished piece of wood curved almost all the way around; there were distinct ridges on both of them. While the Bezoar Ibex was a native animal of Turkey, Lhaklar didn't catch the specimen whose horns he had kept there. The Ibex that he caught was living in the Florida Mountains that were located in New Mexico; the animal was introduced to the area by the humans in 1970 and, according to his bruder, the animals had adapted, bred, and established themselves very well in the area.

Lhaklar was actually grounded after going to New Mexico; he hadn't received permission from their mutter before going. He wasn't allowed to hunt for two weeks after being grounded.

A poster that had a fisherman on it, that was trying to reel in a seemingly large bass, was beside the mounted Coral fish and Bezoar Ibex rack; the caption that was under the fisherman image simply said that _A Fisherman Brings Home Wonderful Sea Tales; Both Of The True And Of The Fake Sort. Can You Detect A Fisherman's Ruse?_ While he didn't understand the meaning of the poster he did know that a lot of fishermen told tall-tales to mask up either an unsuccessful fishing excursion or to make a small catch seem more colorful.

A brown oak corner desk and chair were in the room's lower left corner; there were two shelves above the desk that had two mason jars, model paints, and glue on them. A half-completed, silver and red-colored, 2012 Bufori MKIII La Joya was on the desk's surface. A contemporary oak bookcase, that had five shelves on it, was five feet from the corner desk; most of his bruder's smaller hunting trophies were on it.

Lhaklar was the only one of his bruder's to actively display his sword during the last few months; the rest of his other bruders had kept theirs hidden, but they had intentions of displaying them on their bookcases. Up to a month ago, Bile's, Hazaar's, and Lazeer's swords had remained hidden under the ground, in their special-made boxes; now that he had his own sword, they had their swords on display in their rooms. Lhaklar's sword, which he called The Glass Sword, was on the bookcase's top shelf; it had its own display stand, which was keeping it very nicely balanced on the shelf. Lhaklar's mini stereo and speakers, CDs, and magazines were on the bookcase's second shelf; the third shelf had a few books on it. Lhaklar's wand was also displayed on the third shelf; it was resting on its very own brown wood stand.

"You still read them books?" he asked after noticing that there was a little bit of dust on the shelf that the books were on.

"Yes," Lhaklar replied.

The fourth shelf that was on his bruder's bookcase had a preserved Meerkat, a small Mongoose-looking animal that had a long, slender body and a face that tapered off, coming to a point at the nose, which was brown. The preserved animal's eyes were small, black, and crescent-shaped; they had black patches around them. The animal was a mostly peppered-gray color; it had four toes on the ends of each of its long, slender legs. He and his family had actually gotten sick of eating Meerkat meat while in Africa—Lhaklar was able to catch a whole clan of fifteen Meerkats; they ate all but one in a week. A well-furred, rotund Hyrax, that had a short tail and red-brown fur, was beside the Meerkat; his bruder was able to catch ten of the eight pound, twenty inch animals when they were living in Africa. There were four model cars beside the preserved Hyrax; the Jaguar X150 DHC and the 1935 Duesenberg SSJ that Bile found at the Au am Rhein dump on the twenty-fifth of September, a blue-colored 1928 Mercedes-Benz SSK convertible, and a red-colored 1969 model Ford Mustang—the latter, of which, looked like it needed a new home; it was all squished up against the side of the shelf.

The last shelf of his bruder's bookcase had three trophies on it. A preserved Mohol bushbaby, a small primate that had grayish-brown fur, that was lighter on the limbs and trunk, over-sized ears, and a long tail; a Shoebill, a mostly brown bird, that had an unusually large bill, that was mostly yellow with blue and black dots on it; and a Pardine Genet, an animal that had a long, lean and slender body that had a series of dark spots and stripes over a near-white coat. Lhaklar had actually caught ten of the Mohol bushbaby's and, much like the fifteen Meerkat's that he caught, they had gotten sick of eating that type of meat quick. The three, fifteen-pound Shoebill's that his bruder caught had kept them fed for a while; they enjoyed that meal. The three Pardine Genet's had kept them fed for a few days; all three of the animals that were on the bookcase's last shelf were caught in Africa.

"The Art of the Run," he read after walking up to the bookcase then giving the nine books that were on the bookcase's third shelf a looking over. "Acidic Advancement, Zetakin Race Powers and Abilities, History of the Universe, Time Warp and Other Specialty Powers, 1000 Years of Classic Cars, Wiley's Book of Fish Records, Fishermen Tales Volume 2, and Gone Fins: The Fish That No Longer Exist." he smiled after reading the titles of all the books that were on the shelf then turned around. "Where's the book on Advanced Fla-k-tulance?"

"Didn't see any books on farting in my father's vast library, and none of my kooky brothers must of found a book on farting during their Christmas shopping last month." Lhaklar replied. He chuckled at this joke that he had grown accustomed to hearing over the last few months.

"T-k-hat fish for sale yet?" Guyunis asked after his eyes landed on what he called the Catch of the Century.

One would have to either be blind or plain uninterested in anything that was over-the-top cool or interesting to not notice the fish that was to the left of his bruder's bedroom door. It was a large fish, about two and a half feet long; the skin was a mixture of green, yellow, gray, and brown on top while the belly was white. What made the fish go into the over-the-top category was the teeth; the fish, a Goliath Tiger Fish, that Lhaklar caught in Africa's well-known Congo River Basin, had near two-inch long teeth in its large mouth! Lhaklar caught three of these fish; he did a lot of complaining after getting back to their then-resident cave about how his arms were burning him. They did nothing but gawk at the three fish that he brought in. Nearly all were the same size; one was a little darker than the other two, but all of them had very sharp and impressive teeth in their mouths. Lhaklar had kept the bigger of the three fish that he caught on that day so many months ago; he had gotten it preserved by a taxidermist in Europe a week after catching it.

The fairly smooth, multi-curved horn set that was above his bruder's bedroom door belonged to the Barbary sheep; while the animals were native to Africa's rocky mountains, the one that the horns belonged to hadn't been caught there. Lhaklar had chased three of the animals into a carefully set trap in Oregon in early April. Like the Bezoar Ibex, the Barbary sheep was introduced to North America and southern Europe by the humans some time ago. Lhaklar was grounded after going to Oregon; he hadn't received permission from their mutter to go there. He did no hunting or fishing for two weeks after catching the Barbary sheep.

"The fish, the Bison head, and the Bighorn sheep head are not for sale." Lhaklar said quickly, with a dash of defense added in for flavor. "You can look, but don't get any ideas in that head of yours about sneaking in here to steal them."

He snickered then looked at the latter two items that Lhaklar had just spoken about; the Bison head, that was to the right of his bruder's dresser and big screen tv, was very big and impressive. He was surprised that his bruder's wall could take the thing's weight; he was quite sure that the head alone was heavy. The shaggy, light brown fur, that was on and around the face of the animal, was coarse, but beautiful; the horns were short, but brilliantly sharp. They curved slightly and had a length of nearly two feet. Lhaklar had worked hard to catch the animal that's head was on his bedroom wall; he tracked down, then chased, one lone animal in Utah in early May. After corning the animal, he battled it. His arms were all cut up and bleeding, and one of his legs was punctured by one of the animal's horns, but he was happy over his hunt; the animal was in a very grassy clearing in Utah, a state that his bruder had gotten permission to go to. The Bison was a fully grown animal and it gave Lhaklar a sure run for his money.

The Bighorn sheep head that was on the other side of his bruder's dresser and big screen tv was just as impressive as the Bison head. The head, that was on the wall, was a grayish-brown color; the horns that the animal had on it were large. They curved in a near perfect circle. Lhaklar had caught two Bighorn sheep after getting permission to go to Oregon; they ate the female animal that he caught while the male animal was only partially eaten. The head was cut from the animal; Lhaklar sent that to a taxidermist in Colorado. He saw to preserving the animal's pelt himself. The Bighorn sheep's pelt was lying across the baseboard of his bruder's bed; except for the white patch that was at the pelt's base or rump area, the entire pelt was a grayish-brown color.

A three foot tall Gray crowned crane stood at the foot of his bruder's bed; the main body of the bird was mainly gray while the wings were mainly white. The head of the bird had a crown of stiff, golden-colored feathers on it; the sides of the bird's face were white. There was a red, inflatable throat patch on the bird's throat. While the bill was slim and short, the legs were long; both were black in color. The bird's feet were large, yet slender. The bird was caught in Africa on one cloudy, miserable day; Lhaklar caught it and an Ostrich. Since the family was famished on that day, his bruder wasn't able to keep the Ostrich. He was allowed to keep the Gray crowned crane as a trophy though.

While he, Bile, Hazaar, and Lazeer had either small game or large game animal trophies in their rooms Lhaklar was the only one who had birds and fish in his and that was what made him different from them. The risks that he took in his hunts, along with some of the injuries that he came back with having after finishing his hunts, and his going to specific places to hunt without asking their mum for permission first, was another thing that set Lhaklar apart from him and his bruders; they did a lot of head shaking after he came back from his hunts with either bleeding wounds or broken bones. With their being five hunters in the family providing for the family, he really shouldn't of gone so far out of his way or been so careless in his hunts. Their mum had chided him a lot after he came back from his hunts; she hadn't much liked how he conducted his hunts.

"How do you not spoof your pan-k-ts with that in your room!" Guyunis exclaimed after his eye landed on the bodacious babe, that was on the poster, that was pinned to the back of Lhaklar's closet door. The model that was on the poster was wearing absolutely nothing; she was lying on her stomach on a beach somewhere. Her legs were spread; her arms were holding her top half up just a bit, so a tiny bit of her pink-colored nipples could be seen. The model's blonde hair was partially braided; whatever wasn't braided was wavy. The model's green eyes were very seductive.

"Eat your heart out, Bro—she's nice ain't she?"

"Dude! She's a bombshell!"

The poster of a woman wearing a white shirt that barely covered her breasts was pinned to the wall above his bruder's bed; the woman, another blonde, but this one having very serious blue eyes, had a shotgun pointed out at the room. The caption that was under the model said _All Who Enter Must Admit To Who The Boss Is In This House_. While the poster wasn't as shocking as the one that had the fully naked woman that was lying on the beach on it, it still had the desired effect; Lhaklar liked acting like the man of the house—the daddy or the male-leader—, the poster emphasized that fact perfectly. The aluminum sign that he gave his bruder for Christmas was right beside that poster; the sign was silver and black with gold lettering that simply said _I Have A Job—I'm Exempt From the Rules._

"So, what was it that brought you to see me?" Lhaklar, who automatically took on an adult-sounding voice, asked.

"Huh?" Guyunis said. He was immersed in looking at the poster that had the woman lying naked on a beach on it. "Oh... uh... well, was just comin' up to see if you needed anything-k for your models. I'm going in-k-to town—Hazaar and Lazeer have asked me to pick up some stuff for them, so I figured that I'd best come up and see if you needed anything-k too."

"Guess that's a good enough reason for you to be interrupting me getting a hard-on," Lhaklar said. He punched Guyunis in the shoulder then went over to his corner desk. He checked his supplies quickly while Guyunis stole over to the still-open book that was on his bed. "I do need a few colors—mostly red, yellow, black, and blue."

"I'll see abou-k-t gettin' those for you soon." Guyunis said. Lhaklar turned around at once. He was moderately surprised to see his adoptive brother looking at the pages of the book that he left open on his bed.

"I'm charging you for each page that you look at, Bro." Lhaklar said as he walked over to his bed.

Not all of what they were given for Christmas was under the tree. Lhaklar woke up to find the Mirror Carp and Zander that he caught on the eighth of November on the wall to the right of his bedroom door; their mutter, who claimed to of used both in her cooking, had obviously sent them to a taxidermist to be preserved for him. He was ecstatic over finding them on his wall; their mutter had practically been scooped up in a big ol' hug five minutes after he saw them.

The book that his bruder was reading when he barged in was another gift that wasn't under the tree. Hazaar found a book that was mostly pornographic in nature in a bookstore in November; he had originally planned to keep it as his but, at the last moment, he decided to give it to Lhaklar. The book was mostly full of images of naked or semi-naked women; there were a few paragraphs to each page that described certain female practices that men found sexy or appealing. The book was the last thing given to his bruder on Christmas; Hazaar had "slipped" it to him after breakfast. Lhaklar had spent nearly an hour reading/looking at it before going on to doing something else.

"You don't have t-k-o worry about getting-k dirty magazines anymore—this makes a hundred magazines." he said as he stepped away from the book.

"Came close to deciding to not get any dirty magazines this month." Lhaklar admitted.

He left Lhaklar's room then, after giving it a thinking-over, decided to go on and get Bile some model paints and glue too. Bile had also gotten some models for Christmas and, while he wasn't as interested in doing models as he and his bruders were, he was building them. Slowly.

Before leaving the house, he went to his bedroom; he grabbed his old hoodie from his closet, then deducted €20 out from the allowance that he was given earlier that month, then grabbed the new wallet that Hazaar gave him for Christmas. The wallet that he was stuffing into the back of his new pants was the first wallet he had ever owned in his life; while the red-brown leather was normal, the zebrawood bifold that was on the front flap was unique. He liked the wallet a lot. He started using it at once.

There was a small arts and crafts store in town; he went to it quickly then purchased the paints and glue that he and his bruders needed for their models. He sent all of what he purchased home; his bruders would find their paints and glue waiting for them on either their desks or their dressers a little later on. After doing that little task he got down to doing what he really wanted to do in his outing: exercise—do a little walking and jogging—and, of course, show off for the girlies.

The awful experience that he had with that woman that he met at Oktoberfest II had deterred his want of spending "quality" time with females for only a little while. Ottilie had tried to use him; she had only played being interested in him. When they got to the parking lot, she only wanted a quickie—the hop in then hop out routine—then she wanted him to follow her back to the fair—which he had stupidly done. She pulled the "poor girl who can't throw a thing" routine afterwards; he played two games for her, and won her two fairly big stuffed toys, before figuring her out. They parted ways afterwards—agitation and disgust were the reason for why he wandered into the fair's parking lot. He was attacked right after he saw what was going on between Bile and Lhaklar and that other guy. It took him nearly a month and a half before scrounging up the want to spend time with a female companion—he learned from his experience; the last companion that he slept with hadn't used him and they went the whole way.

The sky was overcast when he started his walk/jog; it stayed that way until he started going down a side-street that was flanked on one side by buildings. The field that on the other side of the street had tall, yellow grass in it. The shield was close-by, but he neither took notice of it or of the fact that he had more than human eyes watching him. A few whistles and cat-calls were sent his way after the sun came out; he didn't know what shone more brightly on his coat—the chains, which were jingling slightly, or the black leather fabric that the chains were sewn into. The temperature, which was fifty-one degrees when he left home, went up a degree or two for a few minutes before dropping back down. He ran on for a mile before stopping right where the shield was closest to the street. He felt very content and pleased with himself; he received some complimentary whistles and cat-calls from several females during his run and he also received some comments from the same gender on what he was wearing too. He turned around after finishing his run; he stood in place for a minute or two before starting back up the street. He had just gone halfway back up the street when he noticed that he had company walking alongside him.


	38. Chapter 38

Unlike some, who would take in a situation, or a potentially dangerous person, in from afar, he went straight up to the shield then started following the man that his father continued to call his son. As he saw it, this was a possible once in a million type of opportunity; he could compare himself to the guy, he could think about the guy, and he could be safe while doing so.

His heart came close to leaping into his throat after his eyes were attracted to the bright shine that was coming from the guy's jacket; after his eyes focused, and the guy came into full focus, he gasped then started the process of leaving the bushes that he was walking behind. He hadn't expected for him to show up and he had definitely not expected for him to come within or stop so close in proximity to the shield; after seeing where the man was going, he intercepted him then started following him. He didn't want an obscured or blurry or distant viewing of the guy that was the cause of his simple, normal life being turned upside down. He wanted a good, close-up view of the guy. He was getting just that now.

As he walked along, getting a good look at the guy that his father continuously called "Numbskull", he was reminded of the events that took place last night.

He, his parents, and siblings were all seated in the dining room of his father's ship; except for Baruk, everyone was eating and wasn't doing anything disturbing, disgusting, or bewildering. Not long after sitting at the table, and then filling their plates, his brother inched one of his fingers up, towards his face. Baruk had pocked, prodded, and then pulled at the false took that was his top left canine for all of twenty seconds before moving on to the implanted teeth that were also in his mouth. About twenty more seconds of pocking, prodding, and pulling happened before their parents spoke.

"Son, quick picking your teeth." his father said.

"Very rude dear, not to mention it's not very flattering to the rest of us who are trying to eat." his mother said.

His brother did as he was told to do for only five minutes before resuming the pocking, prodding, and pulling of his mouth's false tooth and implanted teeth. He and his siblings had watched in disgust and bewilderment the entire time; they watched their brother for all of thirty seconds before a loud, snapping sound was heard. All of their heads jerked up, then they looked towards the table's head, where their father was seated. Their father had obviously taken his hand from the table then snapped his fingers to gain their attention.

"Do I need to say it again? Show some respect—quit picking your teeth!" his father barked.

"Do they hurt? Is that why you're picking at them?" Kaasa asked their brother.

"What do they feel like?" Sudir asked their brother. "Do they feel like normal teeth or—"

"No, they don't hurt him—the time-period for feeling pain after tooth replacement or implantation is long past. He's just experiencing that period where he's noticing the work that's been done in his mouth." their father answered for Baruk.

"That's right, dear." their mother said. "Your daddy's had several of his teeth knocked out and then put back in or replaced. He knows what your brother's going through—he's doing all that he can to help him get through this."

"With plenty of chiding added into the mix—if he didn't go and get into a fight with that guy, he'd not have any false or implanted teeth in his mouth." his father said. He said nothing more for a few seconds before looking at him. "Of course, such a thing wouldn't of happened if one of my older sons wouldn't of gone out gallivanting with the ladies."

The subject of his possibly being the source for "Numbskull's" existence was brought up at either every meal or at every opportunity that his elders—meaning his mother and father—found available. Sometimes, after he entered a room that they were in, they dropped what they were previously conversing about to converse about the child that he "could of created"; it was getting quite annoying now. Even though he was insistent on his not being the sire of the child, they continued to think of him as being so and they also continued to chide him on how he lived his life—meaning; how he liked to party with the ladies.

Thanks to his parents, it hadn't taken him long to dread waking each morning; if what he had to look forward to each day was his parents getting on him about his life choices, and about his possibly siring a child through an illicit affair, then why bother getting up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed? Whether the two knew it or not, they were stressing him out. His simple life had gone down the toilet. The existence of this one being, that they continued to claim as an offspring of his, had made his normal, simple life go from being normal and simple to plain stressful and irritating. With all the stress that he was feeling, he wasn't surprised about his becoming a smoker; due to his high stress levels, and his current, irritating life, he took on a habit that he normally wouldn't do. Even though the stress was making him want to become a full-blown alcoholic, his drinking was still the same—he thanked the Gods on that one! While smoking was bad, and while he had ideas of quitting this new habit of his, he was content with having that and only that to contend with. He didn't think he'd be able to cope with being both a smoker and a deep alcoholic at the same time. Just quitting the sticks was going to be hard enough; he didn't want deep alcoholism added onto that plate.

His father was as good as his word on finding and then taking the pack of smokes that he got on the thirtieth of October; those were found and then disposed of a few hours after Baruk was retrieved from the nature reserve that neighbored the one that their camps were in. The second and third packs of smokes that he had gotten were smoked in-full by him, while his fourth and fifth packs were only half-smoked before being found and then confiscated. Even though he knew that the habit was a bad one, it _was_ helping him in his stress moments.

He had gotten so sick of his parents' constant nagging, and their constant attempts to make him feel guilty over Baruk needing a false tooth and tooth implants, that he made the decision to leave their ship and camp yesterday. As luck would have it, Trobrencus and his two sons were getting ready to scout the towns that were nearby; he asked if he could join them and they said yes. A pleasant, twenty-four hours had followed; with the exception of the small talk that he and Trob had on the guy that he could of sired, he was left alone on the subject. The camp that he, Trobrencus, Trivit, and Bohir had slept in last night was near the small nature reserve that was called the Auenwälder und Feuchtwiesen westlich von Ötigheim; the reserve was right, smack, in-between the towns of Steinmauern and Rastatt, so it was the ideal place to rig up a temporary camp in.

Up to now, none of them had seen a thing of his niece's four sons and, up to now, none of them had seen hide nor hair of the man that his parents continued to call his son.

"Body's built stronger than mine," he noted of the man, who he was walking in-sync with. "Shoulders are broader—much more thicker than mine. Waist is a degree wider than mine. Arms also look bigger than mine. Can't see his facial features because of that damn hoodie he's wearing—it doesn't look like he has any horns, or ears, on his head."

The guy was the complete opposite of him. Big, sturdily built, and he also seemed to be rather intelligent. Even the eyes were different—a solid yellow color, that glowed brilliantly. There were no pupils in the fellow's eyes and, now that he was up close to the guy, he could see that they really weren't of the slightly slanted sort. They looked more like the scalene triangular shaped type to him; the glow from the eyes would make anyone assume the shape was slanted, when they really weren't. The guy did look young—either he was a young adult, or he was nearing the age of being a young adult. The fellow knew that he was nearby—he had made his presence known very quick. It wasn't like he was hiding in the shadows or trying to keep a low-down or anything. He and the guy were walking side by side; the shield was the only thing keeping them separate.

"So, you're the guy who put my grandfather in the hospital." he said, more to himself than to the guy that he was still walking in-sync with.

As far as he was concerned, he was free. Free of being called this fool's father. Free of being ridiculed. Free of the guilt-trips and his current, stressful life. A weight was lifted from his shoulders—it would remain off his shoulders for a few hours, before being placed back on by his sire. He, who had never really excelled in science while in school, never considered the facts or the science that concerned the facts about his family or about the being that was on the other side of the shield.

His father, KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit, wasn't born with horns, yet he sired a son who had horns—the reason behind this lay in genetics. KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit carried within his genome a trait for horns, which he inherited from his great-grandfather, RaalVile Dawlur Surfeit, who, in turn, inherited the trait for horns from his father, IackVile Uovo Surfeit. KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit had also inherited his powers—his Energy and Elemental powers—from that same genetic link and he, in turn, had passed some of them powers to his eight children. While his older brother, Vile Skujik Vile, hadn't inherited the gene that unlocked the ability to use Elemental powers he did have it in his genes. The recessive gene that Vile had became unlocked after he created his two, younger children—Angel Irene and Bile Vile. Vile, like he and Dara Dara, could create offspring who had horns and they could also create children who could do Elemental powers. His father would relay all of this information in just a few hours time; he'd find himself just as stressed, pissed off, and with a major headache afterwards.

Most of the well-known Surfeit men had broad shoulders; his father had broad shoulders and, thanks to that, he had the gene to pass broad shoulders to his offspring. Most of the well-known Surfeit men were thick or very strong-bodied; his father was both and, thanks to that, he had the gene to pass thick or strong-bodiedness to his offspring. Most of the well-known Surfeit men were tall; his father was tall—he stood six foot, four inches—and, thanks to that, he had the gene to pass tallness to his offspring. This and more would be told to him in a few hours time; he'd grow so headache-y over the information that he'd need a few hours to recover.

He also felt no connection to the guy that was on the other side of the shield. In all the useless tube shows that he watched over the years, he heard countless times about how a man would feel some sort of connection to a child that was either said to be his or that was shown to or "plopped" in his arms by an "extraterrestrial" that was abducting him throughout his life. He'd say this to his father in a few hours, before the headache set in; his father would say for him to shut up and to not be silly. He wasn't sure if such a come-by connection was possible—he had never felt a paternal connection before and the few familial connections that he had had formed some time after a certain someone in his family was born or after he came in contact with someone that he formerly didn't know ab—

"Wha-k-t!"

At first, he thought that his great-grandfather's uncle had come up behind him; the voice that he heard was low-sounding, like Trobrencus's, but, unlike Trob's, it hadn't had a weasel-like back-sound to it. It sounded nasally and youthful—the crack of one who was about to experience or who was experiencing or who was in the last stage of puberty was unmistakable. It took him a little while to notice that it was "Numbskull" who had spoken; the guy was facing him now. While he still couldn't make out any of his facial features, he couldn't mistake the annoyed look that was in the fellow's eyes.

The fellow's coat wasn't zipped or buttoned up—now that he was facing him, he could see more of his physical features. The drawing that he was shown in late-October had only been half-correct on the fellow's appearance; now that he could see him in person, he was blown away.

The muscle, that was on the chest, was thick; the fellow had either inherited the muscle-building gene or he was lifting a lot of heavy things to achieve all the muscle that he had on him. The lines—veins—that were on the fellow's chest were barely noticeable, thanks to the coat and the chains that he was wearing. The six-pack, that was on the fellow's abdomen, was more than just impressive; it was deep and very well formed. The hands looked very youthful, which he found very surprising; each finger possessed a cracked, dark gray fingernail on their ends.

"I couldn't of sired this thing!" Triskull thought as the man turned then started back up the street from wince he came down. "Everything's wrong—the body-size, the muscle, the eyes..."

While he was oblivious to the inner struggle that his unwanted walking companion was having, he wasn't oblivious to the fact that the man was making him feel uncomfortable. He had never liked being stared at or watched. It made him feel funny. It made him feel like he did something that he shouldn't have; it also made him feel like he was being evaluated by someone that wasn't right in the head. He didn't do a thing to be stared at like he was and he didn't do a thing to warrant being followed either—running down the street, showing off to the females that were in town, and showing off his new duds, shouldn't warrant this type of attention.

Except for that one time, where he turned to ask to guy what he wanted, he hadn't said a thing to him; he didn't know who the guy was and he didn't know what his intentions were. For all he knew, the guy could be trying to lure him out of the shield, so he could beat him up or something. While the guy was a stranger he was quite sure that he resided in the Rastatter Rheinue camp, where all them other freaks were—the guy sure looked like belonged with all them other freaks; he had horns on his head that swept back gracefully and he also had a pair of wings on his back that were torn in several places.

For some strange reason, he started thinking about the Mothman—that odd, North American cryptid that he only knew the existence of thanks to his nerdy little bruder, Hazaar. The Mothman was said to be some weird half-human, half-moth creature that was routinely seen before disasters happened—like when the Silver Bridge collapsed on December 15, 1967, and then again on June 2, 2045, when a major vehicle pile-up happened on the old Bartow Jones Bridge.

Hazaar had driven the family crazy after finding the boxset of his current favorite tv show, Screamers, under the Christmas tree; he was so ecstatic over the find that he insisted on their all sitting and then watching the set's first disc with him. They were bored off their asses for all of an hour; the Mothman was the first cryptid that they learned about, while the Jersey Devil—some wild flying creature, that was said to have a goat-like head, cloven hind feet, small arms that had clawed hands on their ends, horns, and leather-like wings—was the next cryptid that they learned about. He already knew about the cryptid that was called the Owlman—another weird creature, that was said to be seen in the Cornwall, England village of Mawnan—so he didn't pay much mind to the segment on that beast. The same went with the segments that were on the Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, and the Abdominal Snowman—pretty much everyone knew the specifics on those three elusive beasts. After an hour of being bored off their asses, their mutter said for Hazaar to give their eyes a rest. They went their separate ways, after being freed from their hour-long boredom.

"Don't even think about it." he thought as he went back up the street. "He's not the Mothman or the Jersey Devil or any of the other weird creatures that Hazaar's "freak" show depicts. He's just an alien with freakish features—that's all."

To get his mind off the Mothman, and his unwanted companion, he started thinking about what he was going to do after returning home.

Besides putting his old hoodie and his new coat in his closet he had a mind to get in on working on one of the models that he yet to get around to building. The Motorbike motorcross motorcycle model, that Lhaklar got him for Christmas, was one of his not-yet-done models, so was the Honda NSR500 '84 model that Hazaar had gotten for him. The Garthok monster from the movie Coneheads—another model that came from Hazaar—, and the resin model kits of the Ghost Rider, and his awesomely cool motorcycle, of the sexy Vampirella, and of the dragon hatchling—all of which had come from Lazeer—had also not been done yet.

The resin model of the Norris monster from the 1982 version of The Thing had taken him a little while to do—his mutter had gotten the model for him for Christmas; it took him nearly four days to finish it. The resin model of The Monster That Challenged The World had taken nearly as long to complete. Lhaklar had gotten him two awesome monster models for Christmas; while the model of The Monster That Challenged the World took him three and a half days to do, the model of the Creature from the Black Lagoon mourning its mate had taken him a little under two days to do. His model paints were a little over half full when he started building them three models—in order to finish the Creature from the Black Lagoon model, he had to borrow some paint from Bile. Now that he had some paint and glue, he could continue with his model building.

If he didn't want to work on any of his unopened or completed models he could whittle a little on the blocks of wood that were in his closet. Hazaar had gotten him two new knives for Christmas; a torched stag pocketknife, that had a Damascus blade in it—which he thought was just too nice to use on anything—and a fan knife, that he had yet to get use to. He could get use to the fan knife while whittling on the blocks of wood that were in his closet—he started collecting the four to five inch long blocks of wood a few days after Christmas; the idea of carving something out of them, and of using them to get use to his new knives, was a good one. He had just not been able to ignore that idea.

And, if he didn't want to whittle on the blocks of wood, he could always listen to the three new CDs that Bile had gotten him for Christmas. There were just endless possibilities of what he could do after returning home; do one of the models that he hadn't yet gotten around to doing, get use to his fan knife by whittling, listen to one—or all three—of the new CDs that Bile had given him... or just watch some tv, or play a video game, or stare at the odd lamp that Hazaar had gotten him for Christmas. The Abyss LED table lamp, that was designed to look like someone's lower intestine, was a strange one; he didn't know how to react to the thing after unwrapping it. The lamp was on one of the stone mantle shelves that were in his room; it was a tall lamp and it was quite bright when it was on.

"You've got thirty euros left over from your allowance—if you don't want to do any of them things, you can always sit down and make a list of things you want to get this month." he thought as he started up the street that was flanked on one side by the field that had the tall, yellow grass in it.

While he had a good mind to just get in on building one of his unopened models, that was a good idea. Naturally, his monthly magazine issues would be put on that list first, followed by his smokes—which he was getting rather low on. His pack of HB cigarettes had only two cigarettes in it; he was completely out of his Gold Flake cigarettes. He might add a CD or two to that list and he might also add another thing of model paints to it too.

He nodded his head with each passing thought of the things that he could do after returning home then, without putting much thought into it, he turned his head slightly. He was on an incline now, going towards main-town Elchesheim-Illingen, so he had a good view of what was going on around him. The field that had the tall, yellow grass in it was oddly still and quiet; the town in front of him was also quiet and still, which he found odd. While he didn't mean to do it, he searched for the horned one that followed him; he found him after a minute of searching. His unwanted, former walking companion had a companion of his own that, from his current distance, looked human.

It was really no business of his on who his former walking companion spoke to or associated with—he was a firm believer of leaving others be and of leaving the dealings of others alone. He turned to walk away and was instantly surprised when he found himself going in the opposite direction of the one that he wanted to go in. His legs moved as if on their own. He had no idea that he was going towards the field of tall, yellow grass until he went into the front-lying grass shoots. After finding himself surrounded by the field's tall grass he decided to just go with the thrill—he let his legs take him forward, towards the shield that kept his family's resident town safe.

"Serious? He didn't act in any way aggressive with or towards you?" TrivitVile was asking him.

"No. Other than his turning and then saying 'what' he mostly ignored me." Triskull replied.

"Can I say odd? With his injuring Baruk like he did in October, and with it being known that he's the one behind Angel's sons' injuries, and with his fighting and then sending Duru to the hospital—twice—, I'd of expected a little more violent reaction from him." TrivitVile mused.

"Was expecting a little more aggression from him myself." Triskull admitted.

The field that obscured his view was thickly and grotesquely overgrown with the thickest and tallest grass that he had ever seen. The grass had to be over six feet tall; despite its yellow color, it looked healthy and strong. The guy that his father continued to call his son had disappeared behind it a little under five minutes ago; he had no more heaved a collective sigh of relief to finally be rid of him before TrivitVile, his great-grandfather's uncle's oldest son, came up behind him.

Trivit, as he and the rest of the family called the guy, had a weird way of acknowledging his presence—instead of speaking to let one know that he was near, he silently strode up from behind. A tap or a slap on the shoulder was usually done afterwards. The action was an unpleasant and rude one; despite his constant reminders and warnings, the guy continued to do it with him. The thought of giving the guy a little lesson on why one didn't do that had passed his mind once or twice; he had even come close to slugging a fist at the guy a few times over the years, after he did his unpleasant acknowledging. Since he was a grown man, he couldn't do that. Grown men didn't go around, slugging their fists without a good, justifiable reason. While Trivit's action was annoying, it wasn't a good enough reason to get physical.

Trivit was much older than he; he was a hundred and eighty-nine years younger than his grandfather so, in a sense, he was from his grandfather's generation. The guy looked like a perfect blend of both parents; while his face was heart-shaped, like his mother's, it didn't look like Bahne's. Instead, it looked like his father's—Trobrencus's. There were puke-yellow trails under the guy's eyes—which were the same color as his father's—and there were red, flake-like patches on both of his cheeks, on his neck, and on both of his arms. The guy's cream-colored hair was long; it went down past his shoulders. Trivit was bi-colored; the left side of his face and body was red, while the other side of his face and body was purple. He had a lean, but strong as steel, body type. He stood six foot, two inches. The sleeves of Trivit's blue, long sleeve, button down shirt were rolled up; the pair of brown pants that he was wearing were mud-stained in several places. The pair of brown shoes, that were on Trivit's feet, were old; there was a nice coat of dust and mud on both of them. The coat that Trivit was wearing before leaving their short-time camp was dangling from the index finger of his left hand, which was currently hooked over his left shoulder.

Trivit was introduced to the family nearly two thousand, two hundred, and two years ago; even though he knew of the guy's existence, and even though he and the guy hung around one another when their families got together for the holidays, or for specific special occasions, he didn't know much about him. He knew that he was a lady-lover and he also knew that he liked to flirt around with the ladies. He knew about the on-again, off-again relationship that the guy had with his girlfriend—of whom he hadn't yet seen or gotten to know; all he knew was that the girl's first name was Alaah—and he also knew the basic history on the guy—that he was the second-born of Trobrencus and Bahne's first set of twins, that he was the only one out of Trobrencus and Bahne's first set of twins to be born alive, that he and his deceased twin brother were born during the early part of Shlock's Plague, and that he worked at a history museum. That was really it on what he knew on the guy and, to be both fair and honest, Trivit also knew the bare basics on him too.

"Looks like today's going to be a repeat of yesterday." TrivitVile said, jarring him out of his thoughts. "The popster and I split up after you ran off—he said something on our covering more ground if we went separate ways."

"And?"

"As far as I know, my father's not seen anything and I surely haven't seen anything." TrivitVile replied.

"While my father's concerned about all of them he's really worried about Bile." Triskull said, distantly. "As far as I know, he hasn't been seen in a while now and, as you know, he was badly injured the last time he was seen."

"Please—I've seen the photographs; reframe from speaking on the injuries that he was seen with in October." TrivitVile said quickly.

"Done—just bringing Bile's injuries up makes me hurt down there anyways." Triskull replied.

"Just thinking about the younger of the four having an injury to his face makes _my_ face hurt." TrivitVile said back.

It was an innocent, simple gesture. The fist-bump was usually done between two that trusted or respected one another or when two persons were in full agreement with one another. It usually substituted a handshake or a high five. While Guyunis knew this he didn't really see the fist-bumping between Triskull and Trivit as benign; one look at Trivit was all it took for his heart to start slamming in his chest.

There were only two things that he was really, truly afraid of. The fear of his losing his loved ones, his new family, was both normal and at the top of his two-item list. The second item that was on his short fear list wasn't normal; it was forged into his life by one of his former adoptive bruders.

Aayden Meyer, the little bruder of his former adoptive fader, Arthur Meyer, was an avid Zombie fanatic during his early, mid, and late teenage years. He watched all sorts of television programs and films on Zombies, he collected all sorts of Zombie merchandise, and he was also one for pranking or trying to prank certain people in the household—mainly his siblings—and his friends during the weekends by dressing up and then acting like a Zombie. He got his fair—or unfair, since Aayden was particularly nasty with him during his pranks—share of Zombie pranks while under the Dieter and Elke Meyer roof. One time, when Aayden was fourteen or fifteen years old, he came up behind him; Aayden did his best to tear the flesh of his right arm off with his teeth in his prank and he also did his best to rip a lock of his hair out too. Aayden went around afterwards, saying how he transferred the "Zombie Curse" to the "Demon"—as he was called back then. Aayden's parents didn't do a thing to correct this behavior and, as far as he knew, they didn't get on their son for biting him.

Aayden was also one for making crude representations of Zombies out of scarecrows; he'd make a Zombie scarecrow, then either hide it someplace in the house for someone to find or throw it at someone who was sleeping. He couldn't watch or read or even listen to anyone talk about Zombies without breaking out in a sweat or freaking out thanks to Aayden and his damn pranks.

Ironically, he learned the specifics on the undead creatures from the one who caused his fear. It was this knowledge that was clicking away in his mind.

"They are usually depicted as mindless, re-animated human corpses that have a hunger for human flesh; modern film and program Zombies were invented by a man named George A. Romero, who's descendants have kept their ancestor's Zombies on the big screen to the current-day."

That was the first fact that clicked away in his mind.

"Most of the films and programs that depict Zombies show no plausible cause for Zombieism; there are a small handful of Zombie films and shows that have plots that revolve around some airborne virus that causes Zombieism. There's an even smaller section of Zombie films and shows that revolve around the Zombies being escaped lab creations."

That was the second fact that clicked away in his mind.

"Most of the time, the Zombie-curse is transferred through physical contact—by a Zombie biting or scratching an uninfected civilian. The response to Zombieism is depicted in films and tv shows as slow, which allows for a whole town, a city, or a whole country to be infected. Normally, only a small handful of survivors survive the Zombie infestation."

That was the third fact that clicked away in his mind; the fourth one followed quickly on its heels.

"Zombies are usually depicted as either slow or fast creatures with limited mental facilities; they are capable of achieving in-human strength during feeding frenzies."

His fear had caused him to forget all of what he did in the last five minutes. The walk through the field of tall, yellow grass; his stopping halfway through the field to remove his chained coat and wrist guards; his sending his chained coat and wrist guards home via a spell, then his continuing on towards the shield that was at the field's far end; and, lastly, his humming during the last few minutes of his walk.

Everything was quieter and stiller now; no birds flew in the sky, no bird calls were being made, no car horns were being blared, there was no sound of car tires squealing on asphalt... even the sound of gravel being stepped on was muted. At the moment, all he could focus on were the two people that were on the other side of the shield. His unwanted, former walking companion was one of the two people; the one that was with him was at least an inch shorter than he—his former assumption of the person looking like a human was quickly thrown out the window. Sweat automatically poured from him when he saw that he looked like a mild-form Zombie, complete with what looked like flake-like patches of skin, torn lips, and a nose that looked half-rotten.

 _"Stay inside the shield and don't wander far."_

Such a short, simple command... The mild remembrance came and went very quickly; he wasn't allowed to think about who it was that told him that.

A bunch of dark gray clouds drifted over the sun; the landscape was plunged into "darkness" for all of a minute before the sun peaked out to light it back up. The temperature, which was fifty-one degrees prior to the sun's disappearance, dropped to a frosty forty-eight degrees; the former temperature was never regained. Guyunis shivered for a few seconds before heaving a breath in; his dark body changed, became a dark red color, as he kept the breath in. He only released the breath when he felt a need to breathe normally again; his body was warm when he released the breath. He moved his shoulders back and forth a few times before stepping forward. There was a little bit of resistance from the shield as he stepped through it; he felt himself being pulled back as he went forward for only a second. After exiting the protection of the shield, he went towards the Zombie-man and the man that was his former, unwanted walking companion. There were a few bushes and trees dotting the area where they were; he used them to keep himself hidden as he went forward.

Neither he nor the two men knew of his approach until it was too late.

"And lo; the beast cometh out from the dark, shrouded by fog and smoke. He scareth the women, make the men cringe, and causes tears to fall down the cheeks of children. Cold shall follow this beast wherever he goes so beware of he who stalks the night and the dark spaces for he shall bring pity, despair, and pain to those that he cometh upon."

That was written in the Great Holy Book; the book that his father read before going to bed, the book that he and his siblings read after every mealtime, the book that he and his family toted to church every Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday. He and his family knew that passage by heart, so it was no surprise to him that it popped into his head after he saw the man that his cousin called Numbskull rushing towards him.

 _"I'd of expected a little more violent reaction from him."_ TrivitVile recalled saying earlier. He remembered no more of what he did or said earlier; he just braced himself for the hit that was about to happen.

Triskull was unsure of what was going on at first; Trivit's action of bracing himself for Guyunis's impact was seen in a different light and Guyunis charging past him was seen as nothing more than a shadow—the sun had just come out from behind the clouds, after all. Triskull's eyes came close to popping out of his face after he saw the backside of Guyunis; they became even more enlarged after Guyunis slammed into Trivit. His pupils came close to becoming non-existent after hearing Trivit yell; Trivit flew through air for a second before crashing through a bunch of bushes that crested a steep, and until now unknown, hill. Triskull winced with each sound that he heard of Trivit's descent down the hill then, after noticing that Guyunis was turning towards him, got himself ready for battle. He used just about all of the strength that he had in his legs to propel him forward as he rushed towards Guyunis; when he was a comfortable distance of two feet from the youngster, he held his hand out. His intention of trying to grab and then tear the hoodie that Guyunis was wearing off was never made; Guyunis leaped back in time to avoid being de-hoodied, then found himself falling backwards. Triskull yelled in surprise as he and Guyunis fell head-over-heels over one another as they went down the steep hill that Trivit was at the bottom of.

"Trivit!" Triskull yelled after getting to his feet.

"Forget me, worry about him!" TrivitVile yelled back.

At first glance, Trivit looked fine. He had a scrape or two on his forehead and he also had a bleeding cut to his left eyebrow; that was really all he saw on the first glance. Nothing but minor or superficial injuries that could be treated in nothing flat. When he chanced a second glance, he saw that Trivit wasn't fine and that he had more than just superficial or minor injuries. Trivit was lacking some skin on his right arm and the elbow of his left arm was jutting out from under the skin; Trivit was also standing funny, like he suffered a twisted or sprained or broken ankle during his fall down the hill. Trivit tottered in place for a few seconds before dropping to his knees. Triskull took a step towards him before stopping; he watched as Trivit placed his hand on the buckle of the belt that was around his pants. Right before his eyes, Trivit pulled the buckle of his belt off then held it to his lips.

Triskull watched no more; he wasn't allowed to watch or even listen to Trivit as he called his father through his belt-worn device. When the man that his father continued to call his son lunged in Trivit's direction he quickly got in the way; he and the man fought for two minutes before separating. The man took half a dozen steps back, shook his head, then tried to go around him. He barred him twice more; two more fist-fights and two more brief separations happened before a roar was heard that deterred their attentions.

Guyunis looked at the new arrival to the area while Triskull turned halfway around to look behind him—that action caused a major rift to happen in Trivit's father, TrobrencusVile. Triskull's action of turning halfway around caused his right ankle to become locked in place on the ground; the pain was enough to make Triskull pull back sharply. His falling to the side was simply caused by his body-weight and gravity; his ankle sang rather loudly all the while he fell to the ground and, really, so did he. Trobrencus looked at his oldest son first, then at the fallen Triskull, before turning his eyes towards Guyunis—who wasn't only backing slowly away but who also had a rather wide, comical smile on his face.

"Pop—situation! We need you!"

With Trivit and Triskull being the only ones separate from him and Bohir, he automatically knew who the "we" was in reference to and he also automatically knew that his son and Triskull had met with some sort of trouble so, instead of farting around, wasting precious time that could be used in getting to where his oldest son was, he grabbed Bohir then teleported to the location that the signal from his son's communicator had stemmed from. Trivit had no idea how much fear was placed on his shoulders; them five words that his son had used had caused many a scary scenario to happen in his mind.

His oldest son and Triskull being attacked by one of the critters that called the area home; his oldest son and Triskull having an encounter with someone that they couldn't handle; his oldest son and Triskull coming upon the dark-skinned man aka "Numbskull" beating up on one of Angel's sons; or worse, his oldest son and Triskull coming upon a certain man who dared to call himself Master Vile, who, quite possibly, hadn't had his "fill" of trying to kill his kin.

Bohir, his second oldest son, was very obedient in going to his brother after they arrived in the location where Trivit's message had stemmed from. Bohir took one gander at his surroundings then went to where he was needed to be. It was now his turn to go to where he was needed to be. He stripped himself of the green striped overcoat, the green vest, and the white, long sleeve, button down shirt that he was wearing as he walked forward; his eyes never left the dark being that was in front of him.

"You cheeky bastard..." he absently said in a different language as he advanced towards Guyunis. "You cause bad injuries on Angel's sons, you hurt Baruk, Gaajah, and Selik, then you break my nephew's son's back in two places—now you're trying to add my son and Triskull to that list? I don't think so—not by my watch!"

He looked at the man, who was still slowly backing away from him. The man was big. Strong. He'd put in a good fight, but he was confident in knowing that he'd give him a good run for his money. Should it have to be done, he was mad enough to put this fool in a coffin. Duru, his nephew's only son, was in the hospital again thanks to him. Poor Duru was battling a fracture of one of the vertebrae of his middle and lower back; he was in the hospital a long time now, lying face-down on a bed with his body supported by a sling that prevented any further damage from happening to his already delicate back. A vertebra in his neck had also sustained minor bruising, so his neck was currently in-cased in a brace to prevent further damage to that; the poor man was forced to miss out on so much.

The promise that he made to his young daughter was the biggie that he was forced to miss out on doing; Young Uevaa had spent most of the first four days of her father's stay in the hospital with her father. She refused to leave his side. Her father could speak, and he had limited mobility in his hands and feet, so he was able to interact with her—in the most basic of ways, of course. He was able to thumb away some of the tears that were falling down her face, he was able to pat her hand, he was able to give her a tissue, and he was also able to point and make gestures with his fingers as they spoke.

If not for the fool in front of him, his great-nephew never would of been taken to Zhiwanook Hospital. Duru wouldn't of been put in a body sling, he wouldn't have to have a urinary catheter in him, he wouldn't of missed his birthday... Shaam was Duru's constant visitor; his nephew was doing all that he could to keep his only son comfortable and he was also using his learned Healing abilities to shorten his son's tenure in the hospital. Cyla was doing her best to keep things in her husband's camp organized; she was keeping herself busy in looking after the kids, the staff, and she was also trying to look after her husband's ship. Cyla and her three young ones were Duru's second most-constant visitors, while he was Duru's third; Kuruk and his wife were currently in fourth place. Tazir was much too sore to do much of anything nowadays—due to the events that happened on the twenty-third of December, nearly all of the man's left side was bruised; Tazir had also lost nearly all of the skin on his left arm and thigh after being knocked out of the helicopter that his son, Hazaar, was in.

Tazir refused to go to Zhiwanook Hospital. Most of his time was spent in either taking medicated baths or in taking sessions in his medical chamber's medical table.

Cheshire Ubalki, the other victim of the "Berlin Chase"—as the humans and everyone in camp called it—, had healed well from being shot. He spent all of two days inside Tazir's ship before coming out; his movements were stiff and slow for all of a week before limbering up. He was back to his normal self now. Eldass Zultoa, one of Tazir's employees, who happened to be another victim of the "Berlin Chase", had also healed well from being shot.

"Wipe that grin from your face!" TrobrencusVile barked.

Before the fight even started, he knew he was in trouble. The man that was advancing towards him, in a threatening manner, was bigger than that Duru-guy; he was an inch taller, he looked very angry, and he had a lot more muscle on him than that Duru-guy had on him. The guy, who looked like a full-blown Zombie, had a square-shaped chest, that had visible veins crossing all over it. His six-pack was firm and nicely toned; he had rock-hard arms that were covered in thick muscle. His body matched the colors of his head perfectly, with the left side being a light blue color and the right being a puss-like creamy color. He had several patches of flesh that were either a dark blue or a dark purple color on his chest; there were several patches of dark red flesh that looked to be hanging down from his stomach, sides, and arms. There were more than a dozen scars criss-crossing his chest and stomach areas; his arms were also scarred up.

"He's a Zombie!" his mind screamed as he backed away. "Zombies can't talk! They can't walk as perfectly as he is and they're not as fit either!"

"Did you hear me? Knock the smile off—Now!" the Zombie said. Guyunis was automatically drawn to the man's lower lip. It flapped as the man spoke; the lip looked to of been grabbed, pulled back, and then shredded before being released.

He was only mildly aware of the fact that he had a big, toothy grin on his face. He was terrified; the grin was just a means of expressing that. A full-blown Zombie was coming towards him, a mild-form Zombie was nearby, and there looked to be a third Zombie, who looked strikingly similar to the one that was advancing towards him, at his side. The guy with the wings and the horns half-scooted, half-rolled to where the two Zombies, that were off to the side, were; it was like he was clearing the battle arena that was about to be used.

"Take the legs out—if he can't walk or run then he can't bite or scratch you." Guyunis thought as he started walking around Trobrencus. "A blow to the head will end the deal—Zombie's become the full dead after they've be de-headed."

"Kick his ass, dad!" the Zombie, who looked strikingly similar to the one that he was about to fight, said.

The first blow came as a complete surprise to Guyunis—he used that same, cat-like grace that he discovered in late-October after Trobrencus rushed at him. Trobrencus right-hooked him in the jaw; he saw stars and he also became slightly disoriented for a few seconds. His opponent took full advantage of his disorientation by throwing in half a dozen punches before finding himself reeling backwards.

A fist-fight that put all other fist-fights to shame happened between the two of them; even though he managed to get in four, good punches, the fight was quite one-sided. His new opponent caught his right eye twice, his jaw once, and his shoulder three times before finding his legs being swept out from under him. The man rolled away quickly, then leaped to his feet, then came at him again; when the man swung his fist, he was quick to get out of the way. Two more dodged blows happened before he found himself doubling over—he gasped, then started to wheeze, after the fist collided with his gut. His opponent, an obvious veteran of physical combat, wasted not a second in kicking his leg up after he doubled over. He was treated to a good view of the sole of the shoe that kicked him in the face; the sole of the shoe wasn't smooth—some of the jagged edges were worn down, so that saved him from a nasty cut to the face. Regardless of the shoe's worn-down, jagged edged, sole, he saw stars; he yelled as he fell back. He rolled away from the threat before he could think to do anything further to him. He slowly got to his feet, then shook his head, then looked at his opponent—who now looked to be getting ready to use his powers on him.

At first, he thought that the man was going to use a form of the known Energy powers on him. He struck a pose just before the cloud of red was released; he was quick to learn that he made a serious mistake in just plain standing there because, when the cloud of red struck him, he was automatically engulfed in pain. He roared right when the cloud struck him; an eruption happened all around him after it struck him, then a white ring formed around him that caused him to feel yet more pain. Red smoke rose from his body after he dropped to his knees; his blood came out of the twenty or so cuts that he had on his chest, stomach, and back. He took in several deep breaths before looking up; his opponent was gearing up another attack that looked similar to the one that he had just used—when he saw the mass of white zooming towards him he wasted no time in getting out of the way; one time of just standing in place, waiting for one of the man's attacks to reach him, was enough to teach him that that was the wrong move to do.

His opponent, he realized, as he dodged two more, cloud-like attacks, obviously had different powers than he and he was obviously planning on using them to gain an advantage in their fight.

"Mum—she was the one who told me to stay in the shield and to not wander far." he suddenly remembered. His aching body was racked in shivers after he realized that he had disobeyed her—not only had he left the safety of the shield but he was also engaged in battle with someone that he shouldn't be fighting.

A power that he had never seen before was used after he dodged the three, cloud-like attacks; his opponent threw his arms backs then, after holding them behind his back for twenty seconds, swung them forward. A series of yellow rings cruised towards him; he had time to hear their inner crackling noises before he was struck. Another roar of pain escaped him; he fought the urge to fall to his knees again then, when he achieved that feat, he shoved his arms forward. Blood seeped out of the many cuts that were on his body as he sent a volley of fireballs at his opponent. His opponent managed to elude most of his fireballs; two caught him on the leg and another caught his left shoulder, but neither caused much damage or deterred him from fighting him.

He made a portion of the ground rise then, after doing two, quick turns, kicked his leg out. Clods of soil and rocks flew towards his opponent—who, quite surprisingly, managed to dodge most of his sent attack. Only four clods of dirt struck his opponent; the man's cheeks and forehead started gushing blood at once after the four clods of dirt struck him. The man wiped the blood out of his eyes quickly before rushing in his direction. A series of crackling gray rings flanked his backside as he ran; he waited until the man was nearly on top of him before stepping out of the way. He stuck his foot out then took to his heels, after causing the man to trip and then go face-first to the ground.

"The shield! Get to the shield—he can't get in! You'll be safe if you—"

"Oh no you don't."

A pair of strong arms wrapped around his middle as he fell; his opponent, much like that Duru-guy, was a fast one. He had gotten to his feet after going face-first to the ground then he chased after him; after they collided with the ground, he was treated to being given a sort of pay-back for his prior action. His opponent grabbed the sides of his head then slammed him, face-first, to the hard ground twice before ripping him around to facing him. A barrage of fiery-filled fists rained upon him, after he was turned around; he tried to give as much as he was given to no avail... for a few seconds, that was. The first six punches did nothing to drive his opponent off then, at around the seventh or eighth punch, his opponent was driven off. The Zombie-man shook his head twice before coming at him again; as a way to tip the scales in his favor, he started using his legs and his learned powers. He used his legs to make an Energy Tornado, which caused his opponent to be thrown completely from his body. After being freed of the man's weight, he got up then got into position; four, raging fireballs—black-colored ones; the ones that burned like hell—were sent towards his opponent before he decided to create a wall of red energy in front of himself.

The Zombie-looking man wore a sneer as he rushed towards him; he waited until the man was ten feet from him before swinging his arms. He became like a pinwheel—his body stayed stationary as his arms swung back and then around. Small energy crystals flew at his opponent, who tried his best to veer away from them. When his opponent was two feet from him, he started sending out larger chunks of crystallized energy. His opponent stopped on a dime; he warded several shards of crystallized energy with one hand while he kept the other in front of his face. Two of the shards of crystallized energy opened two, good-sized cuts to the man's shoulder and upper right arm while another shard sliced a deep cut to his brow; he had just sent a volley of larger, crystallized energy at the man when he saw movement to his right. He turned quickly towards the horned one that was his former, unwanted walking companion; the guy's eyes went wide after he sent a large beam of purple-colored energy at him.

The intention for the horned one's sudden, brief involvement in the fight was quickly discovered after he drove him off; by turning around to face his former, unwanted walking companion, he lost track of his shield. The Zombie-man acted much like one of them fighting bulls that were used in Latin America. He charged forward, after his energy wall was dropped; he hadn't a chance to get out of the way or get back into position.

Knowing the situation that he was in, he wasted no time in taking a new stand against his opponent; he turned, then ran towards the shadowy area that was under a cluster of tall, branchey trees.

"You sure had a motor in them legs of yours back then." he remembered Hazaar saying one day a few months ago, after their mutter put some photographs of him and his bruders' track meets up on the wall. "You came close to matching several of Bile's track records, right?"

That was a yes. While Big Bro Bile's records were impressive, he came very close to matching them—he came close to "tapping" two of Bile's records while enrolled at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. The mile-run, which was still set at a sizzling 1:48:12, and the mile and a quarter-run, which was still set at a blazing 2:00:45, were the two records that he came close to "tapping" while being a student at the school; his track runs on them two meets had been five or so seconds under them counts.

A little bit of talk was generated from his track meets at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic; if he remembered correctly, it took three or four days per track meet that he participated in for everyone and everything to quiet down. His track runs at Goboshu's Academy of Meanness had generated a lot more talk than his track runs at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic and the reason for that was really very simple: every time he stepped foot on a track at the school, he shattered, or came close to shattering, either a previously made record or a record that was made some thousands or hundreds of thousands of years ago.

The tracks at Goboshu's Academy of Meanness hadn't only been longer. They were grueling; he raced on all of them. The two-mile and three-sixteenths was a long race and it was run over grass instead of synthetic dirt. The old record had stood at 3:03:54; he set it back to 2:53:53. A kid by the name of Bohir had set the record—which stood for a few hundred years before being broke by him. The two-mile and a quarter race had been another long, grueling run; it was held over plain synthetic dirt—that hadn't made for an easier race though. The old record of 3:20:04 was set by some guy named Crazan Duplaxen about four hundred years ago; he smashed it to bits. It was currently set at a nice 3:11:34. The three mile run over synthetic dirt, grass, and water was another grueling race; some guy named Trobrencus had set the record a long time ago. It was set at a 3:41:09. Another record smashing run was added to his list of track meets when he ran that race; the record currently sat at 3:26:56.

He had a total of six track records at Goboshu's Academy of Meanness. Like Bile's track records at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, they were all said to be untouchable.

"Think we need to match you up with Bile for a race one day." he remembered Hazaar saying on the day that the photographs of his and his bruders' track meets were put on the walls.

If he made it through the race that he was currently doing he might just take Hazaar up on that. Bile was pretty damn fast a few hundred years ago; he might just give him a run for his money. Both he and Bile were faster now; their bodies were figured out, and they had matured over the years. Had gotten taller and stronger.

He ran on, his legs pumping along, going from looking like legs to looking like black cloaks that seemed to be moving underneath him. He had his opponent by a good ten or so feet when he decided to stop; a barrage of thoughts ran through his mind like clockwork. He was allowed to go through all of them before his opponent slammed into him.

"Look at your pants—mum gave you those. They're ruined now; trash can time. Can't be worn anymore—won't mum be proud of you."

That was the first thought that ran through his mind.

"Look at your body—it looks like a broken glass bottle's been used on your face. Your bleeding all over, bet you'll be sore in the morning—won't mum be proud of you; she'll be as happy as a Lark when you walk in through the front door."

That was the second thought that ran through his mind.

"Going to take a while to clean them nice, expensive boots you're wearing. They're scuffed up now—they don't look new anymore. They look about ready for the trash heap. Won't mum be proud of that—she went out, spent all sorts of money on you for Christmas. Bought you new clothes and shoes and here you are... wearing clothes that are brand spankin' new that are now all messed up and in need of being thrown out."

That was the third thought that ran through his mind; the next two thoughts ran through his mind right when his opponent barreled into him.

"Stay inside the shield and don't wander far—that's what she said and, looky here, what's Guyunis doing now? Oh, he's disobeying his mum by not only being outside of the shield but by also being quite a distance from home and he's also fighting with someone that he shouldn't be fighting with."

The back of his head slammed against the ground right when the fifth thought popped into place. It was this thought that made him mad.

"You should be ashamed of yourself! All of this wouldn't of happened if you'd of just gone home after finishing your run. Did you? Oooooh no. You put little struggle in on stopping yourself from walking into that field of tall, yellow grass. Going through the shield and running up to them two freaks was done without a second thought. You only started thinking when the bastard that's beating you to a pulp came into the picture. Mum will be doing jumping jacks with her joy over all that you've done on your outing."

His opponent was slamming his fists into his face and chest now; he used all of his strength to push him off before getting to his feet. He gave the man a vicious glare before swinging his fist; while the man ducked, he didn't dodge his blow. The man had a right long ponytail growing out from the base of the back of his head; he unfurled his fingers after the man ducked to avoid his punch then swiped his hand at the item that was flying past. He was quite lucky on his swipe—not only did he catch the ponytail but he gave it a yank, which caused his opponent to yell out in surprise. Despite having his hair yanked, his opponent's balance wasn't deterred; the man lunged at him fiercely. He surprised him by not only laughing in his face but by also shoving him back. The man lunged at him twice more; he was pushed up against a tree on one of the lunges. He ducked after hitting the tree, then pulled himself to the right of his opponent, before turning to face him—his opponent, who was lunging at him, yet again, had come very close to hitting the trunk of the tree face-first but, at the very last second, he managed to stop the momentum of his lunge before tasting bark.

"Yukotpee mur diem carpe yum!" the man said after turning to face him.

He shook his head; the spell that the man had used was one taught at Goboshu's Academy of Meanness. The man must of been a pupil at the school, he realized as he mouthed the counter-spell to cancel the one that his opponent had used on him. Yukotpee mur diem carpe yum was a basic spell; it made one become partially blind and deaf. It was usually done during fights or, sometimes, during gambling. He mouthed the words to the counter-spell then ran at his opponent; he picked the man up then carried him a distance before slamming him down. The man coughed a wad of blood up as he stepped away from him.

"Wimblo blurey—"

"Contro diecees un borke loruy." Guyunis said, effectively cancelling and closing the door to any other spells being used on him.

The look of shock settled over the man's face for a brief second before disappearing. He closed his eyes then dropped to one of his knees while the man stood. He channeled all of his anger; he let it boil within him. He came down with a bad case of the flu the last time he used this power that only he knew he possessed; anger triggered this power and he was doing his best to gather all the anger that he currently felt so he could use it to trigger a response from the power that he was afraid of using. His anger made him feel hotter; his bloody, broken, and sweat-caked body went a degree darker as he channeled it. His eyes... the heat that he was feeling made it seem like they were about to explode from their sockets! His tired, achy muscles quivered. He twitched a few dozen times before going still.

His anger was released in one violent surge after his opponent placed his hand on him. A green and orange-colored fog shot out of his eyes after he opened them; the same fog came out of his mouth when he opened that.

The man was sent flying almost at once. A howl of surprise was heard; a shriek of pain came next. The great fog that was escaping him forced his opponent up, into the sky, then it sent him flying towards one of the trees that were in the nearby tree cluster. The tree shook after the man struck it; the man, who was now sporting a few nasty cuts to his chest, arms, and stomach, shook his head then pushed himself away from the tree. He got halfway to his feet before collapsing. Guyunis got to his feet slowly; he heard a low beeping sound that sounded so far off yet so close. He shook his head, then shuffled off, towards the shield. He tottered from one side to the next; he felt so weak, so drained of energy yet, for some reason, he also felt pleased with himself. He barely remembered entering the shield; when he found himself inside the shield, surrounded by tall shoots of yellow-colored grass, he quickly summoned the little strength that he had to teleport home. The act of teleporting to his family's house happened right when he collapsed; instead of his knees meeting against the hard ground they met against the soft carpet that was in his mother's bedroom. He blinked his eyes then crawled forward, towards his mother's bed, which seemed so very far away from him. He lost consciousness a few minutes later, after dragging himself onto the bed.


	39. Chapter 39

It was much like a zit that didn't want to go away; he couldn't stop the projector that was in his mind from playing the memory back and he couldn't ignore the fact that he had no say in re-living the memory that his mind's projector continued to play out for him. He was a virtual prisoner to this memory—had been for nearly a month now. The memory even played back in his sleep, so he had no relief from it even then.

Cyla, his daughter-in-law, would always start this memory off with a screaming message about how his son had contacted his grandson; while he wasn't able to understand most of what she said, he understood some of it to know that his only son had come upon some issue that revolved around one of his thirdborn grandson's missing sons. He, in the memory, would teleport to the location that his son had radioed from; a row of trees would obscure his view of what was going on for only a few seconds. He'd incinerate the trees then he'd step back to allow Tazir to kick their charred remains down. He'd do nothing more than stand in place afterwards; that was all he'd do for most of the rest of the memory.

His son had fought a gallant battle—one, of which, he looked pretty strong in and one of which he looked sure to win. He remembered gearing up for the cheering that'd happen after his son felled his foe; while his son was very efficient with his sword, his opponent wasn't. His son had the upper hand with that part of the battle; he hadn't had the upper hand during the second part of his battle, though. His son's opponent, the dark-skinned man, hadn't only won the second battle but he also wounded his son. Again and, this time, seriously. He didn't need to be told that his son would be in the hospital for a while; he only needed to look at his son's non-moving figure to know that something was dreadfully wrong.

He repeated the same routine that he did after his son's first battle ended—he went looking for a water source that went into the shield then, after finding such a water source, he leaped into the air. He tunneled under the shield then he tunneled right up to where his son's body was. While his son was able to talk he wasn't able to get up or move any of his extremities—meaning; his arms, legs, hands, feet...

The shield that was over the locale where he and his son were was taken down four times by him; his family, along with Kuruk's personal physician, came in on the first downing. Kuruk's personal physician took a look at his son before asking if he could take the shield—which repaired itself soon after it was taken down—down again. Most of his family went with the physician after he took the shield down; the physician was the only one to return. He had a foldable stretcher, and a neck brace, with him. The shield was downed for a third time to admit the physician again then, not long after the third downing, it was downed again—he, the physician, Tazir, Kuruk, and his uncle had moved his son out of the area on that last downing.

Taking his son back to camp was out of the question; Duru was moved to Zhiwanook Hospital afterwards.

"He was given the Royal Treatment immediately," he thought as he waited for his son's signal. "The doctors and nurses were quick, yet careful, in getting him on a regular hospital stretcher then they took him straight to the X-ray room. He was put in a body brace, with sling attachment, twenty minutes later."

His son was lucky; while having two broken vertebrae in his back, and a bruised vertebra in his neck, wasn't good, it was still better than the alternative—which was being dead. His son had a long way to go in recovering from having his back being broken and from having one of his neck vertebrae being bruised; he was doing all he could to keep his son happy and comfortable. He was also using his learned Healing abilities to shorten his son's tenure in the hospital. While his son's healing was taking a while the doctors and nurses were assuring him that his Healing sessions were paying off. The fracture points on the two broken back vertebrae's were closing up; it might take him another four or five sessions before the two broken vertebrae's were healed fully.

"Pubba," he blinked his eyes; his thoughts had caused him to miss his son's signal. He reached over to the table, that was under his son's face, then turned the page of the paper that his son had just gotten through reading before leaning back.

His son hadn't had the option of mobility when he was brought to Zhiwanook Hospital; he was completely paralyzed for all of six hours before limited movement of his hands and feet was noticed. All of his son's motor skills were working correctly—the brain scan, that was performed some hours after his admittance to the hospital, showed normal brain-wave activity; he could talk, and take in nutrients like a normal being, but he couldn't use his arms and legs. The two broken vertebrae in his back were the cause for his son's inability to use his arms and legs; his son was lucky to not be partially or fully paralyzed. If he moved, or if his opponent had kicked or moved him in any way, he _would_ be partially or fully paralyzed.

His son was hanging upside-down; had been for all of three weeks and six days now. A small tv table was under his face. The newspaper, that he was reading, was on the surface of the table. A foam cup, that was half-full of water, was beside that; the straw, that was sticking out of the cup, seemed to be mocking his son for some reason. The room that his son was in was meant for only one patient; the bed that his son was lying stomach-down on had a few sheets on it. The blanket, that was thrown over his son's body each night, was by the window. It was folded nicely.

A list of questions was made after it was deemed that his son was well enough to be questioned; he was the one to ask his son each question. Most of the questions revolved around Lhaklar, while the others were on the fight itself.

"Can't really explain Lhaklar's actions—thought he was trying to stay close to me at first. He ran off after the fight ended—that dark-skinned man followed behind him a few seconds later." his son said a few days after he was admitted to the hospital. "I didn't mean to make Lhaklar's arm bleed—after I showed up in the area, the humans, he, and that dark-skinned man panicked; they were running in all sorts of directions and they were bumping into one another. I swept my hand at Lhaklar—with all the bumping and jostling going on, I was worried that he'd be thrown to the ground and then be trampled on. My attempt in trying to get him out of harm's way caused four deep cuts to appear on his upper right arm. He refused to leave the area where I and that dark-skinned man were engaged in battle in; he received a cut to his right cheek from me as well."

His son claimed to of come upon the dark-skinned man trying to dish the final blow to Lhaklar. Tazir's son was found with one hand wrapped around the dark-skinned man's wrist; a sword was in the man's hand—it was a short five inches from Lhaklar's body. The few details that his son gave him in response to his question on how Lhaklar had looked had painted a pretty picture: Lhaklar was on the ground; there were a few bloody streaks on his chest, and one of his hands had looked to be bleeding. Tazir had come to the same conclusion as he on what Duru had come upon.

Lhaklar had obviously been fighting with the dark-skinned man and, obviously, he was beaten and pretty badly. Duru came upon the situation at just the right time to stop that fight's horrible conclusion.

"That Punk is a Power-Thief!" Duru said after being asked the questions that pertained to Lhaklar. "He used several forms of our Elemental powers during our fight."

That was more shocking than alarming; the Surfeit family was the only family that wielded the ability to use Elemental powers so, in a lot of ways, Elemental powers was a Surfeit-only power. No other being had a right of trying to learn or use the powers. The power could be spoken of in school; teachers could teach it vocally, but they couldn't train their pupils how to use the power. How that man was able to learn their family power was beyond him—Tazir had given a suggestion, after this shocking detail was exposed. His suggestion revolved around the man forcing his sons—who could all do the powers—to teach him their powers.

He wasn't sure if that was a correct suggestion or not; it didn't feel right to him for some reason.

"There were five humans with Lhaklar; two were female, while the other three were male. With Lhaklar and that Punk included, there were five males in the group."

Which made absolutely no sense at all. The male to female ratio was off; if what Duru came upon was a bachelor group then no females would of been present. There would of been some sort of fighting going on among the males—any and all that were associated with the group—if there were any females around... and especially so in the situation that his son had come upon! Duru claimed that most of the members of the group were scantily clad; the male humans were wearing nothing more than pants while the female humans were wearing lingerie. Lhaklar was also scantily clad; Duru had noted him wearing nothing more than a pair of pants. His son did claim that there was a bundle of clothing nearby, so it was possible that some of Lhaklar's clothing was around.

The signal, a simple little twirl of the finger, came. He turned the page of the newspaper then leaned back in the chair that he had frequented for most of the three weeks and six days that his son was in the hospital. He crossed one of his legs over the other as he thought about the events that took place on the twenty-third of December.

He and his son both knew about the events of what happened between Tazir and his two sons in Berlin—Trobrencus brought them a newspaper article that was written on the event, which they read more than once, and he also told them a few things that he was told. It was a surprise that no one that was involved in the chase had landed in a hospital; more than two people were shot at, Tazir was thrown out of a flying helicopter, Hazaar fell out of an out-of-control helicopter... it was a miracle that no one was seriously hurt, or killed.

The capital of Berlin was a sitting duck for his great-grandson. Tazir had caused the shield that was over the city to drop; Vile could of walked right on in. He could of conquered the capital and then the entire country afterwards yet, for some reason that was only known to his great-grandson, he hadn't. The capital of Berlin remained unprotected for six hours before a new shield appeared over it; Vile's six-hour long chance had come and gone without so much as a ka-boom.

As far as he and his son knew, Lhaklar and Hazaar hadn't been seen since. Lhaklar was involved in the chase—Trobrencus claimed that his father injured him sometime after the chase; his uncle didn't know the specifics on the injury.

"My son's assailant hasn't been seen since early-December either." he thought as a loud ruckus started in the hallway. "And Bile and Lazeer haven't been seen since late-October and Angel's whereabouts are still unknown... starting to wonder if that dark-skinned man isn't involved in Angel's disappearance."

It sounded like a procession of doctors and nurses were leading someone, who was either violently ill or who was just making a lot of unneeded noise, down the hallway that his son's room was on. The clicks of nurses heels and the scrapes of doctors shoes was loud, while the gasping and retching sounds, the not-so-quiet yells of the doctors and nurses that were in the procession, and the wailing of one who sounded feminine were louder. He stood up then crossed the room after the ruckus got louder; he was in the process of closing the half ajar door when the procession went past. A flash of purple was seen; a bunch of nurses that were huddled around the nearly hunched over figure of a man went past; two doctors that were escorting a man each brought up the rear. He closed the door, then stood in place. His son asked him what was going on; he didn't answer him for a while.

"Could of swore I saw Triskull just now." he said after a few minutes had passed. The procession had gone down the hall; it was quieter now with the door of his son's hospital room being closed.

"Don't be silly—he's on Earth, probably getting ready to sit down and eat lunch." his mind argued back.

There was only one being that looked like Triskull and that was Triskull and, for some reason, he continued to see the closer of the two men that was escorted by one of the two doctors down the hall as Triskull. The man was leaning on the doctor rather heavily; he was acting like he sustained a leg injury that hindered the ability to walk like normal and there was something up with his chest.

"That wasn't Triskull... Triskull's not here... he is not in Gamma Vile's second top-rated hospital." his mind told him as he turned to go back to his son's side.

"Sure looked like Triskull—he even had his horns and wings." he counter-argued with himself.

"You're tired. Your eyes are playing tricks on you—it's been a long, three weeks and six days; you need a long rest." his mind told him.

And boy was that true! He spent very little time in the sack nowadays; he mostly stayed up until late—worry over his son would cripple most of any chance to sleep for long—before going to bed. He might nap for an hour or two before getting back up again; he'd don his clothes then go to Zhiwanook Hospital to be with his son afterwards.

Frustration over his son being in the hospital again was the rest of the reason for his not getting much sleep. He had trained his son himself. He had stayed up long hours to teach his son how to use a sword, and how to wield his powers, and he sent his son to all of the schools that were under his educational resume. He spent days, and sometimes weeks, worrying over his son whenever he went out to conquer a planet or a galaxy. His son was so efficiently trained yet he was bested by someone that he should of been able to squash in nothing flat. Twice.

His son being beat the first time was overlooked; he came up with all sorts of excuses to explain the reason for his son's first defeat against the dark-skinned man. Duru hadn't done any conquering for a while now; he was out of shape. Duru wasn't prepared for his first battle. Duru was cocky during his first battle. Duru was a bit slow during his first battle. Duru had just gotten through training his three, young children; he was tired during his first battle.

He was forced to come to reality after his son's second defeat; all of them excuses were decent ones but they were all wrong. Even after having a training session with his three, young children, he was strong in his first fight; he wasn't slow or sluggish and he was prepared for both of his fights. While select forms of cockiness were shown in the family, none of the male members of his family were cocky during battle; his son wasn't cocky. He knew better. He knew what cockiness did and he knew how dangerous it was for one in battle to act cocky. Duru was in the best shape of his life. His son was strong in both fights yet he didn't come on top in neither of them; while his opponent had shown some weaknesses, and made some mistakes, he won both fights.

While he went to the chair that he had recently been seated in, he found himself unable to sit in it. His son's head was turned towards him; the neck brace was making his son's face look old and wrinkled, but that young, yet experienced, look was still in his eyes. There was no mistaking what his son was thinking; he was wondering what was going on. The ruckus that they heard a few minutes ago had gained his attention; he wanted to know what the ruckus was about and, honestly, didn't he too?

He stood beside the chair for two more minutes before deciding to leave the room to "stretch his legs". He told his son that he wouldn't go far then turned to go; the hallway, when he left his son's hospital room, was nearly, fully quiet. He looked down the hallway, towards the set of elevators,

before starting up the hallway. Towards where he saw the procession go.

"Zhiwanook is a good hospital; they refused the money that I tried to give them to be quiet on what's going on with my son. This is a very hush-hush type of hospital; why it's the second top-rated hospital on Gamma Vile is beyond me—they win the top slot by my vote." he thought as he went along.

He went to the left after reaching the end of the hallway; there was a loud crying sound coming from five doors down, he went to it slowly. The one that was crying was obviously female—he could detect the feminine under-sound to the cries very easily. A bunch of nurses were standing in front of a door; there was so much congestion in front of the door that the two nurses, who left the room in a hurry, had to force themselves through. A doctor had to do the same thing a few seconds later.

"Get a few buckets, Alleredinc!" the doctor, who just exited the room, yelled. "Aireba—get some blankets and a few bags of fluids!"

"Should I also get some bags of blood? With Mr—"

"We'll find out in a bit—get me what I asked for, quick!"

The doctor looked at him for only a second before turning and then muscling his way back into the room. He stopped, then stood motionless for a second, before continuing down the hall. The nurses, after he reached the room that they were barring, turned to look at him before turning back to look at what they were so interested in. He slowly pushed past the first three nurses then found himself having to stop after the next tier of three nurses refused to let him through. It took him nearly five minutes to get past all of the nurses. He wanted to turn and flee after getting past the nurses; seeing what everyone was so interested in did nothing more than make the pit of his stomach churn. He came close to hurling his lunch after seeing who it was that was in the room.

"Where are those fluids, blankets, and buckets I asked for?" the doctor, who was closest to his uncle, yelled.

"Heart-rate's elevated—a hundred and forty over sixty." one of the nurses that was in the room said.

"How are you feeling, sir?" the doctor asked his uncle. "Can you breathe fine? Do you need oxygen?"

"Blood pressure's low, Doctor." the nurse said right when his uncle shook then, after a moment's consideration, nodded his head.

There was a good reason for why his uncle's blood pressure was low; there was blood all over the fucking room!

A thick, syrupy trail of his uncle's dark olive green colored blood led from the room's open doorway; it led right up to where his uncle was. There was a pool of blood around his uncle's feet; his uncle's arms and legs were shaking rather sporadically and it did look like he was having a difficult time breathing. It took him a little while to notice that his uncle was pale; the light blue left half of his body was nearly white while the puss-like creamy right half of his body _was_ white. There was blood seeping out from his uncle's nostrils and from the corners of his eyes; every time his uncle opened his mouth, great globs and trails of blood fell out. The doctor applied the nasal cannula—the device that was used to deliver supplemental oxygen or air to a patient that was experiencing respiratory troubles—before leaping back; his uncle had just retched. A big, dark olive green puddle formed on his uncle's lap and on the bed that his uncle was sitting on; his uncle's sporadic shaking grew more violent after he retched.

He couldn't stop himself from doing it; just seeing his uncle retch blood was too much for him. He yelled his uncle's name then rushed forward. He was instantly restrained by two of the three doctors that were in the room.

He fought the two doctors as he took in further details of his uncle. His uncle, a man who wasn't as muscled as he, but who was still pretty strong and mighty, looked to of been in a fight recently. There was a mild, upper first or lower second-degree burn to his upper left leg; his left shoulder also had a mild, upper first of lower second-degree burn on it. There were cuts and bruises to his cheeks; the cut, that was on his forehead, was bleeding rather badly. There were two, good-sized cuts to his right shoulder and upper right arm; the cut that was on his uncle's brow looked horrible! His uncle's right eye was nearly swollen shut and his jaw looked bruised and slightly swollen.

The two doctors that had him by the arms were no push-overs. They were strong in their own rights; they had good holds on him and they were doing their best to get him out of the room. The two men, who were both rather young, wrestled him back, then turned him around, before finding themselves having to do it all over again. He was given the distinct privilege of seeing the other two injured folk that were in the room during his struggle to be free of the two doctors; his assumption earlier on where he thought he saw Triskull was proven correct. He was in the room and it _did_ look like he had some sort of injury to him.

Triskull was seated on one of the nearby counter-tops; his right ankle was propped on the counter and, from what he could tell, it looked to be both swollen and held at a funny angle. Triskull's chest looked badly burned; the dark blue flesh, that was on his great-grandson's chest, was either a charcoal gray or a black color. A rather beautiful, black-furred, goat-like nurse was tending to Triskull; his great-grandson was shaking his head over being asked if he needed a nasal cannula. He yelled after the nurse touched his discolored chest.

The other injured person in the room was Trivit; his uncle's adult son. Before the doctors pulled him back towards the door he had time to take in his cousin's appearance. Trivit had superficial wounds to his face—he had two, scrape-like wounds to his forehead and cheek and he had a bleeding cut to his left eyebrow. The more serious injuries were down lower on his body; he was lacking a lot of skin on his right arm and his left elbow was jutting out from under the skin. Trivit's left foot was lacking its shoe and sock; the pant-leg that was on that leg was also rolled up. The reason for the lack of shoe, sock, and the rolled up pant-leg was clear—the fibular had punctured the flesh of his cousin's ankle.

What happened to his uncle, his cousin, and his great-grandson for them to arrive so badly injured at Zhiwanook Hospital? He had no time to ask that question. The doctors that had him by the arms yanked him towards the door; the nurses that were congregating around the door got out of the way fast. He swung a fist at one of the doctors that had him; the man acted quickly in pulling his head out of harm's way, he then shoved him out of the room. The door was in the process of being closed when a feminine hand, that had manicured fingernails, that were a painted, purple and black color, grasped its edge.

"Let him go—he's fine! You hear me? He's fine!" Bahne Surfeit exclaimed in a very shaky, emotion-filled voice.

"Do you know this man, ma'am?" the doctor that still had him by the arm asked.

"Yes—he's my and my husband's nephew."

He didn't so much as turn to hurt the two men who were restraining him as much as he did to warn them to not touch him again. The two doctors held their hands up then backed off; he nodded his head then went into the room that his uncle, cousin, and great-grandson were in. Bahne, his uncle's lovely wife, who was currently suffering a makeup mishap, grabbed him by the arm. She led him to his uncle, who seemed to of gotten worse during the few minutes that he was battling the two doctors that were trying to take him from the room. The doctor that seemed to be in charge of his uncle's care eased Trobrencus back on the bed before stepping back. Trobrencus raised his hand when he reached his side; he was instantly surprised by how weak his uncle was when he grabbed it.

"What happened? Why's he like this?" ShaamVile asked after taking his uncle's hand.

"The same guy that your son fought nearly a month ago attacked my brother and Triskull. My dad was called—he started fighting him soon after arriving in the location that they were at."

Shaam turned in the direction of the young-sounding voice that answered his question; shock coursed through his body when he saw his uncle's second youngest son, Bohir.

Bohir looked very much like his father. His Zombie-like face had red and purple, flake-like, patches on both cheeks; there was a single, purple-colored, flaky patch of flesh high up on his forehead too. The two red patches of flake-like flesh, that were on the sides of Bohir's neck, were very noticeable. He had dark blue hair, that had creamy streaks in the back and bangs; Bohir's bangs were long and thin... so thin that his cream-colored eyes, that had puke-yellow irises and red pupils, could be seen. Despite the red and purple flaky patches of flesh, the youngster's skin was mostly a puke-yellow color.

The youngster was wearing a pair of black pants and a baggy, black velvet, long sleeve shirt that had a wide collar and lacing on the front. The black suede shoes that were on his feet looked rather old. Bohir was very sturdily built for his age; he had a lot of muscle on his arms, legs, back, and chest. He was in his upper teenage years; he was two thousand, eight hundred, and four years old. He stood six foot, two inches.

"Pardon, Bohir. Didn't get most of what you said." ShaamVile said. Actually, he heard all of what the youngster had said. His request was only made to sustain his desire in wanting to hear a double confirmation of what happened to his uncle.

"The—"

"The same guy that Duru fought on the tenth of December attacked me and Triskull. I called my father, who came. A fight happened that, to me, looked pretty one-sided; my father was blasted by a green power-source at the end of the fight." TrivitVile answered for his brother. "Bohir can tell you the rest—he was the one who retrieved our father."

A group of hazmat-wearing doctors and nurses hurridly entered the room; they said for everyone that wasn't of blood relation to leave before starting to work on getting his uncle stabilized. Most of the extra nurses, and two of the three original doctors, left the room; one of the hazmat-wearing nurses gave him and Bahne a hazmat suit then went back to tending his uncle. As the new group of doctors and nurses worked on his uncle he listened to Bohir talk about what he saw after going to his father's side; he didn't like what he was hearing one bit. It sounded like a nightmare come true; he bet Bohir would agree full heartily with that notion.

According to his uncle's young son, the dark-skinned man had seemed to of been bested by his uncle. The man was down on one of his knees; his head was down and his arms were loose and at his sides. Trobrencus had just placed his hand on the man's shoulder when the man looked up and then at him; a green and orange-colored stream of what Bohir called "fog" had come out from the man's eyes... at first, then it came out of his mouth. His father was flung up and then to the side by the "fog"-like stream; the steam only dissipated after his father struck a tree. The man left the area slowly and weakly; his condition and whereabouts were unknown. Trobrencus had tried to get up, only to collapse; he started acting sickly soon after collapsing. Bohir had rushed over to help him with no regard to his safety.

"My dad had several meters on his belt—he clipped them to his belt this morning after waking up. I watched him put them on; there were five in all. One of them was beeping madly when I ran up. I tried to get it to shut off; it only stopped working after I stepped on it." Bohir said.

"What was the meter that you stepped on? Was it collected—did you pick it up, or was it left behind?" ShaamVile asked. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that the meter held a clue as to why his uncle was so ill.

"I picked it up—my dad told me to. I didn't want to... I wanted to get him back to camp. I didn't want to stop to pick up a silly meter." Bohir, who obviously didn't know the importance of the meter, replied.

"What was the meter, Bohir? Is it in the room with us?" ShaamVile asked.

"They put it in a bag after we got here—it was a small meter; red in color, with black and yellow buttons and a white-bordered screen." Bohir replied.

"Bahne, do you know the meter that he's describing?" ShaamVile asked his aunt-in-law.

She did. She knew everything that her husband put on his belt by heart. Her husband never left a ship without putting his five meters on; it was a routine that he was adamant on doing. One of the meters revolved around the weather; it gave a basic telling on what was coming towards the area that her husband was planning on being in. He also wore a basic predatory meter that beeped whenever a hostile predatory animal was near; another meter that he wore revolved around how safe an area was—how firm or sturdy the soil was and how much weight a certain area could take before becoming unstable. A basic, biped-noting meter was also worn by her husband; that one told her husband how many bipedal beings were in the area—it basically gave her husband a head's up on what to expect from an enemy.

None of them meters was the one that her son had just described; like her knowledge of what meters her husband wore she also knew the designs of each meter by heart. The Weather meter wasn't the meter that her son had just described; that one was round in size and it had blue buttons, not red or yellow. The Predator meter wasn't the meter that her son was describing; that meter was also round, it had gray and white buttons. The Ground Stability meter was similar to the Predator meter in all aspects except one; there were no buttons on it so, like with the other three meters, it didn't match her son's description. The Intelligent Life Noting meter had small, white buttons and an octagonal screen that had no border around it; it didn't match the description either.

The Radiation meter, the meter that gave readings of a specific area's radiation levels, was the meter that her son had described. It was a square-shaped meter that had small, red or yellow-colored buttons. The screen was big and white-bordered; the meter that her son had just described wouldn't normally go off as Bohir had described unless there was a lot of radiation detected in the area that her husband was in. If that meter went off as loudly as her son had said it had then her husband was in trouble.

She nodded her head at Shaam's question then answered him quickly and clearly. She described what the device was then she described the reason why her husband wore it; she felt drained and sickly afterwards. Her stomach felt poorly; the men that were in the room must of noticed this. Shaam was quick in grabbing her by the arm. He escorted her to the room's sink, then stood by while she puked all of what she ate for breakfast that morning. While she was getting sick, the doctors worked her husband out of his pants, boots, socks, and underwear; when she was done getting sick, her husband was stark naked on the unsheeted hospital bed. Tears flowed down her face as she watched the doctors and nurses plug all sorts of machines to her husband; an IV drip was the next thing that was applied to her husband.

It was more than an hour before a sheet was thrown over her husband's naked body.

"Where's my shoes?" his bruder's loud, yet sleep clogged yell filled the house. He shook his head to rid himself of the yell as he went into his bedroom.

"Wherever you placed them last night," his mutter, who used a much more house-appropriate voice, called.

"I forgot where I put them!" his bruder yelled back.

"Guess you won't be going out then."

"Mom!"

"Lazeer, quit moping and complaining will ya!" Lhaklar's inside voice was firm, yet still teenage-like; he struggled to not emit a laugh over it. "Turn your room upside down—look in your closet, look under your bed. If they're not there, go downstairs then look in the living room, in the kitchen, in the dining room... look in the basement, they might be in the extra room that comes off the basement."

"Check the bathrooms and the attic and don't forget to check the Boogie Man's hinny for them." Bile said. Now he was really struggling to not laugh.

"Check Bile's drawers!" Hazaar chimed in. "They might be nestled in the brown rosebud that's in Bile's underwear—he keeps week-old underwear strewn around his room; he's the reason why mom has to light up an incense every afternoon and evening!"

"Fuck you, Turd!" Bile yelled back.

It was a nice, sunny, normal, eight forty-five in the morning. The calls from the birds were nice and pleasant; the sun was drying the rain-sogged ground—it rained a lot in the last few days and it was also right cold last night, so the sun was also working to warm things up. The grass was a nice, bright green; it grew a lot in the last week, so it was in near-desperate need of being mowed. Everything in the house was good. Was normal. Except for Bile and he, everyone was getting ready to leave the house for their planned activities; mum had plans to go out for only an hour or two. She had a few errands to run; she was also planning on mailing out a few bills that had yet to be paid.

Thanks to the rain, they were trapped inside; Lhaklar was headed out to spend some time with some of his friends, who were planning on going to see a movie in town. Hazaar was headed out with his remote controlled helicopter; his plan was to go to the park. He was going to fly his helicopter for an hour or two before coming home to resume working on the model that he was currently building. Lazeer was also going out to spend time with friends; what his plans were, no one knew. His youngest bruder had just said that he was going out with the twins, Kiefer and Killian Kassmeyer, and Eli Mendelsohn.

While Bile was free to go and do as he pleased he had elected himself to be the stay-at-home bruder for the day; the reason for that was pretty simple—he, GuyunisVile Lytro Surfeit, had gotten into some deep trouble two weeks ago. He had landed in the hot seat; had made his mum angry. He had gotten his first, lengthy punishment since being adopted and he had it all to owe on his refusal of talking and letting his mum know the reason for why he came home looking the way he had.

With the exception of his knowing that he was involved in a fight, he wasn't able to remember much of anything that happened to him when she found him. His mum had found him all curled up on her bed some thirty minutes to an hour after he came home; his many cuts had bled on her blankets and sheets, but that wasn't the cause of her screaming bloody murder though. She screamed because of him and his appearance; he looked like something that a dog had grabbed, thrown around a few times, chewed, and then spat out. Her first concern wasn't about the events that caused him to return home looking the way he had; she was concerned for and only for him—he was helped to his feet then he was helped from the room that he was found in. Mum took him to the upstairs bathroom, where a steaming hot bath was drawn for him. His tired, achy body had no more touched that steaming hot water before he screamed; while his scream wasn't as loud as hers, it was still loud enough to wake one of the neighbors, who was napping at the time of his being discovered in his mum's bedroom.

It was no surprise to him on learning that he fainted after getting into that bath; his first, real recollection over what happened to him happened after he came-to from his second fainting episode.

His mum hadn't asked him a thing on what happened to him until some hours later; she insisted on his resting and recovering from whatever mishap he had—sleep was the very thing that he did. He took a good, long, four-hour nap before being aroused from the nightmare that he was having; his mum gave him some Tylenol when he complained of having a major headache. The questioning, and then his mum getting angry at him, happened next.

The events of the fight—his blind exit of the shield, his attacking that first zombie, he fighting with that horned guy, the man that he would later do battle with showing up, he fighting that full-blown Zombie-man, and his use of the power that he was afraid of—were clearly remembered after he woke up from his nap; even though he remembered the events of what happened to him, he plain refused to tell his mutter a thing. His mum didn't like his refusal to talk on what happened; she did her best to get him to talk. She did the promise thing—the I'll-make-you-all-your-favorite-things-to-eat routine, or the I'll-make-sure-to-make-all-the-bad-pains-go-away routine—then she promised to get him a little something at the store—a model, or some pants to replace the ones that were thrown away during his nap, for example—then she tried the pull-of-the-emotions thing on him; she got firm on him after he continued to keep the happenings of what happened to him to himself. He was grounded after nearly an hour of back-and-forth banter; the first lengthy grounding of the year 4101 was given to him—he was grounded for three weeks.

"When you decide that you've had enough of keeping things to yourself you know where I am." his mum said after performing a spell on some of the things—his CDs, his models, his magazines, his mini-stereo, his tv, his books, his smokes—that he had in his room. If he so much as went near any of them things, he was zapped back; he was also not allowed to interact with his kitten. Lhaklar, for the last two weeks, was taking care of Sabine. He wasn't allowed to watch any tv at all, he wasn't allowed to leave the house, and driving the i8 BMW was out of the question.

Basically, he was to just wake up, eat his meals, then do the chores that he was either told to do or that his mum had written down for him to do. Either one of his bruders would elect to be the pesterer of the day or his mum would assign him one of his bruders; his either elected or assigned bruder would bug him apey all during the day. He'd follow him around as he did his written or said-to-do chores; he'd bug him crazy, he'd ask him all sorts of questions, or he'd get on his nerves. The bruder bugging thing was just something else added on to his punishment—something else added on just to make his three-week long grounding more miserable.

That morning, the twenty-secondth of January, had started normally for him. Bile's loud ass alarm clock had woke him and his family up at eight o'clock; he got up, got dressed, did his routine in the upstairs bathroom, then went downstairs to see if there was a note stuck to the door of the refrigerator for him or to hear the list of chores from his mutter. No list of chores were on the refrigerator and no chores were given to him vocally when he reached the dining room and kitchen; his mum had just told him to sit at the table. He did so with no lip. Breakfast—pancakes, scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and four slices of bacon—was set in front of him and his bruders five minutes later; he ate his breakfast quietly then he was excused. He went upstairs, to his bedroom—where he was now.

He went to his bed then, just as Lazeer ran past, cheering loudly about how he had found his blessed shoes, flopped down. He laid on his bed, on his stomach, for a minute or two before rolling over; he crossed his arms, then placed his chin down over them, then sighed loudly. It wasn't the first time that he considered going to her; breaking out in a rash, letting everything that happened to him on the eighth of January out. He guessed that it was pride and fear that caused him to keep it all in; the fight with that Zombie-guy was tough and he came very close to being beat. If not for the power that he was afraid of he would of probably been killed. He guessed he had a lot to owe to his hidden power; the fact that it made him go nearly blind, completely deaf, and caused him to feel "fire" every time he swallowed was bleak in comparison to what he did with it.

His fear over telling her the reason for why he returned home looking so bad revolved around his scaring her and making her so mad that her chest hurt again; he didn't want his mum to be sent to the hospital. He didn't think he could sleep, much less live a day without having her in his life. She was his mum... He loved her just as much as his bruders did; he didn't want her to hurt and he didn't want to be the cause of her getting or being hurt. It was his fear of her getting or being hurt by what he did on that day two weeks ago that kept him from exposing the facts on why he returned home looking the way he had.

Boom! Bang!

The front door opened and then slammed shut after one of his bruders left the house. It opened and then shut normally after another of his bruders left a few minutes later; the house grew very quiet afterwards. He was left to his thoughts, and to the few minutes that he had before having to get down to business in doing whatever chores he was given to do for the day. He sighed twice, then rolled over to his back, and then side, before returning to his stomach. He then closed his eyes. The idea of going back to sleep, of just slipping into that black void that was sleepness, crossed his mind once or twice as he lie on his bed; while he loved his new life, and his new family, he didn't really like the idea of being punished. He hadn't meant to go out and get into a fight. He hadn't meant to return home looking like something a dog had chewed on. He hadn't meant for his new pants and boots to get messed up. He hadn't meant for any of what happened on the morning of the eighth of January to hap—

"G?" the hand that was placed on his bicep was smooth, feminine, and very much his mutter's. He opened his eyes; a wide smile was instantly spread across his face. His mutter, looking just as lovely as ever, was right in front of him. To not smile at someone he loved so much was a crime; he couldn't stop himself from doing it.

"Hi," he said back.

"What're you doing lying down at this hour, Guy?" his mutter asked him.

"Though-k-t I'd just lie down for a bit before getting-k that grass cut, mum." he replied.

Lazeer went out right after putting his shoes on; he hadn't bothered in saying goodbye or in opening or closing the door silently. She was a bit miffed over that, and she had a mind to get on him for opening and then letting the door close so loudly later on, after he returned home. Lhaklar left the house nicely, quietly, and maturely; she hoped that he had a good time on his outing with his friends. It was just her, Bile, Guyunis, and Hazaar in the house now—although the latter one was gearing up to leave now. He was slowly getting his stuff together; his helicopter and its remote control were safely in a box with the rest of the stuff that her thirdborn was taking to the park with him. The house was going to be lacking a Hazaar here in the next five minutes, she presumed.

Bile was downstairs; waiting for Guyunis to come down. She only went up to see if Hazaar was having any trouble in getting ready for his outing; finding her adopted son on his bed, lying flat on his stomach, with his chin nestled neatly on his folded arms, was a shock. She had never envisioned herself as a bad or overly stern mother, so she didn't rushed in to tell him to get off his rump. Guyunis was still grounded; he had a week to go before he was free of his punishment, but that didn't mean that he couldn't have any breaks or any time to himself. Instead of rushing into his room, she walked in slowly, carefully, and silently; she only made her presence known after placing her hand on her son's arm. Her son was still on the bed; his chin was still nestled on his arms. She was by the foot of the bed, on her knees, just a mere four inches from him.

"I should call the cops—that smile of yours is contagious; it's going to infect us all." she said. The smile stayed on her son's face for nearly thirty seconds before slowly fading away.

"Mum, I swear, I'll ge-k-t the grass done soon. I'm no-k-t putting it off." Guyunis said back.

"The grass is getting taller by the second, G. The longer you lie here the taller it gets—we'll be walking through a field in nothing flat." Angel said back. She reached a hand towards her son when a lock of his black hair fell over the left side of his face. She brushed the lock of hair out of his face slowly, tenderly. "Seems that every time I look at you your hair's gotten longer, and fuller."

"Really? I haven't no-k-ticed." Guyunis said back.

His face had healed marvelously well; one could barely tell that he was in a fight two weeks ago. Her heart went out to him when she found him all curled up on her bed. He had looked so peaceful. If not for the blood that was pooling around him, she would of left him be. She wouldn't of screamed and she wouldn't of known about his condition for a little while; just the sight of blood on her bed, and her son lying in that pool of blood, had scared her. The scream that came from her hadn't only been heard by everyone in the house but by everyone on the street.

Guyunis's lips were badly swollen. His cheeks were badly cut and there were two deep cuts to his forehead and to the sides of his face. There were all sorts of minor cuts and puncture marks on her adopted son's face too. She had nightmares for days on what her son had looked like! Just finding him looking like that was horrible... and all of that just barely scraped the surface.

Her adopted son's jaw started to swell an hour after she found him curled up on her bed; his right shoulder was very badly bruised and cut while his left shoulder was just as badly cut. His stomach was all bruised and cut and sore; there were four, deep cuts to his back and there were more than a dozen cuts to his arms and legs. All of the cuts that he had on his body were bleeding—she was still surprised that he hadn't bled to death, the cuts were that damn bad!

A steaming hot bath—which caused her son to scream bloody murder—and her using all of her learned Healing abilities to heal her son of his injuries had helped him some. He still had some bruising and some of the deeper, bigger cuts on his body; the cuts were probably going to scar over, but he would live, thank goodness!

"I see a cloud on that face of yours, what's wrong?" Angel said. Her son blinked his eyes then sat up.

"Nuthin'," Guyunis replied, quickly and defensively.

It seemed to be the same old thing with him. The plain deed of refusing to come clean with her; the telling of what happened to him. She felt she could talk to him until she was blue in the face and still not get anything of what happened to him two weeks ago and that, in itself, made her feel both pity and frustration. What was it that he was keeping to himself that was so damn important to not speak of? She was his parent; he could speak to her about anything. She wouldn't judge or get on his case until after the last word was spoken. She loved him like one of her own and she saw him as one of her own and, right now, she was hurting because of his refusal to "let the cat out of the bag".

"You know, when I told you to go out and mingle with the humans, I didn't mean for you to go out and pick fights." Angel said, trying to pick her way into her son's hard shell. "Mingling doesn't include fighting, I'd prefer for you to stay home than to go out and get into fights and I'd prefer for you to not hang around people that cause trouble. I love you, I want the best for you, and that does include the best of friends and the best of environment to grow up in."

"Mum—"

"Shhh, now baby. Let me talk." Angel said. She felt like she had just gotten a good hold in on her son's hard exterior shell. It was now time for the gentle chiseling to happen. "You make me feel like I've failed you. You've come home more than twice looking badly beaten; you refuse to tell me what happened for you to come home looking all beat up. I'm getting really worried about you, G. I might be able to look past one of my children coming home looking beat up once but I can't when one of them comes home looking beat up four times.

"I know you're a boy, and that you're going to get into some sort of trouble during your out-of-the-house activities, but I can't see why such a well-behaved boy like you is going out, getting into fights for no reason. You make me worry over you, son. I'm only here to help you, I can't do that unless I know what's wrong."

"I can't tell you, mum." Guyunis said, his voice sounded choked up. He sounded like he was about to cry.

"Why the Heavens not? You've always been able to talk to me—if you're afraid that I'll get mad at you then let me tell you something; I can't be any more angry with you than I am now." Angel said. Guyunis looked at her briefly before turning to look out his open bedroom window. "I don't like my children keeping things that are beneficial to their health from me. I'd prefer for my children to be open with me—I can see some secrets being retained... we're all entitled to holding our secrets, but, G, the secrets that you're keeping inside you aren't the type that you should be keeping from me."

She decided on a slight change in subject when he said nothing back.

"You know you wasn't grounded without a good, plausible, reason. Right?"

"Yes,"

"I don't like punishing my young, G. I like for my young to be happy and punish-free; not going out looking for trouble that could get them badly hurt or killed or hanging out with a trouble-making crowd." Angel said. Her son turned his head down, towards his hands, which were folded in his lap. "I said at this time last year, after I signed your adoption papers, that I wasn't going to let you run around like you've lost your head. I meant that, baby. I'm your mother. I love you, I care for you, and I'm going to do my damnedest to make sure you are safe. With you going out, picking fights with the humans, you're not being safe. I feel like I've failed you in a bunch of ways, that being one of them."

"You haven't failed me, mum." Guyunis said back. He looked at his hands for a minute or two longer before looking up. He swallowed hard then turned to look at his mother.

Thanks to the door of his brother's bedroom being closed, he was blocked from hearing what they were talking about... for about two minutes, that was. He mouthed the spell that allowed for one to hear-in to what others were saying when they were in a closed room, or trying to speak in private, quickly; his jaw became set soon after he mouthed the words to that spell. What he was hearing he couldn't believe; he had only come up to see if everything was alright. To see if his dear mama needed help in weaseling Guyunis into working shape or to see if Hazaar needed a hand in carrying anything out of the house. Instead of being a helping aid he was an eavesdropper; what he was hearing he didn't like.

Half of him had expected to hear his brother being given a lecture; while Guyunis had acted mature in accepting his three-week punishment he _had,_ in private, acted out his displeasure in being grounded. Guyunis had actually gotten off easy; instead of spending the whole of the last two weeks doing chores, he actually only got a week of chores. Their ma had forced him to stay in bed for the first week of his grounding. The other half of him had expected—and hoped—that his mother was just talking to Guyunis. Setting some things straight, maybe even giving him some comfort and advice. Up to the conversation that was going on in his brother's bedroom, he didn't know the specifics on what happened to his brother on the the tenth of December and the eighth of January. Now that he knew what happened on them days, he was angry and he wasn't the only one that felt that emotion—it sounded like his mother was about to hit the roof.

Guyunis started speaking on what happened to him two weeks ago first; he said that he had unknowingly left the shield after seeing "some horned, winged guy with a Zombie". He intercepted the "Zombie"-looking man, then he found himself fighting a bigger, taller, stronger "Zombie"-man. Guyunis claimed that the bigger, stronger, taller "Zombie"-man was the one that injured him so badly.

"What did this "Zombie-man" look like, G?" his mother, who seemed to be trying her best to not blow her top, was asking Guyunis.

"Tall—abou-k-t six foot, four inches. Looked like a full-on Zombie with all the works—flaky pa-k-tches of skin; droopy-like, shredded lower lip; dark purple hair set like a mullet."

"Trobrencus!" Bile thought frantically. "He fought his father's uncle, oh shit!"

He came close to barging into his brother's bedroom after his brother started talking about the happenings of December the tenth. The shock that he felt over his adoptive brother getting into a fight with his father's uncle, who, technically, was his great-uncle, never had a chance to fizzle out; the shock over Guyunis getting into a fight with his older, half-brother—Duru—settled right on top of the first shock that he felt easily and perfectly. Anger joined that shock after he learned that Lhaklar was apart of the happenings that happened on the tenth of December.

Instead of barging into the room he turned and fled; he went down the stairs, then went right on into the kitchen for a "cool down" drink. If he stayed put, he would of learned that his brother had more than one contact with Duru and that Hazaar was involved in what happened on the twenty-sixth of November.

"I didn't leave the shield to figh-k-t him, mum. I swear—Lhaklar and I were inside the shield when he showed up! I don-k-t know how but that guy was in the shield, mum!" Guyunis babbled nearly incoherently after Bile went downstairs.

"Calm down, G. I'm listening, I'm in shock over what you're telling me but I'm not going to voice any opinions until you're done." Angel said. Her mind was nearly a blank; she was so in shock over what was told to her that she could barely think straight. "Your brother said nothing on Duru being in the shield—he said that you was beat up by a bum." she said nothing more for nearly three minutes. She let her brain cool down before trying to speak rationally. "Duru—the guy you fought—is rather experienced in his Elemental powers; he probably got in after finding a weak area in the soil. Were there any water sources—rivers, creeks, or streams, meaning—in the area where your and his fight took place in?"

"No, just these two lakes. One big, the ot-k-her small." Guyunis answered.

"Was there anyone with him?"

"No, jus-k-t him." Guyunis said. He went quiet for a few seconds before blurting something that his mother was barely able to understand. "I didn't want to fight him! I though-k-t Lhaklar was going to do that because, you know... he's my older bruder and older bruders are suppose to protect their younger bruders. When the freak turned on Lhaklar I... couldn't stop myself. He was... I mean, I thought he was going-k to hurt Lhaklar and—"

"You took it upon yourself to protect him?" Angel said. Guyunis nodded his head. "G, it doesn't matter how old you are or where you stand in age with your brothers. If one of your brothers is being harmed, or if you think one of your brothers is being harmed, you have all right in protecting them. While I'd much prefer for you five to not fight I do understand that you five have needs and wants on wanting everyone in the family to be safe."

Thanks to Bile leaving without undoing the spell that allowed him to hear-in to what was being said in Guyunis's room Hazaar was able to hear some of what Guyunis said when he started telling their mother what happened on the twenty-sixth of November. Hazaar made off with his tail firmly tucked between his legs—he figured that that was the best thing to do. He had plans for that day; getting yelled at, and possibly being grounded for not telling the truth, was not among his planned activities for the day.

Guyunis fought the urge of wanting to drape himself over his mother's lap and plead insanity; just telling the tales of what happened to him on the eighth of January and the tenth of December was hard, now that he was at the homestretch, he felt the weights all dropping down on him. This confessing thing was hard! He was having a hard time in going forward and in not chickening out; he knew it had to be told, and he also knew that his mother needed to know everything that he was telling her, but, still, it was so hard and, now that he had gotten this far, he couldn't back out or down. He wasn't so much afraid of being rejected or yelled at; so far, he hadn't been yelled at, but he could see it in his mother's eyes that she was angry at him. He was afraid of being told to pack his things and leave the house; his fighting with them two guys was bad and his keeping the facts of what happened on the days that he fought them two guys on was also bad. Lhaklar and Hazaar might get in some trouble, but he feared that, since he was the main one involved in the fights, he'd get the most punishment.

All of what he told her was true; it looked like she believed him. He grabbed his pillow as he mustered the courage to tell her what happened to him on the twenty-sixth of November. He pressed his pillow against his chest and stomach as he told her everything that happened to him and Hazaar when they went to Daxlanden to pick mushrooms for his mushroom gravy. It took him five minutes to get it all out; he felt drained, utterly exhausted, when he was done.

"You and Hazaar came home saying that his re-injured hip and all your cuts and bruises came from you two's rough housing; you two claimed that your rough housing got too rough, was the fight the cause for all them injuries?" Angel said. Her face was set, firm, serious. Guyunis swallowed twice before answering her question.

"Not all," Guyunis admitted. "I caused Hazaar's hip to be hur-k-t again—I didn't mean to throw him over the stream, mum. We were playin', you know. All of my cu-k-ts and bruises came from the fight."

"I see." Angel mused. She rubbed her chin then leaned forward. "So, from what you've just told me, your and Duru's first fight happened after he went after Hazaar. Like with the second fight that you two had, you was just trying to keep him from hurting your brother?"

"Yes, mum." Guyunis said. "He came out from the hole he created then he went af-k-ter Hazaar. He grabbed Hazaar then he swung at him. I rushed in to... you know."

She was quiet for a while; the processors upstairs, in her brain, processed all of what she was just told slowly, yet efficiently. She was angry, but she wasn't angry at Guyunis fighting Duru to protect Lhaklar and Hazaar. She was, more or less, angry over his not telling her the truth on what really happened on the three days that he came clean on on why he came home looking so badly beat up. She was also angry at Lhaklar and Hazaar; they were involved, yet they lied to hide the truth of what really happened on them days too. As far as she could tell, neither Bile or Lazeer had any involvement with what happened on the twenty-sixth of November, the tenth of December, and the eighth of January; Guyunis hadn't mentioned them in his confessions.

She couldn't get on Lhaklar or Hazaar now. They were out of the house; she'd have to wait until they got home to confront them about their telling false truths on what really happened to their brother. All she could do right now was go by her way, do what she planned to do that day, then come home and wait for her sons to return.

"Instead of keeping your lips sealed on what happened between you and Duru, and then you and that "Zombie-man", you should of told me what happened, G." Angel said after a full five minutes had passed. "You, Lhaklar, and Hazaar know better than to cover-up things like fights—the lies pile on you, weigh you down."

"Sorry, mum." Guyunis mumbled. He placed his pillow back where it was suppose to be before standing up. Angel stood up with him.

"Go do the grass. When you're done with that tell me; I'll give you something else to do afterwards." Angel said as she left her son's room.

She went downstairs slowly. She told Bile, who she found in the kitchen, hovered over a glass of lemonade, to just stick around to keep an eye on Guyunis that day, then she grabbed her purse and car keys. She did her best to take her sweet time in doing the errands that she planned to do that day. The payment for the insurance that was on her and her sons' cars was mailed out, and so was the payment for the house's insurance. Bile had put a bug in her ear about a knife that he was interested in—it had a turkey foot for a handle and a short, dull-looking, horn-like blade for a blade; why her oldest son wanted something that looked like that was beyond her, but she looked into it and, since her oldest son was so well behaved over the last few months, she decided to go on and get it for him, so the third envelope that she mailed out had a money order for the knife in it. Bile would get his "turkey-footed handle knife" in four to six weeks... if it was legit, that was.

She drove to the store next; it was amazing how fast food went in the house. With having five teenage boys now instead of four, she was constantly having to make pit-stops to the store to pick up things that they were low on. She got everything that they were low on, she paid for it—a whopping €157.09; each store trip seemed to be getting more and more expensive now too—, then she took it all to her car. Before heading home, she made another pit-stop; this one was at a local clothes store. She had worked a spell on Guyunis's boots to make them go from being ruined to looking just like new again, but she hadn't been able to save the pants that he was wearing on the day that he and Trobrencus had their fight. She spent all of twenty minutes looking at the pants that were on the store's shelves before picking four that she thought were her son's style; she paid for them then went to her car.

As she had hoped it'd do, the driving around, paying the bills, getting things for the pantry, and some pants for Guyunis, had helped mellow her out. Her former anger was nearly gone now; she was still felt frustrated over her sons not telling the facts, but she wasn't angry-angry at them anymore. She turned the radio—which was blaring the entire time she was out doing errands—off when she turned onto the street that she and her family lived on; she drove on in quiet and peace for a little while. It wasn't until she saw the extra car that was parked in the driveway that went to her and her family's house that she thought any thoughts.

"Miss. Irene, how are you this morning?" Stefan Leinart said after getting out of his gray-colored, two-door, Elantra Coupe X5.

"Mr. Leinart, doing well—you caught me doing a few errands; did you just arrive, or have you been sitting here for a while?" Angel asked.

"Just got through pulling up the drive," Stefan replied. Angel sighed in relief. "Need any help in getting anything inside?"

"Oh, no. Think me, Bile, and Guyunis can manage. Thank you, though." Angel said. As if on cue, her two sons came out to help unload the car.

There was a lot and, while she and her sons tried to get it all, they did find Stefan weaseling his way in on helping them get everything in. Angel was automatically suspicious of the man; he would normally call to tell her that he was on the way over and, normally, when she said that she and her family didn't need his help on doing a specific something, he respected that wish. Her suspicion of the man was upped after everything was brought in; he went outside for a few minutes then, when he came back in, he had a small cardboard box and several hefty, white bags with him. He placed the box and the hefty bags down in the living room, near the sectional couch, then went into the kitchen to help her and her sons in getting everything that was in the bags put away.

Bile seemed to feel the same as she about Stefan's actions. Guyunis looked tired; he didn't seem to catch on to Stefan helping them take the groceries in or putting the groceries away. They had just gotten the groceries put up when Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer came in through the front door; her three sons jowled one another loudly, then they became even louder after noticing their visitor. Angel pulled Lhaklar and Hazaar to the side for a quick chat on their not telling her the truth on what really happened on the days that they were with Guyunis when he fought Duru then she and they returned to the dining room. Angel grabbed the bag that had the four pairs of pants in it from the kitchen counter; she walked it over to Guyunis before taking a seat in one of the dining room table chairs.

"Grass looks good, G. You cut it well." Angel said after sitting down. "Thought you'd need those; you're released from your grounding, think you've learned your lesson."

"Thanks mum and yes, I have. I'll behave now—no more fights, I swear." Guyunis said back, excitedly, yet seriously.

"Good boy—now you stick to that promise and you'll be fine." Angel said back. That ended the subject on that matter. She turned her attention to their visitor next; the man had practically been ignored the last few minutes. "Mr. Leinart, I apologize for leaving you on the hang. Things get busy here after I go shopping."

"I bet, Miss. Irene. Same thing happens at my place after my missus comes in from a trip to the store. I practically can't get a word in edgewise after she comes in—the kids just hound Rosa, poor thing." Stefan said back.

An awkward silence filled the room. Stefan looked at the family and the family—or, more specifically, just Angel—looked at him. The silence continued for all of two minutes before Stefan spoke again.

"So, can I see all of you in the living room for a minute? I haven't seen nor spoken with any of you folk in so long—I have a few things for you all; late Christmas gifts from a friend to a friend."

He led the way into the living room, the family mumbled among themselves for a few seconds then followed him slowly and silently; he was quick to note that they acted like they had never received a gift from a friend before. That made him feel anxious. While it was true, that it was mostly family that looked after their own, and that went out and bought things for their own, there were a few out there that broke that rule; only when he got close to a certain someone did he become one of them few individuals. He and the Irene family knew each other well. They were on good terms with one another and he couldn't dismiss the close feeling that he had with them. The family had gone through a lot in the last few months, yet they were still here. Living in his country, going by their business, and remaining in contact with him. Neither he nor they had dropped one another like most other folk would—that spoke volumes for him.

While he was curious over Guyunis's involvement in fights he kept his mouth shut. Whatever happened in the Irene house was their business; he was only allowed to enter into their business when they either invited him to speak of it or when they spoke it. He wasn't invited to speak on the matter and Miss. Irene had spoken vaguely of the fights that her adopted son was involved in; it was obvious that the family wanted to keep the details of that area to themselves. He was going to respect that.

He had actually meant to bring all of the stuff that he had for the family over some weeks ago but, thanks to that one alien bringing the shield over Berlin down, and thanks to Bettina Gottlieb crawling all over his back about how dire the security issue was in their country, he hadn't been allowed to. He had barely been allowed to spend time with his family over the holidays; his cellular phone was going off the hook constantly, his beeper was beeping crazily, and his email had practically been bombarded by email after email by all of the people that headed his government's top branches. Except for one item that he brought into the house, everything that he bought for the Irene family had just sat in his family's attic; he had to "steal" away from everything—work, his family, Bettina Gottlieb, and the other people that headed his government's top branches, etc.—to come see the Irene's.

"Alrighty," he said after taking a seat on the sectional couch. He grabbed the bag that was closest to him then started sifting through it. The first thing that he pulled out was for Hazaar; it was small thing, but he had a feeling that his young friend would enjoy it. "Hazaar,"

Angel watched her children closely for any rude antics; she sighed after Hazaar went forward for the small box that Stefan was holding out for him, she sighed again after her son thanked their friend then she found herself sighing again after her son got excited after opening the box. Mr. Leinart had gotten her son one of them stone turtle statues that would normally be placed on either a person's porch or in a flower or vegetable garden. The statue—which Hazaar insisted was a tortoise instead of a turtle—had a tall and broad shell; the sculpted head and limbs were long and finely detailed.

Hazaar was also given a replica of a prehistoric Henodus turtle that was half the size of the creature that it depicted; Hazaar acted just as excited and thankful over that gift too.

Her sons had enough models to keep them busy for a while; there was really no reason for her sons to be given anymore models and there was really no reason for her sons to be going out to get new models when they still had models that they hadn't yet gotten around to doing. She sighed inside when Stefan gave Bile two resin model kits: the first was of Santanico Pandemonium, the strip-dancer/vampire girl that was in the 1996 film, From Dusk Till Dawn, while the second was of the troll that was in the old 1985 version of the Stephen King anthology film, Cat's Eye.

Lhaklar was also given two models... though not of the resin type. Her secondborn son was given a model kit of a 1952 Hudson Hornet and then, a few minutes later, he was given a model kit of a 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T. Bile and Lhaklar both thanked Stefan for his generosity, Stefan told her two older sons that they were welcome then he went back to sifting through the bags that he brought in.

Guyunis, like Bile, got two resin model kits too. Stefan gave him a diorama model kit of the 1958 classic film, Fiend Without A Face, then he gave him a model kit of an Alien Queen Chestburster; Guyunis thanked Stefan for his gifts before retreating to standing behind her. The only one of her children that had yet to be given anything was Lazeer; Angel had a feeling deep within her gut that said there was something living in the cardboard box that was on the coffee table. She was surprised when Stefan gave her youngest son a model kit of a transparent alien; the model looked interesting, and her son seemed just as surprised as her over being given it.

"How're all the animals in the house?" Stefan asked after taking the small cardboard box up from the coffee table.

"Doing well," Angel replied.

"Growing like weeds!" Hazaar said a little loudly.

"Multiplying," Lazeer said. Everyone turned to look at him instantly.

"Pardon?" Angel said. "What'd you say, Lazie?"

"Remember how I had to get a new cage for my Fire Salamanders a few weeks ago?" Lazeer asked. Angel shook her head while Bile and Lhaklar nodded theirs. "My salamanders had kids three... four weeks ago."

"Uh-oh!" Lhaklar said. "How many and did you separate the male from the female?"

"Five—I actually found my female having pup number two." Lazeer replied.

"Ew!" Hazaar and Guyunis exclaimed.

"Is that the reason why you stayed in your room for nearly two hours?" Bile asked. "You were watching your lizard give birth?"

"Amphibian and, yes, that's the real reason for why I refused to come out from my room." Lazeer replied.

"The reason for why you had to get a new cage a few weeks ago—was it to separate the male from the female or... what?" Lhaklar asked after his brother didn't answer one of his questions.

"The male and female are still together—the new cage was purchased for their kids; so their parents wouldn't be tempted to eat them, they're right small." Lazeer replied.

"I'd of either set the babies free or gotten two cages instead of one." Lhaklar mumbled. "You'll be up to your neck in salamanders in no time if you leave the male with the female."

"I think the female was pregnant when I got her—she was pretty big, after all. She's a little thinner now." Lazeer said back. Everyone noticed the touch of defense that was in his voice.

"How'd the... Amphibian have the babies, Lazeer?" Stefan asked. He was very interested in his young friend's Salamanders. "Did she have eggs, like normal Amphibians and lizards?"

"No, they were fully formed and egg-less when they were born." Lazeer replied. "Can't really describe it without grossing everyone out but, I guess she had them like Dolphins have their kids. Tail first, with the rest following."

"The young doing well?" Stefan asked.

"Yeah—they're eating and growing a lot." Lazeer replied. "Everything upstairs is healthy."

Stefan stood up after hearing what Lazeer had just told him about his Fire Salamanders. He opened the top of the box that he had while he walked over to Lazeer; he held the box out to Lazeer after reaching him. Lazeer looked at the box; at first, he looked nervous, then curiosity grabbed a-hold of him. He reached his hand into the box then, not two seconds later, squealed. He pulled two plastic containers out of the box that had green blobs in them; he took the containers to the coffee table quickly then, working slowly, trying hard to not let whatever was inside escape, he pried the lid of one of them off. He came close to crying after the lid was off; he rushed over to Stefan, hugged him, thanked him, then went back to the two containers that were on the coffee table.

"What _is_ that!" Hazaar exclaimed after his brother took a small frog out from the open container.

"Is that thing-k normal? I can see i-k-ts guts!" Guyunis exclaimed.

"They're Glass Frogs," Lazeer said. The frog, which was no more than an inch and a half long, climbed from one of his fingers to the next before jumping back into the open container. Lazeer closed the container after the frog went back in. "Their skin is normally translucent—you can see their heart, liver, and gastrointestinal tract because of the translucence of their skin."

"Cool!" Guyunis said.

"Gross!" Hazaar said.

"Sounds like something a mad scientist would be interested in." Bile said.

"How many did you g-k-et? Do they all have eyes like t-k-hat one you held? The one that you took out of the container had large, wild, hypnotic-like eyes—tha-k-t was cool!" Guyunis said excitedly.

He took advantage of the chance that he was given to see if he could get their mutter to see him in private. The kids' attention was currently absorbed; they were either asking Lazeer questions on the frogs that he got for him or they were individually checking out the things that he had gotten for them. He grabbed the one thing that he hadn't yet given out to the family then went over to Angel, who was standing by the room's archway. He asked her if he could see her in private then, after she said yes, he followed her to the dining room and then kitchen. The kids, not one second after he got their mutter in private, left the living room. They grabbed the stuff that he got for them then went upstairs to, he presumed, their bedrooms. He sighed over being left alone with the woman that was the head of the family before turning his attention towards the woman that he asked to see in private.

"Hope that was okay to do—I should of called to ask you before I went out on the splurge and I should of called before coming over. I apologize." Stefan said with a tinge of nervousness.

"Perfectly fine; there's no reason to apologize, we look forward to your visits—as long as he takes good care of them, and as long as I don't find anything crawling on the curtains, or the walls, or hopping around in the carpets, they're fine." Angel replied.

"Been right busy the last few weeks—that blasted alien that knocked the shield over Berlin down created all sorts of trouble; people been on my back for weeks now." Stefan said as he re-positioned the brown walnut box that was in his hand. "Haven't been able to keep in contact as much as I'd like to with you and your family—actually wanted to come over to see you and yours a few days ago. Couldn't do it until now—I practically had to sneak away from everything and everyone to come here."

"Sounds like you need a long vacation from everyone and everything," Angel said back. "I feel the same way sometimes—the kids, and general daily life, drive me crazy sometimes."

He re-positioned the box twice more to grab her attention, then, when he felt that he had her attention, he held the box out to her. She took the box hesitantly then, after a few seconds of just standing in place, looking lovely, yet also looking rather nervous and suspicious of what was going on around her, she opened it. While most of what he purchased hadn't cost much—the five frogs that he got for Lazeer had actually been the most expensive of the things that he bought for the boys—, the thing that he purchased for Miss. Irene had cost him a pretty penny. Miss. Irene peeled the top of the box up, then she pulled the cottony material that was lying over the thing that was in the box to the side. Her eyes lit up instantly when she saw what it was that was in the box.

"Mr. Leinart..." she said. She was obviously trying to find the right words to say either thank you or that she couldn't accept the gift. He waited for her to process what he had given her. "Mr. Leinart, this is really, really nice, and I thank you for it, but I can't accept it. This is something that a boyfriend or fiancé or husband would give his partner..."

"Think of it as a gift from a male friend who really appreciates your friendship." Stefan said. He then held his left wrist up. The solar-powered wrist watch, that he received on the on the twenty-third of December, twinkled brightly in the glare of the kitchen lights. "I never thanked you or the boys for the watch—it took a serious beating after it was received and, as you can see, it's still ticking."

"You're welcome," Angel said. She held the necklace, that she just took from the box, up, into the glare of the kitchen lights. The five-row, antique, natural pearl and diamond necklace shimmered brightly. She stared at the necklace for the longest of time before lowering it. "You must of spent a fortune on this, Stefan. Thank you—it's greatly appreciated."

"You're welcome," Stefan said back. He said nothing more for a few minutes. He let his friend digest his gift, then he let his friend place his gift back in the box, then he let his friend remain in quiet for a little while, before speaking again. "Miss. Irene..."

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me something." Stefan said. "You've done a lot over the years to help us stay safe. You've continued to help us by keeping that fader of yours from crippling us after he took over the Americas—you nor your family have fled from society; you're right here, under our noses, in broad view of everyone and everything."

"With having kids, I've had to take a tiny step back from my heroine duties but, yeah, I do what I can to help everyone on this planet stay safe." Angel said back. She automatically thought that he was asking her why she wasn't being more involved in trying to oust her father from the Americas. With having to take care of five sons, and look after a house, she couldn't really devote herself to being a heroine anymore, and that did make her feel blue.

"Have you ever considered yourself fully retired from being my planet's and people's heroine?" Stefan asked.

"No, why?" Angel asked. Stefan didn't answer her for a little while. He just looked at her with a sly smile on her his face.


	40. Part 4

Mount Rushmore, or, more specifically, Mount Rushmore National Memorial, was a sculpture of four American Presidents carved into the granite rock face of the mountain that the Lakota called the Six Grandfather's that was located near Keystone, South Dakota. Danish-American Gutzon Borglum and his son, Lincoln Borglum, were commissioned to sculpt the four, sixty foot tall heads of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, and Abraham Lincoln in 1927. The project was completed in 1941; no casualties were reported as happening all throughout the fourteen year period of construction.

Or, so the history books claimed. The history books only touched on the bare basics of that monument and there was no mention of what lay underneath the mountain—thank God on that last one because, if such knowledge was known, his passengers wouldn't be free or trying to escape to the relative safety of Europe.

The Lakota knew all about the catacombs that lie under the mountain for centuries; it wasn't until 1943 that the catacombs were discovered by people of non-Native American descent. The catacombs were a closely guarded secret by the North American government—as were the bases that were also under the mountain. If attack from foreign forces happened, and the government was in danger of being captured, the plan was to move it, along with all of its staff, to the catacombs and underground bases; this plan was never really initiated until May of last year.

Up to the day that Master Vile took over the Americas, normal practice runs and drills were done were the North American government would evacuate or leave their usual buildings and offices in Washington D.C. for the catacombs and bases that were under the mountain. It was a great hope by the North American government that such a move would never have to be done; that hope had ceased to exist after Master Vile's ruthless take-over of the American continents occurred.

"How you people doing back there?" Jeffery Rind, a thirty-two year old man, who, up to recently, use to be one of the few humans allowed to work on one of Master Vile's military bases, asked.

Dumb question. He had only to look at their eyes to see how they were. The ride was a long and arduous one; they wanted it to be over with. They were also terrified out of their wits end—he could comply with that last feeling. He was tottering on the edge of being scared to death too.

They had a good reason to be terrified, he thought as he continued to fly the jet erratically. Most of his passengers were the residents of the Mount Rushmore catacombs and bases. The ride from Mount Rushmore to Washington D.C. was an easy and pleasant one; no one bothered or asked him or anyone else in his entourage to stop—which was a good thing, considering the fact that the jets that he and the other pilots in his entourage were flying were stolen property.

He and nine other men and women were hand-picked to work the Ellsworth Air Force Base that was forty-eight minutes from Mount Rushmore. It was Master Vile's idea to incorporate human military pilots on his bases; after he and the nine other men and women were granted permission to work on the base, they were given lessons on how to drive the alien crafts that they were currently flying. It took a long time to learn the ropes of the vessels; a lot of punishments were given to him and the other pilots but they learned and they learned well. They weren't learning the ropes of the vessels to join Master Vile's army, though. Couriers from Mount Rushmore were meeting with him and the other men and women that were piloting the other jets in his entourage for four months now. After word reached the people that were living under Mount Rushmore that Master Vile was building bases closer to their hide-outs, they decided to initiate a plan on trying to leave the country.

Up to their arrival to Washington D.C., that plan was going well. He and the other pilots took the nearly silent alien jets from Ellsworth Air Force Base at 4:45 p.m.; they picked everyone that was living under Mount Rushmore up forty-eight minutes later then they flew off into a rather spectacular set of lenticular or lens-shaped clouds. The "fun" started eight hours later; there were some folk left behind nearly a year ago and President Smith had wanted to try to pick them up. The pick-up had nearly been a disaster; after he and three of the other pilots landed, the people that were left behind, and their gathered families, charged from the nearly reconstructed White House—the aliens that were also in the White House were hot on their heels! His temples were still throbbing from that rescue—them damn aliens had shot at him and the other pilots; they only just missed being shot down.

The flight over the rest of Washington D.C. was pleasant and hazard-free; the extra passengers that he and the other pilots picked up were allowed to wind down from their run from the White House. His extra passengers were also allowed to joke and share stories of their tortures during their tenure in the White House. It wasn't until twenty minutes later that the dogging started. Five other alien jets had shown up on their tails; they were shot at and chased the entire time they were flying over the Atlantic.

His passengers had practically started hugging one another in their fright over the situation. The pilots of the dogging jets had started firing at them at once; he, and the other pilots that were trying to help the refugees to escape to freedom, had started flying erratically to avoid being hit by the flying missiles and bullets right after being shot at. As if all of that wasn't bad enough, a sixth jet, that had a very surprising pilot at the helm, had joined the other dogging jets ten minutes later—who would of thought that Master Vile knew how to fly a jet and who would of known that he'd join in on the chase.

"Daddy..." one of the children in the back said after rising nearly four inches from the bucket seat that she was sitting on.

"Calm down, Margie." the father of the child said.

"Think of it as a roller coaster—we're strapped in, the coaster's just taking us for a thrill ride." the mother of the child said.

He nearly smiled at that—a thrill ride? The jet had become a roller coaster and it was taking his passengers for a thrill ride, how nice was that. The things parents said to their children to calm them down; if only what the mother had said was true.

He and his passengers were strapped down tight. The belts, that were crossing their chests, were preventing them from being thrown from one side of the jet to the other; he was glad for this—driving a jet while being thrown around wasn't fun! He could imagine it now, trying to drive while being flung from one side of the jet to the next... trying to dodge one person's vomit while trying to not throw up himself or trying to keep everything down after having someone's vomit splash up against him. None of that sounded fun and he bet that it'd be the cause of either being captured or being killed while being airborne.

"Pilot in craft two double-x five, come in. Over." the unmistakable voice of Master Vile came in through his headset. He pressed the button for his mouth-piece to work then returned to driving.

"Pilot in craft two double-x five here. Over." he said.

"You must be getting tired there mate—I nearly caught you on the last firing. Twice." Master Vile said in a near friendly voice.

"Gotta keep you on your toes back there," he said back.

"Come now, I'm a generous man. Land your craft, stop this chase. Surely the folk on-board aren't worth the risk of your life or the lives of your loved ones." Master Vile said, that near friendly tone in his voice was still there, but there was also a menacing growl mixed in that made a shiver roll down his spine.

He and Master Vile had spoken on at least a dozen occasions since the chase began. The man had threatened him with death on the first few talks that they did then he threatened his family with imprisonment and then torture and then death on four other occasions then he changed his tone to make himself seem more friendly and charming on the remaining occasions.

That was a hoot—even while trying to sound friendly and charming, he sounded crookish and there had always been that growl-like undertone to his voice. He bet the man had chided himself with each attempt in trying to be charming and friendly with him. Master Vile wasn't what he called a friendly or charming being anyway; the threats that the man was throwing at him were really falling on deaf ears anyways. His loved ones were in one of the jets that were in his entourage; he and everyone involved had decided to forgo the heartache and worry involved in leaving their loved ones behind in the Americas.

He wouldn't put it past Master Vile to do such as thing as rounding each and every one of their loved ones up, imprisoning them and then having them tortured and then killed if the situation was different than what it was. The man seemed to have a thing for senseless arrests, tortures, and killings.

Master Vile might as well throw the friendly, charming routine out the door and he might as well quit trying to con him with that "I'm a generous man" thing too. There was not a soul on the planet that'd believe that malarkey—everyone knew how ungenerous the man was.

"Shouldn't you be heading back to base?" he said to the man who claimed himself North and South America's ruler. "You've been dogging us all night—you have to be both tired and hungry."

"Looking out for your ruler, or just being a smart-ass?" Master Vile asked.

"Being a smart-ass—how a man like you's allowed to live a free life is beyond me. You're a crook in my book."

"My heart flutters and brightens with your kind words." Master Vile said back. "How many on board—my pilots claim that there are important people in your group."

"Nearly thirty aboard and the identity of my passengers is for me and only me to know." he said back.

"The sun'll be coming up soon—"

"Jeffery, quit listening to that bastard jowl and fly will ya?" one of the other pilots, a female who, he believed, was named Helga Bullock, said into his ear-piece.

"We have just ten minutes before passing over the Rhein river," another of the pilots said into his ear-piece.

"You lot will not get to your destination!" Master Vile said evilly. The connection was suddenly dropped.

A jet flew over him at the same time that another jet flew under him; they crossed paths before evening out. The dogger jets, that were firing at them, had upped their anti. Master Vile fired at him; he went up high, then he dropped down to nearly the tree-line before gaining altitude again. Another jet in his entourage was forced to do a loop-de-loop to avoid being hit by the missiles that were being fired at it. Sweat started rolling down his cheeks after an explosion went off to his right. They were now high above the shield that kept the commune of Seltz safe, so none of the missiles or bullets that were being fired at them were a threat to anyone below—the plan of flying across the Atlantic, then playing shield hop, was thought of and discussed some weeks ago until Bryce Einstein, another of his fellow pilots, asked the important question of whether or not the shields over Europe would allow such alien machinery to enter them. The machines that they were flying were foreign to the shields; the shields might just rebuff them. That plan hadn't been a good one so it was scrapped. It was decided a week ago to just fly over the shielded parts of Europe—while it was a longer and more dangerous route it was a better one; they didn't know the compatibility of the shields on this part of the planet and they didn't know how well the shields would react to their jets. It was best to just play things dangerously and by the ear.

"Mommy!" a child, the one that spoke earlier, he presumed, yelled in fright.

"Hang on Claire! It'll be over soon! It'll be over soon, I promise!"

He jerked the control wheel to the left after his peripheral vision saw a flash of red—a missile flashed by his jet a second later; if he remained flying the way he was, he and all of his passengers would of died. The missile would of struck the vessel in a delicate area; there would of been a mighty eruption then all matter of bodies and debris would of fallen to the ground. He did a half loop-de-loop before evening out then he jerked the wheel down; another missile barely missed him. The people in the back of his vessel screamed; their bags and other things clicked and clanged. He swallowed hard after he saw another missile come within a half-inch of another jet then he gasped after seeing one of the dogger jets come within distance of nearly colliding with one of the jets that were in his entourage.

"It's a war up here!" he came close to shouting.

Master Vile fired at him twice more. One of the missiles came close to hitting the tail portion of his vessel; the other one missed him by a mile. Two more missiles, and a barrage of bullets, came next. A shower of sparks went off in the back of his jet; one of his passengers screamed; his breathing grew heavy and fast. Another of the jets in his entourage was forced to do a false fish-tail to avoid being hit while another was forced to veer to the far right. When one of the dogger jets flew into his line of sight he didn't waste a second in firing at it; the bullets that he fired missed the dogger jet but one of the missiles hit it. The dogger jet exploded in a dazzling display of red and orange. His passengers yelled and clapped their hands at his successful take-down for only a second before resuming their screaming.

"Bring each vessel down—don't destroy; I want them people on-board alive!" Master Vile sounded winded and alarmed behind him.

Their flight over Seltz took ten agonizing minutes. Another of the dogger jets was shot down; he and two others in his entourage came close to receiving crippling blows but, by the grace of God, they managed to elude the bullets and missiles. When they started crossing the Rhein river, the antics of their followers didn't change; they still dogged them and they still fired at them. Two of his fellow pilots swooped down low to the water-line—they tried to chicken their doggers out, which didn't work. He tried another tactic that got better results—he twisted his vessel around then flew it right at Master Vile. He wished that he had a camera on board; the man had worn a very shocked and terrified look on his face after he came close to flying into him.

He re-positioned himself after he did that maneuver then found himself in a bit of a jam. Three of his fellow pilots flew their jets over and then in front of him; he was forced to slow his vessel down—it was either do that or risk an air collision.

"Pilot of craft two double-x five! You know how foolish you are! You could of killed someone in that last move!" Master Vile seemed a bit unnerved by his attempt in trying to chicken him out.

"How wet's your cockpit, Vile?" he said back.

They flew over to the German side of the Rhein river—which, by standards of the country that they were now in, they called the Rhine river out of respect—then they headed north. They continued flying erratically, their passengers continued to scream—he bet a few actually did hurl during the trip over the Rhine river; the flight wasn't a smooth or normal, bumpy one. It was downright terrorsome! He and his pilots increased speed; after they reached a certain part of the underlying nature reserve that they started flying over, they separated. Half of his group went towards the town of Steinmauern while he and four other pilots continued to fly north. Two of the remaining dogger jets abandoned him and the other four pilots; they flew off in pursuit of the other jets. Along with the other remaining dogger, he and his remaining pilots were left with Master Vile.

"You can't fly forever, Pilot!" Master Vile's menacing words echoed through his ear-piece like knife blades; they were true words because, while he and the other pilots had stocked enough fuel in their crafts to last a trip from North America to Germany, they hadn't put into thought their having to evade pursuing jets. They had used a lot of fuel in just trying to evade their pursuers; his tanks were nearly on empty as it was.

Still, with Steinmauern being so close, he didn't see why some of his group couldn't run the risk of a side-trip.

The telegraph, that President Smith sent to German headquarters in Berlin, had said nothing on any side-trips; the responding telegraph had, though. The German president, a man by the name of Stefan Alrich Leinart, had a special request for them; they were about to adhere to that special request.

"Let's wake some aliens, Ladies and Gentlemen!" he said as he pressed the missile button that was on the side of his throttle stick.

Except for the minor issue of his having to split Tula and Rubacon up from another furious fight his morning started well.

Even though his pain index was a high-level throb for the last four days, he still spent some hours either resting in a tub of medicated water or lying under the glass dome doors of the medical table that was in his ship's medical chamber. His pain index for that morning was nothing—a surprise; he had expected to wake up to the same old routine of having either Homsi or another of his butlers help him get up out of bed and then either into the bathroom that was adjacent his bedroom or down the hallway to the medical chamber. It felt great to be able to get up on his own accord, do his old, usual morning routine, and then get dressed without having to lean on someone or rely on someone to help him. Being able to attend breakfast and interact with his family was also great.

The first reading that was on record on his ship's medical table read _Surfeit, TazirVile Lajoshu; December 23, 4100 1:15 p.m._ The last reading that was on record on his ship's medical table read _Surfeit, TazirVile Lajoshu; January 26, 4101 4:59 p.m._ ; he was hoping that no other readings would follow that final one. He was getting rather tired of seeing that medical chamber and its stationed table and he was also getting tired of medicated baths and, for the record, all baths in general. He took a shower that morning—his first in over a month! Boy had that falling water felt fine! He had relished in finally being able to move about freely and without feeling any pain. His family was shocked when he came into his ship's dining room; they had expected to dine without him... they had expected another Tazir-less day. A tender hug, that turned into a bone-crunching hug, had come from his daughter soon after he entered the room—he had missed his daughter phenomenally and, from what he could tell, she had missed him just as much.

 _"You'll probably be bed-ridden for a few days after this—look right tired and sore as is."_

His sister had no damn idea how sore he was! The chase hadn't really been all that bad; his leg muscles were sore, but they weren't that sore. The fall from the helicopter was the tipping point for him; if he wasn't thrown—to put it nicely—from that helicopter he would of continued the chase. He'd probably have one of his sons in his ship. The resulting landing from that fall was excruciatingly painful—he was just as surprised as his mother and stepfather were over his still having enough go to continue chasing after Hazaar afterwards.

His left arm and thigh were skinned thanks to that landing—he was left with just muscle on them parts of his body. He paid a fine price for his drive in trying to reclaim his son as his. Over a month of doing nothing more than resting in bed or in a medicated bath; over a month of lying on his back on his ship's medical table; over a month of choking down pain medication after pain medication; over a month of forcing the pained screams down. It was all over now, thank the Gods! It was time to get back in the saddle. It was time to go back out there in the field; time to find his sons and bring them to camp.

His mother and stepfather, and some of his staff, had done their best to persuade him to go to a hospital some weeks ago; he had refused. There was only one way that he was leaving the planet that he was on and that was with his entire family in-tote.

"Master Tazir," he stopped then looked down; the Goblin acknowledging him was none other than Zshon, his longest-employed butler's oldest son.

"Zshon," he said back.

"Looking rather well today, sir." Zshon said. "Glad to see you up and about on your own power."

"Likewise, Zshon." he said back. "How's your father—his wrist continuing to do well?"

"Yessir, Master Tazir. He has no problems with his wrist." Zshon replied.

He and the Goblin spoke for a few more seconds before he went on his way down the hall; when he reached the room that Rubacon was in he stopped. Rubacon was seated in the room's one chair; he looked none too pleased with himself or with the situation that he was in. He wished that he could help him some. Give him some advice or something. The man was really having a tough time—with him and his wife fighting all the time, and with their daughter constantly asking them when they were coming home, and with the event that happened two weeks and one day ago... he couldn't imagine anyone having gone through all of that and still be able to wake up sane in the morning.

Rubacon and Tula had gotten into a hair-raiser of a fight just fifteen minutes ago—like, right after breakfast. Tula said something to the man pertaining to the being that Kuruk continued to call Triskull's son and Rubacon said something back about how the man wasn't his get; their back and forth fussing had gotten louder and fire-leaden and fast. His daughter, and some of the other children in the ship, had actually come upon the couple "dooking it out"—or, more specifically, Tula just throwing and bashing Rubacon's face in.

Things between the two were so bad... he wouldn't be surprised if a divorce was either in the works or was being thought of. His father, who only just returned to camp, had really worked a number on the couple to get them to split. Before he got the two separated, he took two swings from Tula; the left side of his jaw still stung a little. Tula backed off immediately afterwards. The two went to their separate chambers, that were quite a distance from one another, right after them punches were delivered.

"Man best not try any of this crap with me and Angel," he thought as he continued to stare at Rubacon. "I've worked my tail off to find her and the boys—the love's still there between us; we have five prospects to look after and raise... If he so much as tries, I'll drop him like a hot fuckin' pota—"

"Hello, Tazzy."

As his mother had always told him; you was bound to be noticed if you stand and stare long enough at someone or something. He had remained standing in front of the room; he continued to stare at Rubacon, and he was noticed. Now that he was noticed, he couldn't just walk off with a high blush going on in the cheek areas. He stepped into the room, then he addressed the man who was, technically, his nephew-in-law. Rubacon said hello again then stood up; his face was already looking puffed up on the left side.

"Hope my wife didn't bust your jaw too badly," Rubacon said. "She didn't mean it—she's a bit moody at the moment. She'll calm down."

"Don't worry about it, I've taken plenty of jaw sluggings in my lifetime." he said back.

"Look in good shape for one who spent over a month moaning and groaning in the bed." Rubacon said.

"Thank you, and the feeling matches the look." he said. Since he knew it had to be addressed, he started in on the situation that his father created between Rubacon and his wife. "Shouldn't be long before some sort of result comes from all this—with that man showing up more often, we should be able to receive a sample for DNA testing soon."

"Been hoping that the wait would end sooner—someone should of thought about getting a skin or blood sample while fighting him." Rubacon said.

"The fights that have been haved with him have been pretty fierce but, yes, I agree with you. I wasn't there when Trob fought him so I can't voice any opinions on that one—I know from seeing the two fights that he had with my father that he puts a gallant effort in his fights; my father had plenty of chance to grab a sample during his two fights with him." he hoped that none of what he just said sounded corny.

"Neither Tula nor I have seen the guy in the flesh yet so we really can't comment on him or on the fights that he's had with Duru or Trobrencus." Rubacon said back. "All we really have to go on is that silly drawing that your father showed my wife, and the descriptions of the fights that he's been involved in—why my wife's gone so over the cliff with this is beyond me; we haven't even seen the guy yet so we can't judge or comment on him. We shouldn't be fighting over something that we haven't seen in person yet."

"Things went by so fast when that guy fought my father them two times... I apologize for not taking time to tell you or your wife what was going on; the next time I get word about him being sighted, or about him being involved in a fight with someone, I'll take time to tell you two about it so you can be there to see it yourselves." he said. Rubacon smiled at him then gave him a pat on the back.

"Thank you, Tazzy. Keep us in the circle—we want this over with; our lives have been turned upside down thanks to this mess, think we both want this to be over with so we can reclaim what we were forced to abandon."

Before the ship started acting like it had a heartbeat, Rubacon said something pertaining to how he'd enjoy the act of rubbing his father's face into the piece of paper that declared him as not the father of the man that was continuously seen with his sons. He had time to say that he didn't blame him for wanting to do that before finding himself standing sprawl-legged. Rubacon wasn't able to save his balance; he was thrown back to the chair that he had recently been seated in. His nephew-in-law grasped the arms of the chair then went still; his face took on a hard, terrified look.

"What the fuuuuuuu..."

He heard screaming. He heard his mother screaming. He heard his sister screaming. He heard Tula screaming. He heard his maids screaming. The loudest screams seemed to come from the children; his younger half-sisters, Blaiga and Defe, and his daughter, Eshal, were the loudest of the screaming children in his ship. Just hearing his daughter, the only child that he knew the whereabouts of, screaming like that shocked him into action; he charged out of the room that Rubacon was in then he ran down the hallway, dodging this maid and butler while also trying his best to keep his balance. His stepfather, he saw, was in the process of getting Phaggo and Qhuakiz to a safe room; Efagti and Amadh were also in the process of trying to get Blaiga and Defe to a safe room. He didn't know where Eshal was—that scared him; his only daughter was in his ship, but he didn't know exactly where she was.

He dodged past Cheshire, Phaggo, Qhuakiz, Efagti, Amadh, Blaiga, and Defe then he made a left turn. He went towards his ship's security room—that was the room that he needed to be in... That was the room where he could increase his ship's stability and find out what was going on for his ship to be acting the way it was. His ship lurched this way and then that way; he was thrown against the walls of two hallways then he practically threw himself at his ship's security room's closed door. The door gave way instantly; it hung on one of its hinges as he went to work on the instruments that were lit up in bright blues, greens, and reds.

The many cameras that were set-up in various places in his ship showed him all that he needed to know of what was going on in his ship's interior: sparks were flying in Hallway 34, a fire was going on in Hallway 20, part of the ceiling in Hallway 12 was down. Homsi, he saw on one of the monitors, was with his daughter. They were on the floor; Homsi was shielding his daughter from any sort of debris that may or may not fall on her. Losal and Ulok were running towards them; one of the men had a blanket on him. Eldass was with his mother—he was trying his best to keep her safe and calm. Some of his staff were going towards the fire that was in Hallway 20; they had buckets and wet-blankets in-hand. Tula was lying flat-out on the bed that was in her assigned bedroom chamber; she was scared to death, but she looked safe.

There were a handful of cameras around the exterior of his ship; they were all situated in good places, so he could see anything and everything that went on around the area that his ship was in. It was these cameras that were capturing the most in-depth photographs and video of the happenings of the outside world; he tuned into them quickly. His jaw came close to plummeting to the floor; the attack, that his ship survived on the eighth of November, was nothing compared to what was currently going on now. His ship sustained very little to no damage in the attack that it faced on the eighth of November; it might suffer some damage from the attack that was being thrown at it now and, from what he could tell, it wasn't the only one that was being attacked.

There were seven Mock-60 GammaJets flying around his, his brother's, his grandfather's, and Trobrencus's camps. Except for two of them, they were all firing a volley of missiles at each ship that was centered in them camps. A shower of sparks flew up from Trobrencus's ship; one of the beams that held his grandfather's ship up collapsed; a red plume of smoke rose from his brother's ship. He scrambled to gain a connection to the jets that were flying about the four camps; the machine that he was working on had just showed a _Connection Failed_ when a red beam shot out from his grandfather's ship. It came close to hitting one of the seven jets. He punched buttons after he continued to not be allowed to connect to the jets that were flying about then, at the last second, he slapped his hand down on a red button that initiated any and all outside camp conversations to be heard.

It was that action that granted him half of what he wanted; he was able to hear the conversations of the pilots that were commanding the jets, but he wasn't allowed to engage the pilots in conversation.

"Operation Wake Up seems to be a success." one of the pilots said.

"Keep an eye on MV Craft O-one," another pilot said.

"Who's worse—Master Vile and his croonies firing at us or the one that owns that shiny, pear-shaped ship firing at us?" another pilot said.

"We've achieved what we wanted to do here—let's finish our drive to Steinmauern." another pilot said.

"You shall not reach your destination! I know my daughter's shields well—they will not permit you. Your efforts in escaping me are futile!"

His eyes came close to bursting from their sockets. His nephew was in one of the jets? He was apart of whatever mission or operation the pilots were doing? His jaw clamped back in place at the same time that the jets started flying away from the area. His grandfather exited his ship after they started leaving the area; his brother came out from his ship next. The two men looked at the departing jets for a few seconds before making flaming tornadoes wrap around their lower halves—he had always been amazed by the act of one in his family making them flaming tornadoes; thanks to his wife, he had mastered that art some time ago. He left his ship's security room then went down the hall; it took him just four minutes to reach the half-ajar airlock hatchway doors that acted as his ship's main entrance and exit. He squeezed through the two doors then threw his arms back.

Instead of making a flaming tornado appear around his lower half he made an air tornado appear around himself. He was well off in pursuit of his grandfather and brother when his stepfather, Eshal, with Homsi, Losal, and Ulok following, Irka, Cyla, and some of his brother's and grandfather's staff exited their damaged and smoking vessels. Most of the people that exited the vessels watched as he, his brother, and grandfather pursued the jets; his stepfather, Eshal, Homsi, Losal, and Ulok, Irka, and Cyla teleported when they saw the location that they were headed towards.

"I'm nearly out of fuel!" Henry Kilts, a pilot that was to his immediate left, said after they moved away from the Rastatter Rheinaue alien camp.

"We are _all_ nearly out of fuel, Henry." Helga Bullock said.

"Do your best, Henry. We're nearly there." Jeffery Rind said.

Operation Wake Up, as they decided to call it, went very well. Except for that one moment where the owner of that shiny, black, pear-shaped ship had fired at them they had encountered no problems. Master Vile had actually fired at the ship that had a large, silver coil on it four times. They were rather surprised over that. The people in the Rastatter Rheinaue alien camp were kin to him, yet he had fired at them and, from what they saw, intentionally too. Now that "Operation Wake Up" was over, they were low on ammunition; he had maybe two missiles and a handful of bullets left. He was sure that the other pilots were low in ammunition too. Master Vile and the other alien pilot that was dogging them seemed to have plenty of ammunition left; that was another surprise.

"Operation Wake Up was a smashing success! We have three extra doggers." a pilot who, he did believe, was called Benjamin Driscoll, said.

"What do you see back there, Benny?" Helga Bullock asked.

"Two flaming, tornado-like things and a near-clear, tornado-like thing—they're all revolving around the lower halves of three beings, two of whom look similar in body-shape; the third looks very different than them."

"Keep your eyes focused on the shield—only worry about the new-comers if they open fire on us." he said.

Henry Kilts's jet dipped low, nearly to the tops of the trees, then it shot up into the sudden glare of the sun that just decided to poke over the horizon. He watched as the vessel rolled then he held his breath after two missiles came close to hitting it. Henry smoothed his craft out then something happened that none of them had expected to happen. A loud, chopping sound was suddenly heard from all of their jets. The fuel in their tanks was sucked dry; the engines were starting to fail them. The second engine in Henry's craft died just when they saw the shield that was over Steinmauern; Henry's craft was driven sideways towards the shield. He was losing altitude by the second!

Master Vile laughed in his ear; the laugh sounded happy... victorious. The man was obviously enjoying the sight of Henry losing control of his jet. One of Helga Bullock's engines went out then one of Benjamin Driscoll's went out; sweat was just pouring into his eyes when one of his engines went out. Each of their crafts lost altitude; the tops of the trees that dotted the outer limits of Steinmauern scraped at their hulls. The pilot behind him had just forced his jet to the left to avoid a missile that was fired at him when the other engine in Helga Bullock's jet went. All of their engines went in quick fashion afterwards. There was just a mile to go before they reached the safety of the shield; it looked like Master Vile's laugh was justified. It looked like they were beaten. He swallowed hard at the same time that a red glow ran out from the side of the shield that was in front of them; the glow surrounded him and the other pilots while it repelled Master Vile and the other alien dogger.

"What the fuck?" Master Vile sounded astounded, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The side of the shield that was in front of them disappeared; they flew into Steinmauern with no trouble. One final surprise was in store for them; Jeffery looked down to see that he had lost touch with both the wheel and the throttle stick. The two controls were moving on their own—like someone else was piloting the craft that he was in! He stared at the two controls move for a minute before tearing his eyes from them; he unbuckled himself from the cockpit right when Helga Bullock spoke through his ear-piece.

"The other crafts! They were landed on a cleared street—"

"I have no control of my craft yet I'm still airborne—are my eyes seeing things? My wheel and throttle are moving on their own!" Benjamin Driscoll sounded shocked.

"Coming down for a landing," Jeffery said. He then turned to look at his passengers. "We made it, folks. We're safe."

Their landing was smooth. It was like they were landed on a pillow instead of on a street; they felt no jolt or jump when they landed. No vibration was felt. His passengers slowly started unbuckling themselves from the bucket seats that they were gripping the sides of; they grabbed their bags and other brought-along items then slowly arranged themselves in front of the one door that was on the side of the craft that they had spent the last fifteen hours in. He grabbed the hand-groove that was on the inside of the craft's one exit/entrance door then heaved it to the right; the door gave way, squealing and screaming all the while. He and his passengers cringed at the sound, but they also relished in it; this was the final sound that they'd hear of their trek.

The trip from South Dakota to Washington D.C., the pick-up of the ones that were left behind nearly a year ago, the trip across the Atlantic ocean, the trip across France and then their entry to Germany, the side-trip of blasting the Rastatter Rheinaue camp... it had all led to this! They were now in the safety of a shield. They were finally free of the tyranny of Vile. He wouldn't put it past any of his passengers to kiss the street that they stepped on; shit, he just might do that! They survived the whole way; not a one of them was lost. No vessel or person that dwelled within one of the ten vessels that were used to get them to Steinmauern was lost.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" one of his passengers said after he pulled the door open. "George... it's beautiful!"

"From Hell to Bliss—welcome to freedom, Nora." George Davis, the now official, former Executive Chef of the White House, said as he wrapped his arm around his wife.

"Where's Vile? Did he enter the shield or..." William Robinson, a now former butler that use to work in the White House, asked. William stood in place for a minute; he shivered violently from head to foot before taking his first step out from the craft that he and his family had flown in. "Did Vile fly into the side of the shield? Where is he?"

"Right th—"

"On the other side of the shield—where he belongs."

Horace Alexander Smith, the man that they still regarded as the head of the North American government, stepped out from the shadows. At first look, the man didn't really look American. He had very distinguished Italian features; he had a high forehead, a pair of full lips, a prominent nose, and high cheekbones. His eyes were very American, though. They were a deep brown color. His hair was a mixture of brown and gray; the hair that was on the crown of his head was thinning. It would surprise many to know that he was actually younger than the German president; with his features, and that mix of gray and brown hair of his, he looked to be nearing sixty when, in reality, he was only forty-seven years old.

George Davis and William Robinson rushed over to the man after he stepped out from the shadows; William gave the man's hand a brisk shake while George gave the man a hug. Both men told the American president how good it was to see him again, the man said that he was also glad to see them—and in one piece, he added as a bit of side humor.

The new day's sun lit everything up; they could see their surroundings well. The sleepy, densely populated town of Steinmauern was showered in new morning rays; not a car was driving the roads that they could see and, as far as they knew, everyone was either still in bed, sleeping until being aroused by a waking spouse or by an alarm clock, or they were slowly getting themselves together for the day to come. William saw the other alien pilot and Master Vile; they landed their crafts a short distance from the shield. Neither man was in the shield; he took a deep breath before leaning against his wife of nearly fifteen years.

"The two crafts that were following our group crashed into the shield—it's just Master Vile and that other guy who remain alive." Horace Smith said.

"What was that red glow that wrapped around us?" Jeffery Rind, an African American man, who had light brown eyes, asked. "I wasn't able to control my craft after it touched us."

"We'll find out soon, I'm sure." Horace Smith said.

The three aliens that were dogging them "on-foot" arrived soon after everyone got out of the jets; Horace Smith was given his first taste of what the Germans were forced to go through the last few months. The aliens, two of whom looked very identical to Master Vile, did nothing but stare at them while the alien that looked like one of them Gray's paced back and forth before the shield. More aliens appeared soon after them three did; they either stared into the shield or they paced it. Some of the aliens spoke, others were silent. The Gray-like alien continued to pace until his eye landed on Master Vile; Horace watched in dismayed silence as the alien grabbed a thick stick then strode up to the man. He winced after the alien struck Master Vile with the stick, then he stepped back into the shadows after the two started exchanging words.

He retrieved his wife and daughters then went back to the group; the responding telegraph to his telegraph had said something about the German president, Stefan Aldrich Leinart, meeting him and his group soon after their landing. Where was the man? Surely the man would of reached them by now. After going through all of what they had just gone through they didn't need to be stood up or ignored now—they were on foreign soil... They were foreign to the country. Except for their luggage, they had not a single dollar in European currency on them; they were all dirt poor.

"Horace..." his wife, Winifred, said.

"It shouldn't be longer, Winnie." Horace said back.

"Listen to them go at one another!" his daughter, Ashleigh, who was no more than twelve years old, said. She pointed at the two aliens that were bickering among themselves before turning to look at her father. "Why are they fighting, daddy?"

"Sounds like it has something to do about Master Vile trying to kill someone," his other daughter, Rebecca, who was sixteen years old, said before he could respond to his youngest daughter's question.

"Nevermind that now—think we have company coming." Horace said after spotting a row of vehicles driving in his and his group's direction.

The chasing of the jets didn't take long; he was traveling via air tornado for only five minutes before having to down-power. He became anxious for some reason after returning to normal mobility; up to a few minutes ago, he didn't know the reason for why. His brother and grandfather took maybe one or two steps after down-powering; they were basically just standing like statues in front of the shield. Up to his daughter's arrival to the area, he was a walking, pacing, anxious mess; the reason for why he was so anxious had clicked after her arrival—his nephew was in the area and it was already known that he was out for his sons. Would his nephew try to take his young, vulnerable, daughter out too? He wasn't about to allow his nephew the distinct pleasure of taking his daughter's life and he had yet to punish him for trying to kill Lhaklar.

He had a stick in one of his hands. He had used it twice now to clobber his nephew in the face and gut; if he had to use it again, he would. At the moment, his weapon of choice was his words. His brother, grandfather, and his stepfather were standing back; they were letting him square off with his nephew. Homsi, Losal, and Ulok were keeping his daughter way back from him and his nephew. They were shielding her well; he'd commend them greatly for their service later. The only ones that were ordering him to stop "tormenting" his nephew were Irka and Cyla; they didn't see the cause for his anger.

"What the fuck is your problem, Uncle?" his nephew snarled after trying to snap the stick that he had in his hand in two.

"My problem? You know damn well what my problem is!" TazirVile said as he gave his nephew a firm shove back.

"No I d..." realization flooded his nephew's face; a cloud of sick, evil satisfaction followed on its heels. "Oooooh, that. You're holding that dance your boy and I did in early November against me."

"Damn right I am!"

"Good, keep it on me. I have two more boys of yours on my list to off—you sure as hell aren't going to scare me off from my duty of proclaiming myself the dominant over you."

"You won't be "proclaiming" yourself as dominant over me on any day, Vile. I have dominance over you by Universal Law— _I am_ Angel's Universal Husband; _you're_ her husband by Family Law, _that's_ below _my_ ranking and _you_ damn well know it."

"For now, you are." he swung his fist; it collided with his nephew's jaw. His nephew shook his head then smiled at him. "You're going against My Law in assaulting me, Uncle. I can have you arrested for that."

"I'd be released in nothing flat—my facing off with you on accord of your trying to kill my boy would set me free in a second." TazirVile said back.

"You must be visiting that brat's grave oft... trying? For my trying to kill your boy?" again, realization clouded his nephew's face. It was quickly replaced by shock, and then anger. "Damn! He lived!"

"He did, yes." TazirVile said back. "My boy's a strong one—all of them are, actually. Why, he ran out of my ship in nothing but his underwear a few hours after your attempt to kill him. For one to be able to bounce back after a beating like the one you gave he has to be strong."

"A minor mishap, I'll be sure to keep my eyes open for him for round two." his nephew said menacingly. He swung the stick; he tried to get a blow in on his nephew's face. Instead of the stick slapping against his nephew's face, it snapped in three places. His nephew glared at him then, like clockwork, a wicked smile spread across his face. "I'll be sure to be on the look-out for all five of them munchkins of my wife's—Bile, I'll allow to live. He's the only one of real value of the lot. The other four will be leaving the living world sooner than you can imagine."

"You touch any of them kids—"

"Or you'll what, Uncle? You have no pull in this galaxy or, for the record, this planet. All you have is a silly court order that says I can't touch you or anyone associated in the search for my daughter or them five kids of hers." his nephew said. The man took two steps back before turning around. "If you'll excuse me now—I have bigger fish to fry at the moment; let's put this conversation on the back-burner."

He could care less about the humans that his nephew was dogging. His son... no, all of his sons were depending on him. Without their mother, they were just as vulnerable as Eshal. His sons, like Eshal, were his heirs and, like Eshal, they needed protection and by the Gods was he going to do his damnedest to protect them. He had faced the ugly terror of seeing five headstones being erected in the cemetery that was behind his father's house over a thousand years ago; them headstones, each having a name of his missing loved ones on them, had stayed in that cemetery until a year and two months ago. He wasn't about to let them same headstones be placed back in that cemetery. His wife and sons were not going to be buried any time soon!

He lunged at his nephew's backside—a cowardly act but what could he do; his nephew was facing away from him! He wrapped his arms and legs around him; they kissed the ground at the same time that his father teleported to the area. His grandfather ran over to his and his nephew's tousling bodies; he yanked him off his nephew by the seat of his pants then he stomped his foot down on his nephew's stomach to keep him from getting up. His grandfather threw him to the side then he removed his foot from his nephew's stomach. He then stood between them as they started to walk around him.

"Lad," his grandfather said to his father, Duru. "you shouldn't be here. You need to be back at your ship—rest up; you just got back from the hospital, don't make a return visit possible now."

"Seems like with my family's camps being targeted by missiles I _do_ need to be here." DuruVile said back. "What's going on here? Tazir—thought you was still succumbed by your aches and pains, Boy."

"Until today, I was." TazirVile replied.

"What was the cause for your, Kuruk's, my father's, and great-uncle's camps to be attacked?" DuruVile asked him.

"Him!" TazirVile pointed at Master Vile. "He and six other crafts flew over the area that all of our camps are in. They were firing at us; most of the crafts that were involved are now on the other side of the shield. Only my small-dicked nephew, and the guy that's trying to hide behind my small-dicked nephew, remain on our side of the shield."

"Small-dicked? You best be referring to some other nephew of yours." Master Vile said angrily.

"I'm referring to you you no coot, small-dicked, big-headed, pig-headed buffoon!" TazirVile shouted.

"Mine makes three of whatever size yours is—it's in the genes; I'm perfectly balanced while you're not." Master Vile said back.

"Perfectly balanced? You call yourself perfectly balanced? You're the most unbalanced being in the Universe!"

"That's the worse comeback I've ever heard." Master Vile's eyes flicked left and then right quickly before centering on his uncle again. "But, of course, I wasn't expecting anything better than that from someone who's got nothing more than a nub between the legs."

"Tazzy—"

"Tazzy, don't you dare comment any further on that subject." Ashaklar, who had just teleported to the area, and who had heard a small mention about her son's phallus, said sharply.

"Stay out of this, Woman." DuruVile said tersely. "You have no understanding on the matter that they're speaking of anyways."

"And what's that suppose to mean?" Ashaklar asked DuruVile.

"Nothing more than that." DuruVile replied. He went quiet for a second or two before saying something else. "You married a miner/farmer—them folk are very well known for their small cocks and "bed manners". Keep yourself out of what you have no clue of what's being spoken of."

"I know you're not referring to me as not being able to keep my wife satisfied in the sack." Cheshire said.

Ashaklar looked at Cheshire quickly before sighing. She stepped out of the way; sometimes things were best left to be said and fought over by the men.

"I'm just saying—you're not a Surfeit, nor are you a conquer. You're a farmer and a miner, which entitles you to the ownership of something small between the legs and poor bed manners." DuruVile said quickly.

"You're really low, you know that? You think you can show up somewhere then start in on someone who's just an innocent bystander and get away with it and you also think you can—"

"I don't think of anything. I know for a fact—"

"Your "fact" is wrong."

"My "fact" is correct."

"If you knew jack spit about the Zetakin race you'd go blue in the face and fast!" Cheshire snapped, his dark blue face went nearly black in his fury. "Our males are healthy. Vivacious. Our females come screaming after us—I practically find bruises on my backside every morning after I and my wife spend a night in bed."

"You make your species sound like a woman's deepest fantasy—that makes me laugh deeply inside." DuruVile replied.

"In reference to your time in being married to my wife, my species probably is." Cheshire said back. His O-shaped mouth curved up on one corner as he smiled a sideways smile. "Or, should I say, _according_ to my wife—from what she tells me, I'm ten times better than you in the sack."

"You know nothing about nothing during my relations with Ashaklar." DuruVile spoke angrily.

"I know enough—like how much of a joke you were in the sack; like how much you left Ashaklar hanging on certain nights; like how you preferred to do the hop-in then hop-out routine; like how your antics in the sack caused her to feel pain." Cheshire listed; DuruVile's face flushed, going either a dark red color or a real dark silver color, in his fury. "I've done none of those things to her and, may I also mention, I loved her for her. I've allowed her to be herself during our marriage and I have sired eight children through her while you only allowed two to be born during your marriage with her."

"You _always_ had a way of wagging _that_ tongue of _yours_!" DuruVile exploded in Ashaklar's direction. "I swear, the better of my five wives has always been Cyla—my current one! She knows when to keep her trap shut when she knows it should be shut; she's very obedient; she looks after the young well, while also allowing me to raise them as I see fit; and she's never spoken wrong of any antics I've done to her in bed. You—" DuruVile pointed a flame-tipped finger at Ashaklar. "—were a mistake in marrying!"

"Duru!" ShaamVile said. He was both embarrassed and shocked over his son's words.

"A mistake for you. A blessing for me." Cheshire spoke in his wife's defense.

"I highly doubt if you've made her at all happy in bed. I see no manliness in you. You are the most unstudly-like man in the Universe!" DuruVile shouted at Cheshire.

"Don't have to act like a stud to be one—sometimes being a stud is best retained for some males." Cheshire said back.

"Go tend your crops and mines, Little Chode!"

"Your words hit home nowhere with me—my "little chode" is bigger than yours." Cheshire said as he went to his wife's side. "And it's got a bulbous tip to it that drives my wife up the wall and back!"

A spell was worked on his daughter to keep her from hearing the conversations that he and his nephew, and his father and stepfather, had. Homsi had proven himself again; he knew what conversations his daughter could listen to and which ones she couldn't. His father and Cheshire had taken a lot of fight out of him and Vile; his nephew's interest had returned to the humans that were moving about the inside of the shield while his interest was currently in his returning to camp. He had a ship to assess. He had damages to look into. Damages to get repaired and then a bill to be made—his nephew was looking at a hefty bill to pay; since he was the cause of what happened, he was the one who was going to pay for the damages. If he had to take him to court on the damages he would.

He left his post. His grandfather watched him go off in Eshal's direction before turning to see what Vile was doing; when he saw that Vile was enthused in something else, he went on his way. He went over to his son; he spoke a few words to him then he nodded his head in Cheshire's direction. Cheshire nodded his head back then turned around. It was Cheshire who alerted them to what was going on on the other side of the shield.

They turned their attention towards the shield quickly; his jaw came close to unhinging itself from his face—he couldn't believe what he was seeing and he bet his left arm and leg that the others were just as surprised as he over what was going on on the other side of the shield.

"You beat us!" Stefan said as he got out of the black limo that, to Horace A. Smith, had a too-red, vibrant interior.

"President Leinart, I presume?" Horace said.

"Yes, and I presume that you are President Smith?"

"Yes,"

"Was hoping to be here sooner," Stefan said as he held his hand out for Horace to shake. Horace grasped the hand then gave it a brisk shake before releasing it. "Welcome to Germany—you'll be treated fairly here, and there's no Master Vile to ruin your day."

"Thank God for that!" Horace smiled. "If you don't mind my asking, a bright, red glow struck all of our crafts prior to our arrival here—was that normal? Do the shields react like that towards aircraft here or was it just us that caused such a dazzling display to happen?"

"Only way I can answer that is to bring out my "secret weapon"." Stefan said. He turned, then went back to the limo.

He had only seen Miss. Irene in person once in his lifetime; that one time was a complete shock—it took him a minute of his preciously given time before being able to address her verbally.

She was a true beauty! The photographs and video footage of her didn't capture her true beauty nor did it ever capture that fiery red glow that was cast from her hair. The too-red, vibrant glow that he saw in the limo's interior wasn't apart of the vehicle—it came from Miss. Irene's hair! Stefan held his hand out to the lovely lady. The lovely lady grasped it, then got out of the vehicle slowly; she looked healthy, happy, and, for some strange reason, tired. Winifred took a step towards her then stopped; she was in awe over what she was seeing. It seemed that everyone in his group was.

"Miss. Irene," Horace said, he presented his hand. The woman took it; Horace noticed that her movements also seemed tired. "Been a while now—glad to see that you've fared well."

"Thank you." Miss. Irene replied.

"She's the reason why the shield reacted like that?" Horace asked Stefan. "The red glow that came out of the shield... our pilots finding themselves unable to man their crafts... the soft landing..."

"All because of me. I can manipulate my shields, or work spells to make certain things happen with them that are mind-boggling." Angel Irene replied for Stefan.

"You sure boggled our minds, Miss. Irene." one of the pilots in the back of the group said.

"She did everything that she could to ensure a safe arrival for you folk." Stefan said. He took Miss. Irene by the arm then led her back towards the limo. "Gentlemen, ladies, if you'll please get into one of the available vehicles. Mr. Smith, if you please, you and I have a lot to speak of. May I ask for you to get into the limo that Miss. Irene, I, and Mr. Ballal drove here in?"

"Sure, don't think the missus and kids will mind being away from me for a while." Horace replied as he went towards the limo. "Where're we headed towards?"

"The first place is standard protocol—the hospital in Rastatt. All the basics will be done there—the check-over of medical files, the vaccinations, etc. After that, we head north—you and everyone in your group have been given lodgings in Karlsruhe." Stefan said as he slid into one of the available seats that were in the limo. "You people take it easy from here on out—no need to worry about paying for lodgings; that's been taken care of for you."

"That's quite nice of you, President Leinart. Just so you know—everyone in my group are penny-less at the moment. We just came here with the basic luggage—clothing, medications, etc." Horace said as he took his turn in getting into the limo.

"Please. Let's go by given names here. Stefan will do fine." Stefan said.

"Likewise—Horace will also do fine for me." Horace said as he closed the limo's open door. "And you, Miss. Irene? What would you like to go by?"

"My given name—Angel." Miss. Irene replied.

"And you, Mr..." Horace said to the man that was seated to Angel's immediate left.

"Ballal—you may call me Ajeet." the man said back.

"Nice to meet you, Ajeet." Horace said.

"Nice to meet you, Horace." Ajeet said back.

"Take us to the Maquet Deutschland GmbH, Fridric." Stefan said. The limo started rolling forward a few seconds later.


	41. Chapter 41

A civilian in his current day and age would be surprised to hear that the electric telegraph was still in existence. The device, which was developed in the 1830's and 1840's by a man named Samuel Morse, had mostly been shutdown in 2006. Its main purpose was to aid in long-distance communication; with the advancements that were made since its debut, it was decided by most of the planet's then-governments to shut it down and retire it.

The Americans that were living under Mount Rushmore had obviously had an old telegraph in one of the mountain's underground bases; they used it to send his country's government a message which, thanks to him, and his military backing and training, was deciphered in less than two hours. The message was recieved on the eighteenth of January; its response was sent the following day. Miss. Irene was asked to assist in getting the Americans that were living under Mount Rushmore to Germany three days later; her response had set off a chain-fall of meetings in Berlin between President Leinart and most of the "Top Dogs" that ran the various branches of his country's government.

Most of the people that were involved in the meetings were for the Americans coming to Germany; there were a small handful that weren't sure about the American refugees and then there was Bettina Gottlieb, who was downright against the refugees' arrival. Katharina Fuchs had let Bettina have it on two different occasions while Wilda Schmidt had mostly stayed quiet... or, at least until Miss. Irene's appearance during the last meeting, then she started standing up for the American refugees too. Gustav Maihofer surprised everyone by saying that the American refugees shouldn't be allowed admittance to the country; he changed his tone after President Leinart explained who the American refugees were. Erhard Scheel, the chief of the Federal Ministry of Economic Cooperation and Development, Ursula Arendt, the chief of the Federal Ministry of Labour and Social Affairs, and Sigmar Röttgen were the unsure ones on the American refugees.

It wasn't the American refugees that made Erhard Scheel, Ursula Arendt, Sigmar Röttgen, and Gustav Maihofer uneasy—it was the risk of having Master Vile, or any of the other aliens that were on the planet, getting into the shields. The telegraph said something about alien aircrafts—jets—being used and it also said something about them aircrafts being stolen for the trip to be made. Master Vile would surely find out about the stolen crafts, and the refugees, and he would surely try to prevent the refugees' escape to freedom—not to mention, if the opportunity arose itself, he'd do everything that he could to penetrate the shield that the jets drove into.

He was among the unsure ones during the first two meetings then he came around to saying that they should allow the American refugees entrance to their country. His arguments were firm, steady, yet also open to comment; he said that his country shouldn't turn its back on the refugees and that his country should be the one to give the refugees the break that they more than deserved to have. Bettina came after him like a raging Hyena; she said something about him being "soft" then she went after President Leinart—all of their jaws dropped when that happened. President Leinart had _not_ been a happy man after that meeting; he gave Bettina a well deserved spanking. Mrs. Gottlieb must of gotten under the man's skin because the meeting that took place the following day, on the twenty-sixth of January, had an extra attendee. Except for Bettina Gottlieb, all of their jaws dropped after Miss. Irene stepped foot into the meeting hall.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. I hear that some of you are speaking on behalf of the shields that I put up and on your fears that my father will get in if the Government of North America is permitted to enter your country." Miss. Irene said—the way she handled herself was amazing! Not a hair out of line or a nervous tick in her voice or actions; she was as confident as can be.

"Master Vile is Concern Number One for us, yes." Gustav Maihofer said after a moment of silence fell over the meeting room. "The crafts that the Americans are said to be planning on using are foreign—alien-in-origin, if you will—so, for them to be admitted, a shield somewhere would have to be taken down."

"Ten stolen crafts wouldn't be overlooked—your vati would know about them and fast." Erhard Scheel said. "We're pretty sure that he'd do anything in his power to capture or prevent them from getting here—the shield over a town or a side-portion of a shield that's over some agreed upon town would have to be taken down before they arrive; we can't allow for that to be done."

"We have video footage of alien beings dressed in military attire stationed at odd places near the shields in Europe—that includes our country, Miss. Irene. We can't allow for an opening in one of the shields to be made. The stationed aliens would alert your papa and fast if such an opening was made available for the Americans to use." Sigmar Röttgen said.

"Who says that one of the shields, or that a portion of one of the shields, has to be taken down?" Miss. Irene asked. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm the one who put the shields up over the civilized areas of this planet. I know their in's and out's very well. I know ways of creating weak points without taking a specific part of a shield down and I also know ways of keeping enemies out while creating a weak point in a shield wall."

"Miss. Irene—" he said. Before he could say anything beyond that, Bettina Gottlieb spoke up.

"I bet you know it all on the shields. Your shields are grand—of your design. But the ones here are getting up there in age; they wouldn't stand up to the pressure that you speak of. It's best that we leave these refugees be. Let Master Vile have them—we are safe, let us remain so."

Bettina had spoken with such an air around herself—she made it sound like she knew it all about the shields that were over their side of the planet when, in reality, she knew just as much as they about them.

The shields were pink; a pink hue was cast from them on both sides. If you was human, you could touch them without a problem sparking up while, if you was alien, and you touched one of them, you'd be zapped back. Except for that one time, where the old shield that was over the city of Berlin fell, no other parts of the shields that were over Europe, Eurasia, or the Eastern or Western island nations had fallen or failed after being put up. All they knew about the shields were the basics; Miss. Irene was the source that put them up so she knew all about them—their in's, out's, fault's, and strength's. Mrs. Gottlieb had obviously decided to forget all about knowing the basics. She continued to be a thorn in their sides. That final meeting was a fiery one—Miss. Irene and Mrs. Gottlieb had gotten into it on more than one occasion before the meeting's conclusion.

"She reminds me of someone who once betrayed me a long time ago, Stefan." Miss. Irene said of Bettina Gottlieb after Bettina left the meeting hall. "Do you recall a General Faulk in the history books?"

"If I'm incorrect in the details I apologize—the General tried to hand you off to your fader; exchange for money, I believe." President Leinart replied.

"He was a four-star General. He threw her out of a moving car, he then drove off—thinking himself scot-free of her. He died a most gruesome death shortly afterwards, if I read correctly." he added.

"You're both correct—I'd keep an eye on that woman; she don't seem the trustworthy sort." Miss. Irene said.

The agreed upon plan was for the Americans to show up at 6:45 a.m.; the pit-stop that President Leinart had asked them to do would of only taken them five or ten minutes to do, so the estimated time for arrival was 6:55 a.m. The American refugees didn't show up at the agreed upon time. It was nearly eight in the morning; they got up extremely early for this and they were kept waiting for nearly two hours before the crafts that were carrying the American refugees were seen. Miss. Irene was nearly asleep on his shoulder; he moved ever so slightly to adjust his sitting position then went still so she could rest—something, of which, he thought she more than deserved to have. He was rather worried about her.

Something funny happened with her eyes when she used her powers to distort the shield that was over the southern portion of Steinmauern. The golden-yellow rings that were around her black pupils had grown; the emerald-green irises that were in her eyes had shrunk—had nearly become non-existent as the golden-yellow rings expanded. Her pupils had also grown in size. Her eyes had remained looking like that for all of five minutes before returning to their normal coloration; Miss. Irene had also used a stick that she called a "wand" to aid her in distorting the shield. Miss. Irene dropped to her knees after her final act of distorting the shield was complete—the early wake-up, her making some of the men, women, and children that were hiding-out under Mount Rushmore appear in Steinmauern, and the shield distortion had taken a lot out her.

"Living underground—in them catacombs and bases—was fun, for a while. Then it got boring; our movements were extremely restricted while living underground. We were all aching for some outside exercise and sunlight!" the American president, Horace A. Smith, was saying. "Most of the wives say that the best thing that came out of our self-banishment was the prohibition of smoking—everyone who smoked was forced to quit after moving into them catacombs and bases. We were forced to live on just the basics—that includes the consumption of food and drink."

"Pardon if I offend but you do look a little underweight." President Leinart, who was to the American President's immediate left, said.

"I _feel_ like I've lost a little weight," the American president replied. "I use to weigh two hundred and ten pounds—bet I'm twenty pounds below that now."

"How'd you people get by for so long?" President Leinart asked. "How'd you keep stocked on supplies—food, water, medicines, etc?"

"Had to rely on one of the kids to befriend a ranger who worked in the park that Rushmore's in. The ranger brought us supplies three, maybe four times a month." Horace Smith replied. "That was a hair-raising ordeal! All of us adults were known—the kids were not; we were forced to do something that we normally wouldn't do."

"None of you hunted?" Miss. Irene asked sleepily.

"Several of us were tempted to do so but, in the end, the fear got us." Horace replied. "We feared that, if any of us were seen wandering about the park, we'd be found and then captured—we wanted to keep on a down-low as long as we could."

"What made you decide to leave the country?" President Leinart asked.

"That blasted father of hers started building military bases near Rushmore—one was built in two months time then two others were started; they were half-completed by the time another was announced as being built. Our hide-out was being encroached upon—we needed to get out and fast." Horace said heatedly.

"Typical—not surprised that he'd build military bases in a park." Angel Irene said. "Once he takes something over he does his best to put his stamp to it—even if it scars or destroys beloved, precious, or long-standing parks or landmarks."

"He's going to destroy North and South America by the year's conclusion, I fear." Horace said. "The people on that side of the planet despise him—they want him out."

"Feeling's mutual." Stefan, Ajeet, and Angel said.

It was a near fifteen minute drive to the hospital that was in the city of Rastatt; President Leinart and President Smith spoke the entire way there, while Miss. Irene spoke only when she felt fit to. He was too caught-up in his worry over the lovely lady to indulge in much conversation. Miss. Irene fell asleep twice only to come-to in a jerk-like way that spooked all of them. When she spoke, she did so distantly. She also seemed to be having trouble in keeping her hands steady in her lap.

He gave her hands a gentle patting after they continued to shake and jerk; the woman's head snapped up after he did that. Her eyes flicked about the inside of the vehicle then they became hidden behind the lids that protected them against harmful materials, bacteria, and projectiles. Stefan reached over to pat her on the leg after she did that; he was quick in both swatting his hand away and in telling him that it was best to leave her be. Stefan gave him a watch-it look then went back to his conversation with the American president.

"This woman's what, over two thousand years old? Maybe what she did in helping the Americans get here was too much for her to handle." he thought as he continued to worry over his friend.

A thousand horrible possibilities ran through his head. Maybe she was getting too old to continue helping them. Maybe her powers had dwindled over the years. She might of worked herself nearly to death in helping the Americans get to the shield's interior. He didn't know much about the woman's personal life; did she have a sex life? Could she be pregnant and be suffering from the effects of being pregnant? Could it just be the fact that she woke up at nearly three in the morning? Had something upstairs, in the brain, been damaged during her effort to get the Americans to the shield's interior safely? Had she suffered a stroke of some sort? All that and more ran through his head; he wanted to tell the driver, Fridric, to hurry on getting to the hospital. He was afraid that something bad had happened to his friend.

"Her color's good." he thought as he checked her over for signs of stress. He gently pried one of her eyes open after he took note of the color of her flesh. "Eyes look good—they're back to normal, color's good. Can't tell if the pupil dilated normally or not."

"Mr. Ballal, what're you doing?" Stefan asked after he saw him take Miss. Irene's hand.

"Pulse is normal—sixty beats a minute." Ajeet thought as he placed his friend's hand back on her lap. He placed his hand on her forehead next. "Not feverish—no heat or sweat at all."

"Mr. Ballal?" Stefan said, now he sounded anxious.

He was in the process of taking the pocketknife, that had a built-in flashlight on one end, out from the pocket of his vest when the driver said that they had reached their destination. Stefan gave him a funny look then reached for the handle that was on the vehicle's back, left-side passenger door. The man got out of the vehicle then walked around to the side that Miss. Irene was on; the back, right-side passenger door was opened, Miss. Irene was helped out of the vehicle then the door was shut. He was left with the American president—who had a most displeased, suspicious look in the eye. He and the American president stared at one another for a few seconds before getting out of the vehicle; the American president went off towards the hospital while he went towards Stefan, who was nearly holding Miss. Irene up.

"What was all that in the car, Ajeet?" his country's president asked him.

"Checking her over—did you notice the way she was acting in the limo? I was concerned that she hurt herself while helping the Americans get into the shield." Ajeet replied.

"She's tired—with having a day-job, a house, and five kids to keep up coupled with having to get things straight with them five kids on why she'd be out of the house so early, along with her getting up at two forty-five in the morning, then using her powers while not being fully awake... she's fine. She'll recover in a short."

"You can't know that—you practically have her doubled over on your arm; that don't look "fine" to me." Ajeet said back.

"Before we even met up this morning she warned me that she might get to looking right tired after helping the Americans get into the shield." Stefan said as he picked Angel up. "She was vague on the reason why but she said that it had something to do with her not being fully awake or in-tune with herself—it might take her an hour, maybe an hour and a half, to be like her old self again."

"You sure on that last part?"

"From what she told me, yes. Now will you quick jabbering and get in the building—Miss. Irene will be placed in a room near where the Americans are being looked over; I'd like for either you or me to be near her until we head off towards Karlsruhe."

"Lead the way, Mr. President."

There were several, conveniently placed, too-green shrubs in the parking lot that was adjacent the large, well-kept building that had blue tinted windows; he poked his head out from behind one of them carefully. His eyelids dropped as he watched the humans file into the building. While he was curious about the humans that hitched a ride to the building in green-camo military transport cargo trucks his interest didn't lie with them fully. His interest lie in the woman who hitched a ride to the building in a long, black limo with three men; he was very concerned about her!

A shocked quiet had settled over the group that he was apart of fifteen minutes ago—no one had expected for her to show up! Her whereabouts from May of 4100 to now weren't known; it seemed that they were now. The questions that were coming-to in all of their minds were overlapping one another; none of the new questions that were going on upstairs were being answered... yet. He took it upon himself to contact Eldass, Kalach, and his twin brother before racing off towards the shield; the fold-out hoverboard, that he had on his person, was retrieved and then thrown out in front of him not long after he entered the shield. He started following the vehicles that the humans had gotten into after jumping on the thing. He was well on his way down the road in pursuit of the vehicles when Eldass, Kalach, and Olok showed up; they were just arriving to the area where he was now.

He, Eldass, Kalach, and Olok were five minutes in their pursuit of the vehicles when their employer radioed in; he instructed them to be in constant contact with him and to do all that they could to separate his wife from the humans that were in her company. None of them knew her condition; she looked stiff-acting and slow to him. From what he could tell, it seemed that the bigger, taller of the male humans that were with her had "control" of her. He found this to be a very strange development—the bigger, taller male human hadn't only gotten his Mistress out of the vehicle but he also took her to the side; he held her close to him for a short while before picking her up and then taking her into the building. The shorter, trimmer male human had followed on his heels.

"Ulok," Eldass said after taking one of his feet from his hoverboard. "What did you see? Did you—"

"Shhhh," Ulok slashed his throat, he then pointed at the humans that were still going into the building. "Keep your voice down—there's a lot of humans going in; one might hear you if you continue speaking that loud."

"Sorry," Eldass said as he collected his hoverboard. Olok and Kalach rode up next; instead of speaking, they just collected their hoverboards then stood in line behind him and Ulok. "What'd you see?"

"The Mistress's actions aren't right—she seems stiff and slow. The same male that put her in the limo fifteen minutes ago picked her up soon after their arrival here; they went into the building thirty seconds ago." Ulok replied.

"This looks like a hospital of sorts," Olok said. "Was she brought here because of an injury or—"

"Think the excess humans—the ones that were in the jets—were brought here." Ulok replied.

"Contact Master Tazir, Eldass. Tell him where we are and what we're seeing." Olok said. "Think Ulok, Kalach, and I should head over to the building—scope things out, find Mistress Angel, then get out with her."

Eldass did just that as they crossed the stretch of semi-circle that was in front of them. The last of the humans filed into the building quickly; they weren't noticed. The convoy of vehicles moved off as they crossed the street. Except for the moment where they were unsure about going into the building—the doors had "blinked-out" on them after they reached the building's touch-sensitive mat; none of them had ever seen doors that act like that before—, they entered the building quickly and silently. The building was mostly quiet on the inside; the hushed sound of quiet conversations was heard, the light click of nurses heels was heard, and the electric hums of elevators and other machinery was heard. Ulok, Olok, and Kalach walked across the lobby briskly then went to the first flight of stairs that they saw. Eldass joined them a few seconds later; he said not a thing to them as they went up to the building's second floor.

Olok's assumption that the building was a hospital was proved correct; they hadn't really looked around while on the first floor to see what type of building they were in. When they reached the building's second floor, the assumption that the building was a hospital was confirmed. There were many open, half-open, and closed rooms on the floor that they were on. Most of the rooms that they walked by were empty; there were a few that had occupants in them. The floor that was under their feet was slick, newly waxed, blue and green linoleum; the walls and ceiling were a light blue color. There were a few painted pictures of flowers and scenery on the walls to make the place seem a bit more cheery. It was a bit chilly in the building and the smell of medicine and alcohol was nauseating; Olok stopped only once to gain control of his nose, which was tingling thanks to the medicinal and alcohol smell that was in the building, then went on his way.

"Ulok," Eldass whispered. Ulok stopped then looked back; he watched as his co-worker shut his communicator off then, in full understanding, did the same with his.

"Think Master Tazir will understand—this is such a quiet building; any form of conversation between he and us would create an easy echo in here." Ulok whispered.

"Best turn off any other devices on you that make noise," Olok said. Ulok and Eldass turned to look at him. Ulok saw that his twin was turning his beeper off; he thought that this was a good idea too.

Ulok turned his beeper off quickly then grabbed his cellular phone from the holster that was on his belt; he was in the process of turning that off when Eldass grabbed and then started using his phone.

"The building that we're in is very quiet; we've turned all form of noise-making communication devices on us off to ensure that we're not heard and that no panic arises from our being inside." he wrote and then sent the message off quickly; he then switched his cellular phone's setting from ring to vibrate. Eldass then grabbed his everyday cellular phone from his belt; he shut that off completely before placing it back in its holster.

The question of whether it mattered if they kept their communications devices—their communicators, their cellular phones, their beepers, etc.—on or not never crossed their minds; they were out, walking in the open, so their action of turning their phones, beepers, and communicators off was really not necessary. If so much as a doctor, a nurse, or a patient walked out from a room, or rounded a corner, they'd be seen. There were cameras in the building; the security officers had probably already sounded an alarm to their being in the building. Probably every human in the building knew about them. None of this was thought of or discussed; they walked on as if none of that was of a concern.

Their employer would notice their mistake quickly—he was, at the moment, punching a message to Eldass, demanding that they change their plan and fast before being seen. Eldass would read his message some thirty minutes later, after it went from being meaningful to meaningless.

The hushed conversations that were going on downstairs were no longer hushed upstairs; there were a lot of people on the second floor and they were either speaking in normal inside voices or in slightly elevated voices. A woman was trying to calm her child, who was upset over having to be given a shot; a nurse was trying to get a woman, who was a little too overjoyed in finally being away from Master Vile's tyranny, to calm down; a man was saying something about how badly he was treated by his former employer; another man was saying something on how he didn't know the whereabouts of two-thirds of his group. There seemed to be a lot of children on the level; most of them were speaking in normal inside voices. The younger-sounding children were talking loudly. The sound of hospital carts being pushed along in certain rooms was growing louder by the second; Ulok was so absorbed in all the noise that he lost his bearings for a second. He walked around the corner into what he called a Mess of Humans. Kalach, when he saw the error that his co-worker made, grabbed Ulok by the collar of his white tuxedo jacket. He yanked Ulok back, out of view of the humans, then stood with every muscle at-the-ready to use should anything happen that required anything physical.

"We can play outside again!" a young-sounding female child said excitedly.

"We can enjoy all the things we use to enjoy before we went underground." a teenage-sounding male child said.

"Can't wait to get back to working on my tan." a teenage-sounding female child said.

"I'll probably sit in a yard or something after it starts to rain." another teenage-sounding, male child said.

"We nearly missed a year of school—maybe they'll exempt us from going to school for the rest of the year." another teenage-sounding male child said.

"Or just tell us that we don't have to go back to school ever!" a young child said.

"Don't even think that, Eunice." the mother of the child named Eunice said quickly. "You'll start school in the fall, like usual."

"Ice cream! MnM's and other candy! Pizza! Oh, I want it all and now!" a child who sounded near-teenagerly said excitedly.

"Watching tv and listening to music again—I look forward to that, wasn't able to do that underground." a teenage-sounding female child said.

"Think we're alright—need to watch where you're going, Buddy." Kalach said after sighing.

"Didn't know that they were in the hallway—I figured that they were in a room or something." Ulok said.

"Seems like the people on this planet don't know how to act after a conquering," Olok said after his two co-workers went silent. "Eldass, tell me—you were around when Master Vile conquered the M-51 Galaxy, did people on Moas speak like that after Master Vile came itching along?"

"It's called the All-Hope-Is-Gone talk—yes, there was a lot of that going around after Moas was conquered. The adults acted all nervous and downtrodden while the kids acted like everything was over." Eldass replied. "Sounds like the people around the corner are refugees—from the Americas, I presume. Now that they're behind a shield again they're hoping that their lives will become better."

Eldass _would_ know all about Master Vile's take-over of the M-51 Galaxy, Ulok, Olok, and Kalach realized. Eldass was far older than any of them; he was a hundred and fifteen thousand, five hundred, and ten years old. He would of been a grown man when Master Vile set his sights on the M-51 Galaxy; shit, come to think of it, he might of been married by then. He might of sired some his older children by then—the man might of taken shelter somewhere with his family when Master Vile started his campaign to conquer Moas; the history books all claimed that the conquest of the M-51 Galaxy wasn't a clean or blood-less one. Master Vile's army left a trail of carnage behind it everywhere. Civilians, militants, politicians... they were all apart of the carnage that happened some eighty thousand years ago.

Eldass poked his head around the corner twice to ensure that they hadn't been seen before starting the slow process of going into the room. He hugged the wall as he went along; he did his best to move carefully, yet he also tried to keep as close to the shadows as he could. When he reached a long desk, he sighed; he took two deep breaths before motioning for his three co-workers to come along. Olok imitated his actions perfectly while Ulok was a little clumsy in crossing the room. It took Kalach a while to get across the room; when he reached the desk he came close to collapsing. His face was slick with sweat and his chest was rising and falling heavily. It looked like he just went through a big scare. Eldass gave Kalach a pat on the shoulder then walked along the backside of the desk; he only stopped after reaching the end of it. He found that he and his co-workers were trapped; a long hallway ran off the room that they were currently in. There was nothing for them to use to hide behind in the hallway so, if they chose to go down it, they would, without a shadow of a doubt, be seen.

He sighed as he turned to go back to his three co-workers; it seemed that all of their stressful work in getting to the desk was for nothing. He was just reaching his co-workers when a feminine voice that they all recognized was heard.

"It's early, they're probably still asleep, but I want to make a quick call." the voice that belonged to their employer's wife said. "Just to let them know that all's well."

"I see no problem with you using the receptionist's phone to make that call, Miss. Irene." a low, husky-sounding male voice replied.

There were three openings on their side of the desk; Kalach, Ulok, and Olok took one of them while Eldass jumped into another. The sound of someone coming closer to the desk was heard. The door partition of the desk was opened and then closed; the footsteps were heard again. Kalach, Ulok, and Olok pushed themselves far back into their opening while Eldass remained standing where he was; he was frozen in panic, so he wouldn't of been able to do much of anything anyways. Kalach watched as a pair of brown, flat-soled ankle boots walked by. The legs that came out from the boots were smooth as silk and healthy-looking; Kalach made a note of this for his employer. The boots went down the aisle that was on their side of the desk before stopping; the sound of a chair being pulled out from under the desk was heard. Kalach imagined his employer's wife sitting down in the chair and he also imagined her making a call and then being whisked away to some other part of the building. Kalach took a breath in then, while holding the breath in, peeked out from the opening that he and his two co-workers were in. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. Mistress Angel, looking every bit as healthy as could be, but also looking quite tired, was seated at the very opening that Eldass was in. Kalach took his cellular out; he turned it on then typed a hurried message to his employer while keeping an eye on his employer's wife.

"Mistress Angel in front of us now; looks healthy. Wearing boots, a tie-dye blue, shoulderless shirt, and a pair of knee-high jean-like shorts. The ring that you gave her is still on her finger; she's using the phone to call someone. Not sure who, but listening-in with hopes that a name is used."

If Eldass didn't move to the far right-side corner of the opening that he was in at the last possible second she would of discovered him. Her legs were crossed under the desk; the tip of one of the boots that Hazaar had gotten her for Christmas was just a fraction of an inch from the Goblin's body. Without a concern in the world, she grabbed the phone that was on the desk. She started dialing the number to her house while trying to sustain a yawn then, after that number was dialed, she leaned back.

It was a long time since she tapped into her evil side—the side that she inherited from her father and the side that was extremely powerful. She learned a long time ago that the use of her evil side drained her of energy so, with every use, it'd take her around an hour to an hour and a half to feel peppy and back to herself again. Up to fourteen hundred years ago, she didn't know the full potential of her evil side; it took some years to master and get use to this side. After she did so, she accepted it. She could tap into her inherited, evil side to do most anything; the distortion of the shield, and the gaining control of the jets, was easy. Making the two jets that were following the first group of refugee jets crash into the shield was also easy... and fun. She enjoyed giving the two aliens that manned them two jets a lesson. She forced herself to leave her father and the other alien pilot be; the forced-crashing of the two other jets had been nice, but it also took a toll on her. She repelled her father and the other alien manned jet instead; once the refugee jets were released from her control, she collapsed. If not for Stefan, she would of gone face-first into the dirt.

The use of her wand, and two spells, had aided her in distorting the shield while the use of her evil side had done the rest. She was glad that it was all over now; she could now rest and regain her energy. She had already agreed to accompany Stefan, Ajeet, and the Americans to Karlsruhe some hours ago; she was probably going to miss being home for breakfast. After she felt a little energy return to her, she decided to call home; before they went to bed last night, Bile agreed to keep the phone in his room. She could imagine it now; the phone was ringing, waking him up, and he was probably rolling over, moaning his annoyance over being woke up. Either a slap on the phone's handset would happen or her son would knock the phone from his bedside table to the floor before realizing that it was her that was calling.

"Anything?" Ajeet, who was on the other side of the desk from her, asked.

"Nope," she replied. She placed the phone down on its station, left it there for a few seconds, then picked it up again. She dialed her family's number again before leaning back in the chair. "It'll probably take another call before he—"

"Hhhhrow, who's zzzzis?" her son said sleepily.

"It's your alarm clock telling you to get out of bed, Lazy Bones." Angel replied.

"Ma?"

"Yes, dear. Just wanted to call to tell you that all's well here. I'll be a while so don't keep anyone waiting on breakfast." Angel replied.

"K, can I go back to sleep now?"

"Knowing you, you'll of fallen back asleep after I say yes." Angel said.

"Ma?"

"Go back to sleep—I'll see you in a few hours." Angel said. She hung the phone up after it went dead on the other end.

"Everything alright at home?" Ajeet asked.

"Seems to be—he's probably draped over the side of his bed now; so sleepy he couldn't get back into bed fully." Angel replied.

"Funny—brings back memories of myself and my sons doing that at his age." Ajeet said.

She got up from the chair that she had seated herself in. She pushed the chair back under the desk then went back to the door partition; she let herself out from the backside of the desk at the same time that Eldass leaped out from the opening that she had previously trapped him in. Ajeet took her by the arm gently then started leading her towards the room that had a small bed in it.

"The bracelet that you're wearing is quite lovely." Ajeet said of the vintage, blue rhinestone bracelet that she had on her left wrist.

"Thank you—a gift from my son. Most of what I'm wearing came from him—he got it all for me for Christmas."

"Don't mean to offend—you look good in anything, Miss. Irene—but it seems that the color green would match your eyes, hair, and skin complexion well." Ajeet said.

"No offense felt—most everyone says that."

"The boys seems to take care of you well—I've noticed a few things during the few times that I visited your place; crude observations of your sons seem to show that they both love and take great care in looking after you." Ajeet said.

"And I them." Angel replied. She then yawned into the back of her hand.

The thought of all that she had gotten from the boys for Christmas drifted across her mind as she was led into the room that she was to rest in until the Americans were all through with their hospital checks.

Up to her sons being born, she had never really been one for celebrating the holiday; the holiday was treated as one more for her boys than for her, yet her sons did their best to include her in on the festivities too. She told her sons to not go overboard in their shopping for her; while there were more presents under the tree for them there had also been a lot for her under the tree too.

Bile had gotten her a Chinese styled, off-the-shoulder, embroidered red lace party dress; a red garnet, flower-drop necklace; and a red garnet bracelet—where he found the money to get the two pieces of jewelry was beyond her. There was no way in hell that she'd believe him if he told her that he found them in a dump. The two pieces of jewelry were just too new and nice to of been found at a dump. Lhaklar had gotten her a fringed, red suede motorcycle leather jacket, some music, and two cookbooks for Christmas—while the music and books were nice, she was blown away by the motorcycle jacket, which, again, could not of been found at a dump; it was just too fine of a jacket. Like she said earlier, Hazaar had gotten her the pair of brown, flat-soled ankle boots, the tie-dye blue, shoulderless shirt, and the vintage, blue rhinestone bracelet that she was wearing—the pair of knee-high, jean-like shorts, that she was wearing, were found at the dump some months ago; they fit her nicely and they did seem to go with her outfit well. Lazeer had gotten her a pair of house slippers, a red/pink, tie-dye nightgown, and a 10-pocket hanging shoe storage organizer—nothing outrageous or out of the ordinary with them gifts. The 10-pocket shoe organizer was currently hanging in her closet; it was being put to good use. Guyunis had gotten her a jewelry box, that had a white leather interior, and an antique walnut finish exterior, and three pairs of earrings—all of which looked quite expensive; she wasn't going to believe him for a second if he ever came around to saying that he found the pair of blue topaz, the pair of diamond, or the pair of sterling silver peridot earrings at a dump. The earrings that her adopted son had given her were just too nice—and expensive-looking—for a dump.

Christmas was expensive for her but she enjoyed the happy, joyous looks on her children's faces after they unwrapped their gifts; while she was glad that the hustle and bustle of the holidays was over, she was keeping her eyes open for things for the boys for next Christmas. While she didn't know how long she and the boys had left on the planet—with her family in Germany, looking for and causing all sorts of trouble for her and her sons, she wasn't sure of anything anymore—she was trying her best to keep moving forward in life. Her sons were already doing that; she was proud of them for moving past the trying things that were currently happening in their lives so fast.

"The woman in the next room over seems to have a lot to talk about," Ajeet said after the woman, who introduced herself to one of the nurses as Caroline Louise Roberts, continued to yap about the things that happened in her life the last eight months.

"They all do—having an ear to speak to is good therapy for folk like them. They've gone through a lot in the last eight months." Angel replied.

"That bastard Vile forced me to continue working for him in the White House!" Caroline Louise Roberts was saying. "He beat me—"

"It does look like he did a number on you, Mrs. Roberts." the nurse in the room said.

"He did more than that! I'm lucky to not be pregnant by the bastard! Besides the daily physical abuse, he also used me like a prostitute—I hope he rots in Hell one day!"

"He did what, ma'am?" the nurse asked.

"Maybe I should go ask them to not speak so loudly," Ajeet said. He started towards the door.

"He raped me! He beat me—he abused me with his hands and with his words—and he raped me!"

"Mr. Ballal—if you're headed to the next room over please give the woman my condolences." Angel said, surprise and anger were heavy in her voice. "I'm not a bit surprised that my father would do that—seems the type of thing he'd do. Disgusting!"

He went to the room so quickly that he never noticed the four creatures that were stealing towards the room that he took Miss. Irene to. When he entered the room that the hysterical woman was in he stopped short; while being in the military had prepared him for a lot of things, and while he saw a lot of things in his life, he had never seen such a thing as the tortured mess that was seated on the room's one medical couch before in his life!

What hair she had was light blonde in color—it was cropped very short; in a near buzz cut. Her eyes were blue; there was a ring of black around the right one that wasn't makeup. The woman was lacking most of her fingernails. The tips of her fingers were red and bruised; there were all sorts of bruises on the woman's face, neck, and shoulders. He presumed that all of that had come from Master Vile—she spoke rather negatively of the man, so he presumed that he was the culprit for her multiple injuries. The woman was wearing a pair of jeans and a white tank-top; there was a blue sweater on her lap. The pair of shoes, that were on her feet, looked a size too big for her. The woman and the nurse turned to look at him after he entered the room; the woman looked him over a few times before turning to look out the room's one window.

"Sir, this is a private room. I'm afraid that I'll have to ask you to leave." the nurse said.

"Of course, just wanted to tell you two that you're speaking a bit too loud—everyone can hear what you're saying." Ajeet said, he turned to leave. He was about to leave the room when he remembered what his friend had told him; he turned back to face the two women. "Miss. Irene's in the next room over—she heard every word you said, ma'am. She wishes to give you her condolences on what happened—she's not too happy on hearing what her fader did to you."

"The feeling's mutual, Mister!" the woman snapped. "Tell her thank you—I can see the reason why she doesn't want to be around the man. He's horrible!"

He left the room that the two women were in; the door was promptly shut behind him. The muffled voices of the two women could still be heard, but they weren't as loud as they use to be. He went back to the room that Miss. Irene was in; Stefan was off somewhere, speaking with either the American president or with someone else that was apart of the now former Government of North America. Since Stefan was so busy speaking to the Government of North America, he was left in charge of Miss. Irene—a task that he was A-okay with; he was glad to have a chance to get to know her more. He thought that, if they were to be friends, they should get to know one another a little.

"Leave the details of what that woman looked like alone—only tell her if she asks." he told himself as he went back to the room that his friend was in. "Knowing that poor woman, she'll ask for a pregnancy exam and then, if she turns up pregnant, an abortion—one of the few times where I'll agree with an abortion; never been a fan of ripping unborn lives from the womb. I'll make an exception for that woman, though. She was raped—if she turned up as pregnant, she'd be carrying a baby by the worst known man in the Universe. Poor creature!"

The books claimed that Miss. Irene caught pregnant on her first forced coupling with her fader; that child was aborted on a planet some distance from Earth. Bile was conceived some months later. Miss. Irene actually confirmed her feelings with that pregnancy—she didn't want Bile; she spoke bad of him all throughout the first, second, and most of the third trimester before changing her tone on him. Miss. Irene didn't like the idea of fader-daughter pairings; she didn't go with incest, yet she accepted the duty of motherhood after her firstborn was born. He knew for a fact that she loved Bile as much as she did her other kids. The books all claimed that, after fending for herself in the desert for some weeks, she bonded with her then-unborn child; while Miss. Irene hadn't commented on that claim, he did guess that that was what happened. Weren't there stories about how certain mutters, who wanted to give their children away to adoption agencies, changed their tone on their children after they saw or held them for that first time? That was a yes; he had heard them, he had read about them, and he had seen news stories about them.

He turned to go into the room that his friend was in only to be surprised to find that the door was closed. Had he not left the door half open when he left the room? He shook his head then grabbed the door knob. He twisted the door knob then went in. He stopped short after entering the room; it took him only a second to process what was going on before getting down to action.

The single bed, that Miss. Irene was put in two or three minutes ago, was empty. Miss. Irene was up against the wall; four of them Troll-like beings were positioned around her. One of the four had his hand wrapped around her wrist. The creature looked to of been in the process of pulling Miss. Irene away from the wall when he walked in. All of the creatures turned when he entered the room; the one that was in the middle rushed at him while the other three formed a tight ring around his friend.

The Troll had a very compact, burly body on him! His arms were impressively muscled while his legs were "trim" but still nicely built. The creature had brown skin, a large nose, and a very wrinkled brow from which two or three warts sprouted from. For some odd reason, the creature was wearing a brown tuxedo with matching shoes; when he and the creature collided, he saw stars. He ducked most of the creature's punches; his nose was instantly broken on one punch and one of his eyes went "dark" after another. He was thrown off-balance by the creature, who stood three inches shorter than he, after one of the creature's fists slugged home into his left ear. He fell to the floor, then found himself sliding towards the wall after the creature kicked his foot into his right side.

"That's enough, Kalach. Think you taught him two lessons instead of one." one of the creatures, this one having light blue skin, light blue eyes, and fluffy white hair, said.

"What's going on in that room over there?" one of the people in the lobby asked. Ajeet's eyes went wide; there was no way in hell that he wanted anyone in the lobby involved in what was going on in the room that he was in. He scrambled to his feet then ran to the door. He slammed it shut then locked it to ensure that no one would enter—or get hurt by any of the creatures that were in the room with him and Miss. Irene.

"Ajeet—"

"Stay right there, Miss. Irene!" Ajeet said sternly. He took the pocketknife, that was in his vest pocket, out then flicked it open.

"I normally don't agree with the words of Slime." the brown-skinned, burly-bodied Troll said. The Troll suddenly turned halfway around; he acknowledged his companions quickly in a language that Ajeet didn't understand. To Ajeet, the creature did nothing more than make sounds or noises. The creature's companions seemed to of understood him perfectly, though.

Ajeet took advantage of the creature's attention being halfway absorbed in something else. He lunged forward. He slashed his pocketknife at the creature then he jumped to the side after the creature swung at him. He timed himself afterwards; he either watched or mimicked the creature's movements to either intercept it or keep himself from being attacked. He dodged two punches and a kick then he lunged; a spurt of blood that was a weird, yellow color came out from the creature's arm and then from its shoulder after he swiped and then jabbed his knife at it.

His use of a pocketknife must of angered the creature because it suddenly started fighting with more cunning and savagery. The creature lunged and then pulled back at mid-lunge; it swiped its arm at him after he jabbed the knife forward. He came close to losing his knife—would have hadn't he of locked his fingertips around it at the last second. When the creature charged at him he wasted no time in swinging the knife down. The blade of his knife became embedded in the creature's anterior thigh; the creature yelled then grabbed him by the throat. He was treated to being thrown against the wall and then, not a second later, towards the door. The back of his head smashed through the near-opaque glass window that was in the door. The people that were in the lobby yelled in surprise; he heard Stefan coming; he felt blood course down the back of his head and then into the back of his green and brown camo shirt.

"Ajeet!" Miss. Irene sounded distant, as if she was being taken away. He shook his head then struggled to his feet; he blinked his eyes twice before stumbling forward on legs that seemed more like stumps than legs. He was treated to kissing the floor after having his legs kicked out from under him not long after taking four or five steps forward.

"What're you three doing standing there? Get her out of here!" the Troll that he was fighting with said to his three companions.

There was the sound of a struggle. He heard Miss. Irene tell the creatures to leave her be then he felt a pair of feminine hands drop to his back. He had just picked his head up from the floor when the door behind him exploded from its hinges. A big, firm hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt a second later; he was heaved up from the floor then he was thrown out of the room at the same time that he heard the creatures charge.

"Go, Ajeet!" Stefan shouted. He swung a fist at one of the Trolls that rushed at him then, after the creature fell back, grabbed Angel up from the floor. He ran out of the room with Angel in his arms a second later; the four creatures that were in the room ran out in pursuit of him.

"Mr. Leinart—this was _not_ how I was expecting _my_ January twenty-seventh to start out like!" Angel yelled as he ran along.

"Who are they? What do they want?" Stefan asked as he ran down the hall that ran off the lobby that the American refugees were in.

"Eldass Zultoa, Kalach Speelin, and Ulok and Olok Gzujus—they work for my husband; apparently, they want me."

"They best re-think their want," Ajeet, who was somehow keeping up with them, said. Before he could check his words before saying them he said, "Get her to her bunker, quick!"

Bits and pieces of plaster, insulation, wood, and wires fell on them after an explosion happened behind them; none of them looked back to see what happened. They ran on to the elevator then, when they reached the elevator, they worked to get the doors shut before their pursuers caught up. Stefan and Ajeet managed to get the doors shut, but not in time to avoid having an extra passenger with them—Eldass had managed to "squeeze-in" at the last second.

Angel was thrown against the wall twice after the Goblin ran into the elevator car; Ajeet put the rest of his strength in on the fight that he had with the Goblin then he backed off to let Stefan in on the action. Stefan landed several good left-hooks to the Goblin's face; the Goblin's long nose was swept up towards the elevator car's ceiling after one of the punches then he found himself flying towards the side of the car a second later. Stefan was in the process of giving the Goblin a right good bloody face when the elevator doors opened. Ajeet ran out with Angel on his arm; Stefan followed behind them a few seconds later. The door closed on Eldass before he could re-group his senses; he was sent back up to the second level while Angel, Stefan, and Ajeet ran out the hospital's front doors. Stefan signaled one of the military trucks that was sitting nearby then ran over to it; he threw Angel into the vehicle then he got in behind her. Ajeet leaped into the vehicle a few seconds later. The driver started the vehicle up then drove off right when the four Goblins ran out of the building.

"Think going to Karlsruhe with you two and the Americans is out of the question." Angel said five minutes later.

"Miss. Irene, no offense, but I wouldn't let you step within a foot of Karlsruhe after what just happened." Stefan said. "Where'd them creatures come from? Did they just appear or were they in the room to begin with or... what?"

"Ajeet had just left the room to go tell the two women that were in the next room over that they needed to talk a little less loudly," Angel started to explain. "I had just closed me eyes—was about to slip back into sleep-world—when they came in. When I opened my eyes, they were in front of me; one of them must of closed the door after entering the room. Eldass picked me up after I opened my eyes. Freaked me out so much that I leaped right out of his arms!"

"Who's Eldass?" Ajeet asked.

"The one that you and Stefan fought in the elevator."

"Hope he enjoyed the knuckle sandwich I gave him," Stefan held his fists up; both of his fists were covered in a mixture of his and Eldass's blood. "He might not be able to feel his face for a few hours... or days, considering how ancient he looks."

"They were in the process of trying to calm me down when you came in, Ajeet." Angel went on in explaining what happened in the room that she had previously been in.

"Who was the one that had his hand wrapped around your wrist?" Ajeet asked.

"Ulok,"

"They weren't doing a good job in trying to calm you down, Miss. Irene." Ajeet said. "The act of one wrapping a hand around another's wrist doesn't tick well with me."

"Same here," Stefan said. "Seems you got there just in the nick of time, Ajeet." he said nothing for a few minutes. He let Ajeet search for something to wipe his face with before saying anything else. "Think the Americans know our situation now—Master Vile isn't a problem over here; them damn Trolls and them aliens in the Rastatter Rheinaue camp are."

"Shit! The Americans! Y'think them Trolls went back into the building to mess with any of them?" Ajeet asked.

"From what I saw in the little side mirror that's on my side of the vehicle, they ran out of the building, stopped, then stood in place after seeing that we were well on our way out of the parking lot. They "disappeared" a few seconds later." Stefan replied.

"What do you mean by "they disappeared"?" Ajeet asked.

"Just that," Stefan held his hand up; he made it into a fist then he quickly unfurled his fingers to emphasize that they appeared and then disappeared. "Some sort of effect was left behind. They weren't there afterwards."

"They teleported—that's what he means. They're probably back at their camp now; relaying all of what happened in the hospital." Angel clarified.

"Let's hope that they are." Stefan said. He asked the driver of the vehicle to take them to Elchesheim-Illingen then he leaned back in his seat. He started cleaning his knuckles at the same time that the effects of Angel's former ailment, fatigue, returned with a vengeance. Angel fell asleep while the two men went by their business in cleaning themselves up.


	42. Chapter 42

"Get her to her bunker,"

But bunkers are a defensive fortification designed to protect people, or valued materials, from falling bombs or other attacks.

"Get her to her bunker,"

Bunkers are usually an underground building; they're usually reinforced by concrete and steel and, except for a small window in the door, the building is closed completely off.

"Get her to her bunker,"

No! Not his wife! They wouldn't dare have her in a dark, sealed off, underground building. They wouldn't dare have her away from the boys. They wouldn't dare use her or force her to use her powers to help others.

"Get her to her bunker... Get her to her bunker... Get her to her bunker..."

He rolled over; trying to forget that sentence. Trying to force it from his memory banks. It was a horrible sentence and it brought forth horrible questions and images. Kalach, Ulok, Olok, and Eldass had all said that a human, who went by the name of Ajeet-something or another, had said that; could the human of meant something else or had he been frank in saying that? Anyone with half a brain would know what a bunker was and anyone with half a brain would know that, in some instances, bunkers were used to store POWs or captives. Just the idea of his wife being kept in a creepy, dark, chilly and probably smelly bunker made his skin crawl; it scared him to think of what was happening to her and it also angered him to know that she was manhandled by two men yesterday.

Kalach and Eldass had looked to of gotten into a big brawl during their near thirty minute absence; he only needed to take one look at them to know that something had happened. Kalach's right arm, left shoulder, and right anterior thigh were bleeding pretty badly and Eldass had sported a rather bloody face and a very badly broken nose; the Gzujus twins hadn't a scratch on them, so he automatically knew that they weren't involved in whatever happened. According to Ulok, his wife was taken to a hospital. His lovely wife was mostly handled by an orange-brown haired man; his butlers found her in one of the upstairs hospital rooms. She wasn't guarded at the time but, from what he was told, she had someone accompany her to and then from a desk; she made a phone call to some unknown person before being led back to the room that she was found in.

All four of his butlers claimed that she looked healthy. Her clothing looked nice; not at all like a POW or a captive. Other than looking tired she seemed very healthy, with "good weight and color". There wasn't a hair out of place nor were there any blemishes or marks on her body. She had, in Ulok's words, looked perfect. The memory that he took from Eldass confirmed that; them fine legs of hers—legs, of which, he had, over two thousand years ago, handled during bed play and courtship—were nicely formed without a hint of muscle lossage. Yet another memory that he took from Eldass showed how fit she was; it was amazing how well she looked!

"Her breasts look smaller," his brother said after he gave him a few photographs of what Eldass saw. "She looks the same body-wise except for her breasts—they look a cup smaller in these photographs."

After careful checking of each photograph that he made of the two memories that he took from Eldass's memory banks, he both agreed and disagreed with his brother. In some of the photographs, she did look to have smaller breasts while, in others, her breasts looked the same size; Eldass claimed to of not looked at that area of her body, so he couldn't write that small observation off.

"She was led to a desk by a male human then, after she reached said desk, she made a phone call to someone that she didn't place a name to?" his grandfather said after he looked over the material that he gave him. "Very curious on that one—could it of been one of the Lads that she phoned?"

"Possibly was—the human that was with her did say something about doing something her caller had done at "his age"." he said back.

Hope had run high in him for a short while only to be shot down to zero after his father saw the material that he compiled on the newest development. His father had put forth the suggestion that his wife might be sleeping with someone and that the "his age" thing might pertain to someone younger than the "Ajeet" person—who, his father said, looked to be in his middle human years. While he didn't want to think of his wife phoning a lover he did have to consider that a possibility—along with her being kept as a POW or a captive in a bunker somewhere.

5:39 a.m., that was what the slick, black digital alarm clock, that sat atop the chocolate brown table, that was beside the bed, said. He had an hour to go before the alarm went off, signalling the start of his day. He did nothing more than toss and turn all night long; no sleep had come to him. The shock from the day before, and the many questions that stemmed from that shock, had kept him up. How many others had remained awake? His mother? Stepper? His father... grandfather... Homsi... Eldass... could Eshal of done the same as he in doing nothing more than toss and turn all night long? He stared at the clock for a minute before sitting up; the sheets slumped down to his waist, and his knees made small mountains appear down lower on the bed. He rubbed his eyes then reached over to shut the alarm that was on the clock off. With that done, he got out of bed; he did his morning routine in the bathroom quickly before returning to the master bedroom that it was adjacent to. He took his time in getting dressed then left the room.

Except for a general clean-up, nothing was really done to his ship after the attack yesterday. Some of his maids took photographs of the damages done to his ship during the clean-up. Hallway 12 was inaccessible; the ceiling and walls in that part of his ship were just too fragile. Hallway 20 was in dire need of repairs—thanks to the fire that raged in that hallway the hallway needed to be gutted and then repaired from scratch. A small fire started in Hallway 34, 9, 30, and 25; the damage in them hallways was minor. Most of the rooms had fared well; minor repairs were needed to be done in room 40, 13, 4, 17, and 20. His main worry regarded the airlock hatchway doors—they won't close; they remained half ajar all night long. All of his ship's instruments, devices, and wire hook-ups were good to go—no damages were done to them, thank the Gods!

He went down the hallway that his chamber was on then made an immediate left turn; the kitchen area of his ship was just two doors down on the hallway that he was currently on, he went to it slowly. When he entered the kitchen, he stopped short. He was obviously not the only one awake—his stepfather was working the stove; an open carton of eggs was on the counter beside him.

"Stepper," he said after walking into the room.

"Tazzy," Cheshire said. He flipped the egg that he was cooking then he placed the spatula that he was using on the counter.

"Over-easy this morning?" TazirVile said.

"Yep,"

"After yesterday morning, you decide to take it easy?"

"Funny, Tazzy." Cheshire said. He added a dash of salt and a pinch of pepper to the egg that he was cooking then he grabbed a plate from the cabinet that was to the left of the stove. "Yesterday's little talk with your father was a long time in the making."

"Take it that you and the maternal figure had an equally long talk afterwards?" TazirVile asked as he went towards the stove that had just been vacated. He cleaned the pan that his stepfather had just used then started making himself a light breakfast. "You and my mother disappeared for a while after we got back to camp."

"We had a small talk—the rest of the reason for why we disappeared is classified." Cheshire replied.

He made himself a plate of scrambled eggs then he went over to the table that was in the room. It was quiet in the room while they ate; neither of them said a thing about the morning before... they didn't really have to. The morning before was still fresh on both of their minds.

"We did nothing more than stare and gawk," he thought as he ate his eggs. "Stepper was the one who directed our attention to what was going on; the red glow that was in the limo's interior was a shock, seeing her leg come out from the back of the vehicle was a shock, seeing her being led towards the humans that were in the jets was a shock..."

His nephew's jaw had come close to disconnecting from his face after she was seen; his grandfather had made some gurgling noises while watching her walk from the limo; Stepper and his mother had stood with their eyes nearly popping out of their faces; Eshal did the silent pointing thing... even Homsi and Losal reacted to her sudden and unexpected appearance! Homsi was especially shook up—with the attack on their camp, and then with Angel making a surprise appearance... he went off to his assigned chamber for a drink and some alone time. It took Homsi all of an hour to get himself back together; all the while Homsi was drinking, and taking time out to get his scruples together, he was trying to process what his nephew said during their verbal altercation.

 _"I'll be sure to be on the look-out for all five of them munchkins of my wife's."_

Was it coincidence that the man mentioned something about Angel having a fifth child—another son—or had the man been hinting at Eshal as being apart of his plan in ousting most of Angel's offspring? He had a distinct feeling that it wasn't a coincidence—he had two newspaper articles in his ship that did mention something about Angel having an extra child in her brood; not only had he discovered the existence of the two articles when he searched his nephew's memories for the whereabouts of his wife but his stepfather had come by them. The two newspaper articles were in a box in a room in the White House; the idea of his wife being kept in a bunker, with just one of her five-reported offspring, put extra worry to his conscience.

All the while he was trying to process what his nephew said during their verbal altercation, he was keeping tabs on Eldass, Ulok, Olok, and Kalach.

"And it sure took a lot of self-kicking in the ass to do that!" he nearly said aloud.

"What's on the agenda for today?" his stepfather asked. His over-easy egg was only half-eaten.

"Besides doing damage assessments—calculating the cost of what needs to be repaired in the ship—I'm sending several of my staff to the hospital that my wife was seen in." he replied automatically. "I want that hospital checked over thoroughly."

"Sounds like a good idea but I'd also look into where them human refugees went." his stepfather said. "Maybe one of them knows where she and the boys are—look for that Ajeet-person too. Yesterday wasn't the first time he's been seen with one of your family. He was with Hazaar on the twenty-third of December—I recognized him from the photographs you handed out; he's the same one that shot me in the ribs."

"That orange-brown haired man was also seen with Hazaar on the twenty-third of December," TazirVile said. "He's the one that pushed me out of the helicopter."

"Was a name placed to him yesterday?"

"No—while that Ajeet-fellow's name was said three times that orange-brown haired man's name wasn't fully said." TazirVile replied.

"Bet you'll find some answers if you find the whereabouts of that Ajeet-person," Cheshire said. He went back to his eggs.

From the Rastatt _Badisches Tagblatt_ , January 29, 4101 (Page 1)  
Trolls Reportedly Seen Wandering Renown Rastatt Hospital

"It's no fault of anyone who resides in the city of Rastatt, or in any of the communities that surround the city, about what happened yesterday at the Maquet Deutschland GmbH." Rolf Dehmelt, the chief of Rastatt's polizei force, said after the normally quiet, peaceful nature of the city of Rastatt was shattered after the entire station's polizei force surrounded the famed hospital that opened its doors on December 12, 2008.

Despite the constant reports that everything checked out okay at the Maquet Deutschland GmbH residents still wander the streets or move about their homes uneasily; the reason for the unease is clearly on the few, sketchy details that concern what happened yesterday at the renown hospital that's located in the far south-western corner of the city of Rastatt. The few leaked security details and the showing of two cellular phone videos two hours after the entire Rastatt polizei station and the military left the hospital gave some clues as to what happened; for some residents, the leaked security details and cellular phone footage only made the mystery of what happened at the hospital grow deeper.

It's no secret that, at exactly 7:06 a.m., a large group of Trolls were seen walking about the exterior grounds of the Maquet Deutschland GmbH. Twelve persons saw the Trolls—two of whom were law enforcement. The reports claim that the Trolls wandered the exterior grounds of the hospital for all of ten minutes before splitting; half of the group went into the hospital while the remaining Trolls went around to the building's back. Not much of what happened next is known; a janitor at the hospital claims that the first floor was sparsely searched by the group of Trolls that went into the building, the second and third floors were reportedly given a full search by the creatures.

It was during the full search of the hospital's second and third floors that the calls were made to the station. Law enforcement arrived to the building five minutes later; the military arrived ten minutes after law enforcement started a search of the building.

"We were told to vacate the premises at once after the military arrived," a nurse who works at the hospital told a reporter shortly after the polizei and military arrived at the hospital. "Most of us got out of the building quickly; the ones who didn't were busy with patients. The military allowed for them to remain in the building. Even though I didn't see anything I did as they told me to do in getting out of the building."

"I saw two of the creatures just minutes before the polizei showed up—they were searching the records room and some of the medical rooms. They moved around stealthily and quietly; if I didn't turn when I did, I would of missed seeing them." another nurse said.

The Trolls seemed to of been long gone by the time the military arrived. The hospital was shut down after the polizei showed up; no one was allowed in the building and all in-coming patients were routed to a different hospital nearby. The patients already in the building were removed safely and calmly to Kreiskrankenhaus, the hospital that's located near the heart of the city. The Maquet Deutschland GmbH remained closed for all of twenty-four hours before being re-opened; no further Troll activity has been noted since the calls were placed.

From the Berlin _Berliner Zeitung_ , February 1, 4101 (Page 2)  
Residence in Tiergarten, Berlin Reportedly Searched by Military

A residence located in the Tiergarten locality of Berlin was reportedly roped off and then searched by the military yesterday after four calls were place to the station that's located in the middle of the city. Details on the reason why the residence was searched aren't known; both neighbors and the local polizei aren't speaking on what happened for the residence to be searched. The owners of the residence haven't been seen as residing in the residence since the search; their whereabouts are currently unknown.

"Mooooooom!"

It suddenly came to him! The phone call. The frantic male voice that was on the other end of the phone. The demand that he hand the phone to his mother after he picked the phone up on the first ring... The two missing pages from the January twenty-ninth and February first newspapers, that he found and then snuck from his mother's bedroom, dropped to the floor. His legs felt like rubber as he ran across his room; his hands shook as he grasped the door knob that was on his bedroom door. They continued to shake while he ran down the hall and then down the stairs.

He had to stop her from going out. He had to grab her attention before she left the house to go to work. Up to that moment, he didn't know the extent of the situation that happened in Rastatt and Berlin; the news had just run small reports on what happened in the Maquet Deutschland GmbH and the Tiergarten locality. He felt all sick in the stomach after them small reports were aired and, until now, he didn't know the reason for why.

His mother was in the Maquet Deutschland GmbH on the morning of the twenty-seventh of January; she went to the hospital after helping the American government get into the shield. She hadn't said much on what happened that morning. Just that the mission went well and that the Americans were settling in well; the check-ups that the Americans were given at the hospital went well, the trip from Rastatt to Karlsruhe was a long and boring one, and that some of the Americans had mentioned the need of a counselor after reaching the apartment complex's that the German government had made available for them to use.

They—his brothers and he—were surprised to find their mother in the kitchen on the morning of the twenty-seventh of January; in a bunch of ways, they should of known that something was wrong. The North American government had over a thousand persons in it alone; with the families of all them people coming over to Germany too, it should of taken some time—like three hours, maybe four—for all of them people to be checked over at the hospital. Their mother would of been out of the house for most of the morning and, maybe, most of the afternoon; instead, she was in the kitchen making breakfast.

The missing pages from the January twenty-ninth and February first newspapers should of alerted them to something going on too. He actually asked about them two pages; their mother came back saying that them two particular-day newspapers hadn't come with them pages included. He should of known that she was trying to cover something up!

"Mom!" he yelled after reaching the first floor of the house. "Mom! Mom!"

"Fire! Fire!" his little brother yelled from the living room. "Where is it? Where? Where?"

"Where's mom? Did she—"

"Lhaklar? Lazeer?" he heaved a sigh of relief; her voice was still in the house—that meant that she had yet to leave to go to work.

He went down the short hallway that came off the stairs then rounded the corner; he found that he came downstairs at just the right time. Their mother was by the front door; she was ready for work and, in-fact, she had one foot in the door and the other out. His mother stared at him for a second before sighing; she re-entered the house then closed the door.

"Lhakie, what have I told you about yelling and running in the house?" his mother asked him. "Only if it's imp—"

"It is important!" Lhaklar said sharply. "How can you go to work—leave us—after what happened in Rastatt four days ago?"

"Pardon?" his mother looked confused.

"The paper! You said that this morning's and the January twenty-ninth newspaper had no first or second page to them when they did!" Lhaklar said, again sharply.

"Lhaklar?"

"I found them in your room—in your top dresser drawer! How could you lie about—"

"A certain young man's about to get a whopper of a dish-toweling for playing search in my room if he don't quiet up and calm down." his mother said, calmly yet sternly. "I had my reason for not telling you boys what happened—nothing of what happened on the twenty-seventh is of any concern to you five."

"Aj... Mr. Ballal called yesterday. He was a mess! Did they—"

"Follow me, Lhaklar." his mother said. She opened the door then went out. He stood in place for a short while before following her; he closed the door behind him after leaving the house.

It was cold out! He wished he had grabbed a coat from his bedroom closet before going downstairs to see if his mother was still in the house or not. The sky was a bright blue color while the grass was just as dead as could be—with the frost that they had experienced the last few days, this was normal; near zero-degree temperatures were experienced during the nighttime hours on the twenty-ninth, thirtieth, and thirty-first of January, the daytime temperatures on them three days were around thirty-three to thirty-six degrees. In sharp contrast, it was near Spring-like on the twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth. It looked like another day was to be added to the cold spell.

He followed his mother to her Porsche then, after a moments hesitation, got into the front passenger seat. His mother slid into the driver's seat; she closed the driver's side door then placed her purse down on the seat between them. She turned to look at him afterwards; he knew at once that he was in for a lecture—her eyes were like stone and there was clear anger in them. He felt a shiver roll down his spine after taking one look at them.

"Let's get a few things straight here, Young Man." she said to him. "I don't have to tell you or your brothers every little detail of what happens during my out-of-the-house hours—you and your brothers are required to tell me what happened if any of you return home looking roughed up or upset, I'm not required to tell you boys anything. Got me?"

"Yes," he mumbled. He looked at his lap.

"We give respect in our house, Lhakie." his mother said. "What you did in searching my room wasn't very respectful—I took them two pages for a reason; I didn't want you or your brothers to get upset over what happened on the twenty-seventh, twenty-eighth, or yesterday."

"Guess I caused exactly that, I'm sorry." he said back.

"You nearly did—if I hadn't of asked you to quiet up, everyone on the block would of known what you just found out."

"I'm sorry," he apologized again. "Can you tell me why Mr. Ballal was such a mess yesterday?"

After his going into her room, rummaging through her top dresser drawer and then taking the two newspaper pages that she had purposely removed from the January twenty-ninth and that morning's newspaper, she was tempted to not tell him. After giving it a thinking over she decided to go on and tell him—just to put his mind at ease.

"A bunch of your father's Goblins entered Mr. Ballal's house yesterday." she started. "Mr. Ballal was at work at the time while his wife, Gretel, was at home. She was downstairs, doing laundry—the house alarm system never turned on to alert her to their presence; while Gretel did the laundry, the Goblins searched some of the house. The Goblins were only discovered after Mrs. Ballal came upstairs. She screamed when she saw them then—from what Ajeet told me—she grabbed and then took after them with a broom."

"A broom!" Lhaklar clamped his mouth shut; she could tell that he was trying to not smile over Mr. Ballal's wife taking a broom to her and her husband's house intruders.

"Yes, the poor woman ran the Goblins out of her house with a broom. Two of the Goblins reportedly tried to grab her during the "brooming"—Mrs. Ballal wasn't hurt, just scared out of her wits end." Angel went on. "After the Goblins left the residence, Mrs. Ballal called the police and then her husband—Mr. and Mrs. Ballal moved in with one of their grown children afterwards. Mrs. Ballal refuses to speak on what happened and she's terrified of stepping foot in her and her husband's house."

"Dude! Did the military find anything after they got to their place?" Lhaklar asked.

"Nothing out of place, or missing, if that's what you mean. They found some unidentifiable fingerprints at the residence but, for the most part, everything was intact." she replied.

"How many Goblins entered the residence?" Lhaklar asked.

"Five—from what Mr. Ballal was able to get from his wife, they were all wearing tuxedos." she replied.

A neighbor to the Ballal's had taken Mrs. Ballal in not long after the Goblins were run off. The police showed up five minutes later; Mr. Ballal had rushed home as fast as he could. A team of nearly twenty men and women, all from the military, were on his heels. The police had only been allowed to rope the residence off and do a preliminary question-session with Mrs. Ballal; the military took the task of searching the residence over soon after their arrival.

Mr. Ballal did a personal search of his and his wife's residence sometime after the military left; his search had found nothing more than what had already been found. She wasn't a bit surprised to hear that he had grown enraged over the situation—in her mind, he had all right in being enraged; not only had his home been entered illegally but his wife was threatened physically by the very ones that entered their abode! Ajeet had admitted to picking up and then throwing certain things in one of the bedrooms around; it took him all of ten minutes to calm down. He left the residence soon after calming down. A series of phone calls were made afterwards.

Stefan was called; he was so alarmed over what happened that he called his wife to see how she was. Ajeet had placed calls to family that lived close to him to see if they had encountered any Goblins—or Trolls, as he called them—then he called her. Lhaklar was the one to pick the phone up yesterday; Ajeet hadn't meant to yell at him, his anxiety over the situation had made it nearly impossible for him to control the volume of his voice. Ajeet had said something about getting shit-faced drunk yesterday; his anxiety was that damn bad. She did the only thing that she could of done at the time for him—be an ear and a shoulder.

"What good's a house security system that doesn't alert people when a residence is entered illegally?" Ajeet said yesterday. "I spent nearly two hundred and fifty euros on the system three years ago—it should of alerted my wife to their being in the house!"

"Was the system on? Were any of the doors or windows open or unlocked at the time that they came in?" she asked.

"Yes! The system was on; it was working properly—or so they say—and all of the doors and windows were shut and locked." Ajeet replied. "I checked the fuckin' system myself—it was armed and ready; the bastard should of gone off after they came in!"

She felt for the man; neither he nor his family had needed or deserved for that to happen to them.

Ajeet had actually become a patient at the Maquet Deutschland GmbH; from what she was told, he fainted sometime after he and Stefan returned to the hospital. He found himself on a hospital bed some hours later with a "banger" of a headache, a wrap of bandaging around his head, and an eye-patch taped over his right eye. The fight with Kalach had taken its toll on him; he sustained some nasty lacerations to the back of his head and neck and to the back of his shoulders, his nose was also broken, and he also sustained a mild Hyphema—a condition where blood collects on the anterior or front of the eye, between the cornea and the iris.

Normally, people who had Hyphema's were put on bed rest and were told to take it easy. Ajeet didn't do that; he went home, took the medicine prescribed to him for his Hyphema, went to bed, then resumed his normal routine afterwards. The vision in his right eye was returning. Slowly but surely.

If Ajeet wasn't so anxious or angry over what happened to his wife she would of told him the specifics on the Goblin—or "Troll"—species; the very thought of his growing even more angry and, possibly, causing more harm to his eye was enough of a reason for her to keep her mouth shut. She also kept herself from apologizing for saying his name during his time in fighting Kalach off—it was an automatic thing for anyone to say their partner's name during an extreme moment; her action in saying his name was an innocent one, but she still felt a bit guilty. If she hadn't of said his name, he and his wife would still be residing in their home. The Goblins wouldn't of paid his residence a visit yesterday if she hadn't of said his name.

Stefan had tried to call her yesterday; she was on the phone with Ajeet at the time, so she hadn't been able to answer his call. Either he got too busy to call her again or he figured that she was on the phone with Ajeet. He left no message on the answering machine and no other calls from him had come through. The attempt that she made in trying to call him back didn't go through; his voice mail had come on after she tried to call him back.

"Anything in the house you want me to do? Seeing as I "played search" in your room, I figure that I should get some sort of punishment." Lhaklar said.

"Only thing that needs to be done in the house is the floors," Angel said as she dug in her purse for her car keys. "Think a warning is enough for you—the next time you blindly admit to searching my room, you _will_ get some chores to do."

"I can do the floors," Lhaklar said.

"Leave the vacuuming and the carpet cleaning to me, Lhakie. That's a chore that I and only I do in the house." Angel said. She took her car keys out from her purse then stuck them in the ignition. "Now, unless you want to go bagging groceries, or filling deli orders, at my place of work you best get out. Last I heard, you had plans in going to Ettlingen with Lazeer today—you two have fun in seeing the movie that you're both crazy about, do your best to stay out of trouble."

The movie! With his being so caught-up in what the two missing pages from the January twenty-ninth and February first newspapers had said he had forgotten all about the movie that he and Lazeer were going to see that morning—and, maybe, again that afternoon.

While the title of the movie was corny the trailer was outstandingly awesome! From what he and his brother were able to gather on the movie, the plot of the movie, Attack of the Tumbleweeds, seemed to revolve around a bunch of alien or scientifically created tumbleweeds that reek havoc on the citizens of a small, mid-western, American town. Lazeer came close to shitting his pants when the trailer showed a tumbleweed jumping onto a human and then tearing said human's face off—the tumbleweed had some gnarly teeth on it; the human in the trailer hadn't stood a chance after being jumped on! His interest in the film was piqued after the trailer showed a group of tumbleweeds chasing after and then jumping on a nearly naked woman—the trailer had actually shown the outcome of the chase! A bunch of gnawed on bones, with bits of flesh still attached, were left behind by the tumbleweed-creatures. The tumbleweeds had eaten everything but the bones!

As far as he knew, he and Lazeer were the only ones that were going to see the movie. Bile had surprised them by saying that the movie looked to have "crappy visual effects and actors in it". He had "business" to take care of in Amsterdam that morning; he was probably going to spend the rest of the day with his friends after that "business" was taken care of. Hazaar had also surprised them by saying that the movie looked "fake" and "poorly put together"; he had plans to do a few things in town that morning before going out to do a little, behind-their-mother's-back, hunting. Guyunis seemed to have a little interest in the movie but, surprisingly, he wasn't going with them to see it. He had plans in trying to play hook-up with one of the local-town ladies that morning. The plan was for him and Lazeer to go to the old Kulisse Kino cinema that was in the town of Ettlingen; they'd watch the movie then they'd split for a few hours before meeting back up at the cinema for, hopefully, another viewing of the movie.

They had both agreed that it was too early for popcorn, soda, and snacks; for their first viewing, they were just going to get the tickets and then find a seat. If they saw the movie again that afternoon, they would purchase popcorn, soda, and snacks.

"We'll do a restock on cigarettes, model paints and glue, and magazines between movie viewings." he thought as he went back to the house.

The usual talks happened earlier that morning during breakfast; except for Guyunis and Hazaar, who spoke in carefully worded code, they relayed their plans for the day normally. Their mother had surprised them by saying that no one would be cooking that night; she had plans to pick something up for them for supper from her workplace. She hadn't specified on what it was she was planning on picking up. Bile and Hazaar had called dibs on the secret supper being a large deli pizza while he, Guyunis, and Lazeer had said that it'd be chicken—he called dibs on the chicken being BBQ while Guyunis and Lazeer called dibs on the chicken being plain original recipe. Their mother had just let them war on the unknown, secret supper; she hadn't dropped any clues. A broad smile was on her face all the while they spoke on what it was she had plans on bringing home.

The movie, his and his brothers' discussed plans for the day, and the unknown, secret supper that his mother was planning on bringing home that night buzzed around in his head like mosquitoes as he went into the house. The blast of warm air that met against his face made the rest of his morning fatigue evaporate; he became energized by that warm blast of air—so much so that he nearly jogged into the living room, where two of his four brothers were. Lazeer was on the sectional couch; he seemed to only be watching the tv to pass the time away. Bile was on the phone.

"You're going to need something heavier than that," he said when he saw that Lazeer was wearing the green and black, "blood" splattered" hoodie that Guyunis had given him for Christmas. "It's cold outside."

"I won't be out in the cold for long." Lazeer said.

"It might be cold in the theater." he said.

"I can warm myself up by using my powers." Lazeer said.

"You've got plans to go out after seeing the movie—do you want to get the flu again?" he asked.

"We going to see the movie or are we just going to talk one another to death?"

He noticed the signs right away after that one asked question. Lazeer went to bed peppy. He woke up peppy. He acted peppy all throughout breakfast. The mood switches that were in his youngest brother's brain were flipped sometime between the conclusion of breakfast and his following their mother out to her car; that damn Temperamental phase had claimed his brother at the damnedest of times! He wondered where the little brother, who had spoken so energetically about the babies that his female Salamandra salamandra bernardezi had a few weeks ago just fifteen minutes ago, went to and he wondered if he shouldn't just leave his brother at home. He and Lazeer were going to a public place—a flared temper moment in public wouldn't go well with their mother nor would it go well with his brother's reputation.

He stared at his brother for a few minutes before deciding to just take him with him to the movies; who knew, the cold might make Lazeer feel better and it might also make his face, which was still very badly scabbed over, bruised, and swollen, feel better too. He was amazed over how little the injury to the left side of his brother's face had healed over the last four months; the injury was four months old, yet it looked just the same as it had after it scabbed over a week after their father arrived to the planet.

He unconsciously reached his hand up to the right side of his head. Like Lazeer's October-made injury, his October-made injury had yet to heal, which was rather ironic, since it was healing before his little date with Master Vile. The gash, which was still six inches long, was still rather sore; he hissed when his hand touched the nasty scab that was over it.

"Well, guess if we're to go to the movies, I best go upstairs to get a coat." he said. He started to leave the room. He stopped after he thought about his brother's wallet. Lazeer had come to be very embarrassed after receiving his Glass Frogs—he went out to do a little shopping for them only to find himself lacking his wallet. Instead of getting the essential items for them—a cage, furnishings, substrate, etc.—, he came home both angry and empty-handed. He didn't want his brother to go through that again so he turned around. "Make sure you have your wallet on you—I may be buying your ticket but I won't be buying anything else for you."

He went to his room quickly; the normal, brown leather jacket that had tassels on the shoulders was the first jacket that he saw in his closet. He grabbed it, then threw it on, then left his room—he didn't stop to look at the completed 1902 Rambler or the 1955 Chrysler ST Special Coupe that were on the set of shelves that he had recently purchased for his room. The shelves were between his corner desk and bookcase; the 2012 Bufori MKIII La Joya, the Rambler, and the Chrysler were the only models on the set of shelves. One of the models that Mr. Leinart gave him ten days ago, the 1952 Hudson Hornet, would be the next model to join them on the shelves. It was on his corner desk; the paint just needed to dry before he could add it to one of the three shelves.

"You've got three hours before the next showing of Attack of the Tumbleweeds. You can always come home after the first viewing, get started on the other model that Mr. Leinart gave you ten days ago—the 1970 Dodge Charger R/T—before heading out to get cigarettes, paint, glue, and magazines." he thought as he went down the stairs.

It was the sudden, non-sleepy thought of cigarettes that made him stop in his tracks. He went back to his room for one more item—the cigarette case that had an Irish Setter engraved on one of its sides. While he missed his old cigarette case, he was glad to have the new one; Bile had really gone out of his way for him. The new case, which he took out from the dresser drawer that his underwear was in, was as shiny as a new copper penny, which he thought was unique. The new case had a black velvet lining on the inside; the four cigarettes, that were in the case, were neatly nestled under a bronze-plated spring.

He slid the case into the sewn-in pocket that was on the inside of his solid blue, long sleeve, button down shirt then left his room for the second time. That was the last time that he went into his room that morning; he went down the stairs then grabbed his brother. They left the house on foot at first, then they stopped to teleport to their destination.

"Brrrr!" Lazeer wrapped his arms around himself. "It's freezing here!"

"What'd I tell ya earlier?" Lhaklar said back. "Should of worn a heavier coat—it's cold out."

"This place looks old—you sure there's a movie theater here?" Lazeer asked. He took a breath in then held it. The exposed parts of his periwinkle-blue colored body turned a light red color as he warmed himself up.

It looked old for a reason. The Kulisse Kino movie theater was located in the Rheinland Kaserne, a place in Ettlingen that had once been an army barracks. From what he had read, the Rheinland Kaserne was a German Army Base for many years until after World War II. The American military took the place over after the second War World; the Rheinland Kaserne was home to many U.S. Army units and American families until the mid-1990's. The place didn't look like a barracks anymore; among the housing's, it had a private school, many medical offices, a vehicle registration centre, two grocery stores, one or two small eateries, and, of course, the movie theater in it.

The Kulisse Kino movie theater was right in front of them. It was a massive, two story structure made of ancient-looking bricks. There were six posters on the side of the building that faced the street; the one that was right smack in the middle of the three that were on the right side of the front of the building showed the film that they wanted to see. Even the poster looked awesome! A tumbleweed, shown with a vertical maw of gruesomely sharp teeth, was attacking a male human in the center of the poster; a blonde-haired woman, depicted with her hands pressed against the sides of her head, was howling in fear in one corner of the poster; a group of children were running from an unknown threat on the bottom of the poster while, just above that, was the movie's title and some of the names of the actors and actresses that were involved in the picture. The poster was mostly black, white, and gray in color; the movie title and actor credits were done in red.

Just seeing the poster made him want to see the movie more; he grabbed his brother by the arm then tugged him along behind him. Lazeer didn't put up a squawk about being pulled along—he saw the poster too. The poster had made his sour attitude disappear. He and his brother had just reached one of the building's front, revolving doors when two Goblins noticed them; the two Goblins stared in shock as they went into the building then, after they went into the building, they stepped back into the shadows of the warehouse that was across the street from the theater.

"Master Tazir said something a little over a month ago about how he caused one of his sons' arms to break." Abevo Speelin, a light brown-skinned Goblin, who had slicked back brown hair and green eyes, said. "It was when he was in Berlin—on the twenty-third of December. He never specified which one of his sons he broke the arm of."

"He said something about an Eagle attacking him on that day—Young Master Lhaklar inherited his mother's talent in Transformation; we should of known that he was talking about him." Losal said.

"Looks like the break to Young Master Lhaklar's arm was worse that what he thought it was." Abevo said.

They said nothing for a while after seeing their employer's two sons. They just stood in the shadow that was provided by the overhanging roof of the warehouse; while a brisk wind caused the tail of their coats to flutter, they thought their separate, different, thoughts.

Abevo Speelin thought about his involvement in the search that he was given the order to be apart of yesterday. An address was found for the Ajeet-person in the hospital that his older brother, Kalach, had searched with ten other Goblins on the twenty-eighth of January; Mr. Ajeet Mahatma Ballal had, apparently, been checked-in at the hospital for a concussion, some glass-made lacerations, and a Hyphema. The hospital took all of his information down then it filed it. Ironically, his brother, the very one who gave the man all of them injuries, was the one to find that file. While Kalach wasn't involved in the search of Mr. Ajeet Mahatma Ballal's residence he was; he was rather embarrassed over what happened in the search. Neither he nor anyone else in his group had expected to meet up with a woman at the residence.

Master Tazir had speculated that the Ajeet Mahatma Ballal-person had information on his wife; he and his four co-workers had gone to the address that was on the hospital card with intent on finding out what Mr. Ballal knew on their Mistress. He and his four companions—Losal Khrelan being one of them—had done a general search of the residence's first floor; they were on their way to the residence's second floor when the woman noticed them. His ears were still ringing—the woman's scream was loud!

"Eindringling! Raus aus meinem Haus!" the woman, who looked much too young for a non-immortal man who was nearing sixty years of age, screamed.

The basket of clothing, that was in the woman's hands, dropped to the floor; a broom was grabbed and then taken to him and his four co-workers afterwards. The woman knew how to use a broom well—she meant business when she swung that broom at them. Losal and Molxax Framavaz, the latter a newbie in his employer's service, were the only ones brave enough to try to subdue to woman; their bravery had won them a good broom-smacking across the face and buttocks. They got out of the residence as fast as they could after that broom was retrieved. Nothing was really found on their Mistress at the residence; he and his four co-workers had a good laugh on what happened at the residence after returning to camp.

As Abevo thought of the search that he was apart of the day before, Losal thought of the return of his employer's grandfather's uncle; the man hadn't wasted a second in resuming his abuse of every staff member that either worked for him or for one of the other Surfeit's that resided in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve.

The effects of radiation poisoning had a hay day with Trobrencus; the man came close to dying twice after being admitted to Zhiwanook Hospital—some of his major internal organs started bleeding-out about an hour or so after he was brought in. The doctors and nurses at the hospital had a major fight on their hands to stop the bleeding; from what he had heard, the bleeding had only stopped after a surgery was done. Trobrencus had lost nearly forty percent of his blood in just an hour's time; it took nearly eight pints of blood for his blood levels to return to normal.

While having some of his major organs bleed-out on him was bad that wasn't the only bad experience that he went through at the hospital. Trobrencus wasn't able to keep anything down for a week after his blood levels returned to normal; any attempt by the man to keep food or drink down had ended in failure. All sorts of intravenous drips were hooked up to him; the quick actions by the doctors and nurses at the hospital, and them IV's, were most of the reason for why he was still around.

That was really it on the serious side of the man's poisoning; most of the man's other experienced symptoms were minor. He went through a six-day spell of hot and cold spells after his inability to keep food and drink down subsided, then he suffered a two-day spell of not being able to control his bowel movements, then he went through a four-day spell of fevers and headaches. The man had apparently gone deaf and partially paralyzed on his right side after being admitted to Zhiwanook Hospital; the fevers and headaches that he experienced after the hot/cold spells had, in a way, made them two ailments disappear. The man's vision had also been effected by the poisoning; it was blurry for all of two and a half weeks before clearing up.

Trobrencus was back in camp; had been for all of twenty-four hours now. Despite all of what he went through, and despite the fact that he was thirty pounds lighter, he still acted much the same. The time that he wasn't in camp, from the eighth of January to the thirty-first of January, was a nice, peaceful time for him and everyone else that worked for a Surfeit.

"None of the Young Masters were around when that dark-guy fought Trobrencus," Losal said under his breath. "Trivit spent three days in the hospital before returning to camp while Triskull spent just one day in the hospital—Kuruk's had a time with Triskull ever since!"

"Losal, you say something?" Abevo asked. Losal shook his head.

They stood under the shadow that the overhanging roof of the warehouse was giving off for a while longer before deciding to move about a little. Abevo walked out into the non-shadowed parking lot that was beside their side of the building while Losal went around to the building's front; the sun made both men feel a little warmer but, with their having seen their employer's two sons only ten or so minutes before, it didn't make them feel any cheerier. Both men knew that they had an important task to do; they didn't know how much longer their employer's two, just-sighted sons would remain in the building across the street and they didn't know how much fight the two boys would give if they just ran up to retrieve them. In order to retrieve their employer's oldest and youngest biological sons safely and harmlessly they'd need help; neither of them had sleeper darts on their persons and neither wanted a physical brawl to happen between them or the two youngsters. Young Master Lhaklar had, what looked to be, a still broken arm and they didn't know what Young Master Lazeer's condition was.

The two men stretched their legs for ten minutes before stopping; Abevo nodded his head when he saw Losal going for his communicator. He stepped back into the shadows as his co-worker relayed their situation then he sighed after hearing that their employer wasn't available to be reached. Their employer was out on a hunt with his stepfather; he wasn't in the best of moods. It was advised to leave him be. Losal had just asked what they should do in regards to the situation when his communicator died; Abevo watched as his co-worker slapped the device against his thigh, then he watched as his co-worker stuffed his communicator into the left-side pocket of his dark green, waterproof, canvas jacket. Losal walked over to his side afterwards; he had a very defeated look on his face.

"What now?" Abevo asked.

"Good question—forgot to charge my communicator last night so, unless I can borrow yours, we're stuck." Losal replied. Abevo fished his communicator out from the pocket of his brown suede jacket quickly then gave it to his co-worker. Losal had just pressed the TALK button on the device when they heard footsteps approaching them. They looked up and then to the left at once; lopsided smiles appeared on both of their faces when they saw the six men that were walking towards them.

"Losal, Abevo." Homsi Modulavich said. "Heard that you two had an issue that you needed help with—we're here to assist you."


	43. Chapter 43

Except for the extreme outer edges, the screen went a dark brown, nearly black, color. Something that looked similar to bristly or kinky pubic hair dotted the four corners of the screen for only a second before daylight was seen again. He and the rest of the audience gasped after the pursuing mass of monstrous Tumbleweeds made the ground shake after it bounced and then landed on the ground. The people that were running in front of the mass were terrified; some of the people were constantly looking over their shoulders while others were just running without looking back. The monstrous ball of Tumbleweeds, a creation of science, that escaped from its confines some miles north of the town of Blixton, pursued the people by rolling along for another twenty or so feet before bouncing from the ground again. A terrific boom was heard from the room's speakers after the mass landed. Rocks and dust flew into the air after the monstrous mass landed; two of the children that were in the fleeing group fell to their knees for only a second before being yanked to their feet again.

The fleeing, terrified people ran down a well-maintained trail that was guarded on both sides by tall juniper trees. The monstrous mass that was pursuing them made the juniper trees disappear after it collided with them; a well-worn trail was left in the monstrous ball's wake. Except for a few leaves, there looked to be nothing more than desert in the area that the fleeing people were at.

"Run! Don't look back! Just run! Run! Ruuuuu..."

A terrific gasp echoed throughout the room that they were in after the only adult in the group tripped and then fell to the ground. A shower of popcorn fell from the balcony above. His brother shielded the injured half of his face from the falling popcorn for a second before leaping back after the monstrous ball of Tumbleweeds rolled over the janitor that was trying to keep the only survivors of Little Eagle Elementary running from the threat that took their school, their teachers, and most of their classmates.

The scene that followed was a near duplicate of the one that they saw five minutes ago. The ball of Tumbleweeds stopped; their well-maintained and organized ball disintegrated quickly. The janitor screamed as the thousand Tumbleweeds started in on him. A leg was gnawed off from the body right at the thigh. An arm was devoured almost instantly. The Tumbleweeds practically split the janitor in two after them two limbs were gone; the janitor's blood-curdling screams were heard for five more seconds. The Tumbleweeds wrestled and fought over his body, which was now in numerous pieces, for another minute before quieting down. Ten seconds of nothing followed; the creatures sat in place, doing nothing more than purring before rolling into not one, not two, but three balls.

The creepy rumble that the developers of the movie decided to use when the Tumbleweed-creatures rolled forward as either a single, large unit or as multiple units was heard from the room's speakers; although he knew it was a trick of suspense he literally thought that the chair that he was sitting in was vibrating. He looked down at the arms of the chair for a second before gazing back at the screen that the movie was being played on. The Tumbleweed-creatures rolled forward in their near two-story high massive balls. Two of the remaining fifteen children looked back after they heard the monster balls resume their pursuit of them; the two children screamed in fright before turning back to facing forward.

He was brushing a mini-mountain of popcorn from his left shoulder when one of the three pursuing balls of Tumbleweeds suddenly stopped; the children ran on for a cave that, to both him, his brother, and to everyone else in the room, seemed safe. The children entered the cave; they ran to the far back then dropped to their knees as the stationary ball of Tumbleweeds started to slowly shrink in size. The sound of coughing was heard from the room's speakers, gagging sounds followed until, finally, several of the Tumbleweed-like creatures started "birthing" something from their mouths.

"Uh!" he groaned. "Disgusting!"

He came close to puking! Little hints were thrown all throughout the movie on how the creatures reproduced; until now, he and the rest of the audience were left to their own devices on figuring out how the creatures had babies. Both he and his brother were grossed out by the scene; judging by the sounds of the humans that were in the room with them, it seemed that everyone was disgusted by what was going on.

A shower of blood and bits and pieces of undigested flesh came out from the "birthing" creatures' mouths; it splashed the ground, making a small circle appear. When the circle was complete, a tiny creature that looked nothing like the Tumbleweeds was "thrown up". The newborn Tumbleweed-creatures were an odd pink color. They lacked their "parent's" bristle, stick and root-like outer coats. Slime and ooze dripped from the tiny bodies of the newborns; a small mouth, already possessing several rows of gruesomely sharp teeth, opened and closed on the tiny newborns. A pair of barely noticeable, red eyes stared out of each of the tiny newborns' pink faces. The newborn creatures moved about clumsily in their small, weird nests; some of the babies had just started making noise—a weird sort of chirruping sound—when the other two balls of Tumbleweeds stopped. The two balls of Tumbleweeds remained stationary for a few seconds before turning towards the group of Tumbleweeds that had just "given birth". A loud gasp escaped him and the rest of the audience as the two balls rolled towards the "nesting ground" that contained the newborn creatures.

"Please don't tell me they're cannibals!" the girl that was seated to his right said.

"I wouldn't put it past them if they were," the boy that was beside the girl said. "They ate a church full of people!"

"They ate a school full of people too!" the girl said back.

The scene changed. Two of the remaining eight scientists that were involved in the project of creating the Tumbleweed-creatures drove up to the cave that the children were in. One of the two scientists went into the cave while the other remained outside; he snapped pictures of the creatures as they went towards the "nesting ground" that contained the newborn creatures. He snapped pictures as the two, two-story tall balls of creatures disintegrated, then started "birthing" their own sick broods. He had just switched his camera settings to video when a jet flew overhead. The jet fired two missiles at the creatures; the creatures that had already given birth rolled out of the "nesting grounds" after the missiles struck the outer edges of the area that the newborns were being born in.

An ominous drum roll was heard from the room's speakers as the creatures that vacated the "nesting grounds" formed into a one-story high ball. The creatures did nothing after the ball was formed; they sat in place for ten seconds before reforming into a catapult-like thing that contained a small Tumbleweed-ball on the end. He and the audience held their breath as the catapult-Tumbleweed-thing pulled back. The catapult-Tumbleweed-thing nearly collapsed after the small Tumbleweed-ball was released. When the small Tumbleweed-ball struck the jet there was a mighty explosion; the scientist that had the camera took four steps back in shock.

"Claire!" the scientist yelled. "Claire—these things aren't suppose to breed like this, and they're not suppose to form into weaponry either!"

"They're not suppose to do a lot of things, Charles!" the other scientist—Claire—yelled from within the cave.

"A queen's suppose to do all the birthing! We made only one queen and she died soon after the colonies escaped!" Charles yelled.

"Quit yelling and help me!" Claire, who was now trying to coax the children that went into the cave to the truck that she and Charles had driven to the cave's entrance.

Charles did as he was told. He grabbed four of the children from the cave then took them to the truck; Claire followed on his heels with four more. Another trip by Charles was done. He grabbed four more children then ran out; the remaining children ran out on their own accord after him. Charles practically threw the children into the back of the truck. One-by-one they went in; their small, innocent faces full of panic, yet also full of hope that they'd finally be saved from the ordeal that they were forced to endure. When the last child was in the truck, Charles threw the tailgate up; he ran to the driver's side of the vehicle then got in. It seemed just his luck that, once he was behind the wheel, the second group of creatures that "gave birth" after the first group did turned in his direction.

A roar was heard; it made everyone in the audience cringe. When he chanced a look at the girl that was to his right, he saw that her hair was standing on-end. The second group of creatures that "gave birth" pursued the truck quickly; they snarled and hissed the entire time. Charles was speeding, trying his best to keep out of the creatures' reach. He had just reached a section of the road that was halfway decent went the first group of creatures that "gave birth" showed up. The two groups of creatures formed into a near two-story high ball quickly then roared forward. The children that were in the vehicle's back screamed in fear when they saw the ball drawing closer to them; Claire urged Charles to drive faster; Charles yelled back that he was at the vehicle's top-speed. Charles had just turned a corner when a small group of newborn creatures appeared; the newborn creatures rolled clumsily forward for a second then they started bouncing. A series of spikes came out from the newborn creatures' mouths with each jump; the spikes penetrated the truck's back, sides, and tires. Claire tried her best to shield the children from the spikes.

"Charles!"

"See what I mean! We didn't engineer this! We didn't breed or make this!" Charles yelled back.

"Charles... I'm hit! I'm hit, Charles!" Claire yelled from the back of the vehicle. "My arm! I can't feel or move my arm!"

"Shit—can you use your other arm? Make a tourniquet out of something! Apply pressure, quick!" Charles looked back at Claire; when he saw that her arm was beginning to swell, he grabbed a knife out from the glove compartment of his vehicle. He threw the knife into the back of the truck quickly. "Use your other arm to make a small incision—get whatever poison that's in your arm out, quick!"

"That's how the Principal died!" someone behind him said excitedly. "His leg started to swell, then he found himself unable to move, then he couldn't breathe, then—"

A chorus of shhhh's erupted in the room; all eyes were peeled to the screen, watching as the female scientist did as she was told to do. Claire's unusually tan face had just started to go pale when she pushed the blade of the knife into her arm; a pink goo had just started flowing from her self-inflicted wound when another group of newborn Tumbleweeds appeared, this one appeared right dead smack in the middle of the road. Charles tried to drive over them—some of the newborns were crushed under his vehicle's tires while others either bounced or rolled clumsily out of the way. Charles had just gone past the second group of newborn creatures when all of the tires on his vehicle burst.

Sparks flew out from the now tire-less truck. The children and Claire screamed as Charles struggled to keep the truck from going off-road. The Tumbleweed-ball continued to dog the truck; it only stopped when the group of Tumbleweeds that "gave birth" last appeared in front of the truck. Charles was forced to stop the vehicle; he tried to veer it off to the side of the road and then drive it across the desert—thanks to the state of his vehicle, he found himself unable to do so. The vehicle, one that the military would use to transport ammunition, weapons, and food from one location to another, squealed to a stop. Dust flew; a buzzing sound was heard for only a second, then it grew very quiet. Charles stared at the front-lying Tumbleweed-ball before looking back at the other one.

"They're going to eat them! I can't watch... ooohhh, Christoff, shield me!" the girl that was seated to his right exclaimed. She hid her face in the arm of the boy that she called Christoff quickly.

"Get out of there! Go! Go! You can still drive you fool!" Christoff yelled at the screen.

Actually, Charles couldn't go anywhere. He wouldn't stand a chance in driving across the desert with four flat tires—he wouldn't have much control; the rims would just dig into the sand and dirt. Charles Dewison, his wife, Claire Dewison, and the fifteen children that were in the vehicle's back were sitting ducks. Unless someone came along to help them, or unless something happened that'd grab the Tumbleweeds' and newborns' attentions, they were as good as dead.

He and his brother had just stiffened up when a low rumbling sound came out from the room's speakers. The low rumble grew louder by the second until, finally, four jets appeared from out of nowhere on the screen. The four jets attacked the Tumbleweeds; they dropped all sorts of bombs and missiles and bullets on them for all of five seconds before stopping. When the bombing was over, the landscape was changed; there were bits and pieces of the newborns and there were small, Tumbleweed-like body-parts lying everywhere and there were several, deep, smoking craters all around the truck that housed Charles, Claire, and the fifteen surviving school children. Charles remained in the truck for all of ten seconds before getting out. He went up to the nearest Tumbleweed that was still moving—still breathing in its strange, little way. He examined the Tumbleweed-creature for a few seconds then looked up after hearing another low rumble; his eyes went wide when he saw the large aircraft that was flying towards the area that he, his wife, and the children were in.

"Shitshitshitshitshit!" Charles cursed rapidly as he leaped into the truck's driver's seat. He started the truck up then sped it back to where the cave was.

"Charles?" Claire asked.

"You grab them kids and get ready to run for the way back of the cave!"

"Charles!"

"Don't ask questions! Do as I tell you!"

The two scientists reached the cave right when a Boeing B-29 Superfortress bomber came into view. The two scientists worked feverishly to move the children out from the truck and then to the far back of the cave; Charles looked back only once to see the Tumbleweed-like creatures stirring from where they had landed then he leaped as far back into the cave as he could. A mighty explosion happened not one second later—a plume of orange and red rose into the sky; bits and pieces of Tumbleweed creatures rose and then fell to the Earth; rocks and sand blew into the mouth of the cave; the children screamed in panic before going silent.

The screen went dark for all of five seconds before the scene changed—what was shown next was drastically different from what was previously shown. Charles and Claire were both in a town somewhere, enjoying what-looked-to-be a half-decent lunch; the children were nowhere in sight.

"We're not at full-fault for what happened, Claire." Charles said. "Quit beating yourself up over it."

"I'm serious, Charles. I'm done with being a scientist—the creation of the 'weeds was interesting, and the research and general study was fun, but it got too dangerous and fast and it also cost a lot of people their lives." Claire said back.

"None of us knew what we were working on or with—the military just asked us to make a weapon that they could use that'd end the use of reconnaissance soldiers; the military is also to blame for what happened in Blixton." Charles said.

"Don't give me that—Deuce knew exactly what we were working with. He was the Head of our research; he probably knew all along what they were capable of doing." Claire said back.

"If he knew their capabilities he would of bagged the entire project." Charles said back.

"No he wouldn't—Deuce was all about money, and fame. He would of kept us going—we'd still be making them damn 'weeds if he was still alive." Claire said back.

The couple said nothing for a few seconds. Bells were heard from a passing street vendor's horse-drawn carriage; two bicyclists rode past; a group of what-looked-to-be tourists walked by. Claire looked at her barely touched lunch for a few seconds before pushing it forward, Charles picked at his pasta for a few seconds more before leaning back in his chair. The two people looked at each other for a little while before turning to gaze at a bus that had just started honking its horn.

"Nearly a whole town destroyed—them Tumbleweeds killed nearly everyone in sight, six of our colleagues included." Claire shook her head. "Wish I'd of never said yes to that project. I feel so guilty—all of them kids that survived lost their parents and siblings thanks to us..."

"They were looking for the best geneticists for the job, Claire. You and I were among the ones picked—we were only doing what we were told to do." Charles said.

"I still feel guilty." Claire said.

"It'll pass. We have time and plenty of it to get over what happened." Charles said.

Except for the scene that showed a newborn Tumbleweed-creature hiding under a regular tumbleweed, the movie ended on, what he called, a poor note. The ending didn't seem to make any sense at all. A couple talking at an restaurant, saying how guilty they felt, followed by a scene of a surviving creature hiding under something that it'd resemble sometime later in the future? He was shaking his head when the lights came on overhead; the movie had a good, campy, crappy feel to it. There were some good moments in the film and there were also some crappy and downright horrible moments too; while he thought that the five euros that he spent on his and his brother's tickets were well-spent he really had no intention in doing a follow-up viewing. One viewing was enough; he had no further interest in seeing the film again and he bet that the humans that he watched the movie with felt the same way.

Popcorn dropped from his lap as he stood up; his brother had a good layer of the stuff on his lap and shoulders. He choked a laugh back then gave his brother's popcorn-leaden shoulder a tap. His brother jumped almost at once; he flashed his eyes around the room a few times then slowly got to his feet. The aisle that was on the left side of the seats was full; it looked like all of the humans that he and his brother had watched the movie with were trying to leave from the door that was on that side of the room. He took one look at the congestion that was happening on the left-side aisle before leading his brother to the aisle that was on the right side of the seats.

Popcorn crunched underfoot as they went towards the aisle. He cringed every time he stepped on a piece of popcorn or on a piece of candy that one of the humans that were seated in the balcony above had dropped. He bet he'd be having a merry time later on in trying to get the undersides of his shoes clean—popcorn may clean easily but the greasy butter would make for some sticky moments later on, as would the crunched-upon candy bits.

Lazeer stopped only once during their trek to the right-side aisle. He shook himself like a dog, trying to dispel all of the pieces of popcorn that were on his body. When he felt that he was rid of all the strewn popcorn pieces he joined him on the aisle.

"Jeez!" he said after his left shoe became stuck to the carpet that was in the room.

"No, think what you're stepping on is pre-chewed bubblegum." Lazeer said.

"What... did everyone decide to drop their popcorn and other snacks on this aisle?" Lhaklar asked as he pried his shoe up from the carpet that it was stuck to.

"Probably why everyone flocked to the other aisle." Lazeer said.

His brother went up the aisle wisely—he either watched where he was stepping or he used a spell to make a small stretch of the aisle become popcorn and snack-free. He didn't do neither; when they exited the room, his shoes were a sticky, carpet-sticking mess! He made a quick bathroom trip to clean the bottom of his shoes after they left the room that they saw the movie in then he led his brother towards the front of the building. There was a crowd near the concession stand—probably the next round of movie-goers getting ready for their feature shows, he thought as he led his brother to one of the building's front, revolving doors. Unless it was that silly cartoon movie, or that romance movie starring Bruce Williams and Helen Richardson, or that over-the-top fantasy movie that starred little-known actors and actresses like Rebecca DiAngelo and Rick Sanchez, the next round of popcorn throwing and candy chucking was about to happen. He was personally glad that the movie that he and his brother had gone to see was over. It was time to return to the real world. Time to return to their normal, usual, daily routines.

"What was your favorite part?" Lazeer asked just before they left the theater.

"When the creatures escaped the lab." Lhaklar replied. "That tornado tore that place to pieces—I'm surprised that the other experiments didn't escape."

"You shitting me? That tornado looked so fake! Ma could of made a better one with both of her hands super-glued to her back." Lazeer exclaimed.

"The effects were pretty bad but the mangling of the building looked pretty spot-on to me." Lhaklar said back. "I suppose the scene where the church-people were attacked was your favorite?"

"No—that scene where the Tumbleweeds attacked that sunbathing babe at the lake was my favorite." Lazeer replied.

"That scene would of been better if they'd of not blotted out her breasts." Lhaklar said. "Don't really understand the reason on why her breasts were blotted out—they showed her undressing, and they also showed her rolling over to "bathe" on her back, yet they blotted out her breasts?"

"They "blotted" most of her body when she was running from the Weeds too." Lazeer said. "Probably a public theater thing—they wanted to keep it as PG-13 as they could for the younger crowds. The teenagers like us, y'know."

"They showed the un-blotted version of that woman running from the Tumbleweeds in the trailer." Lhaklar pointed out.

"Seeing a movie trailer at home isn't considered "public viewing"." Lazeer said. "That's a private viewing—why do you think a different version of what's shown in theaters is sold six to eight months after a film's theatrical debut?"

A bitterly cold breeze struck them after they left the theater. Lhaklar pulled his coat around him tighter while Lazeer did his best to ignore the cold. They crossed the street then made a right turn; there was a small eatery down the street from where they were. The sign that was displayed in the eatery's parking lot said something about low-cost hot coffee and cocoa's being served. The thought of having a hot coffee or cocoa after being greeted by such a fiercely cold blast of air seemed like a good one; they were surprised that it wasn't snowing—it seemed to of dropped ten degrees since their entrance to the theater happened nearly two hours ago.

Except for the change in temperature, the outside world seemed to of changed very little since their entrance to the theater. The sky was still a bright blue color; there were a few fluffy clouds drifting here and there but, for the most part, the sky was clear. The activity around the theater was normal; the humans were going by their business, either going to this store or that store or to a parked car or were just enjoying a good walk before having to return to work. The grass that was between the buildings, that were on the same block that the theater was on, was a strange, green color—seeing as the rest of the grass in the area was either a dead-yellow or brown color, the green grass seemed out of place and foreign.

There was a bank up the road a bit from the small eatery that they were walking towards. One of them digital boards that told the time and the temperature was in the bank's parking lot; when the time was displayed on the digital board, they saw that it was nearing eleven-thirty. They stopped when they saw what the temperature was a few seconds later.

The country of Germany, like the rest of Europe, used the Celsius scale to tell the temperature instead of Fahrenheit. The digi-board was showing a reading of -2.22° Celsius. In Fahrenheit, that meant it was a frosty, twenty-eight degrees outside. It was around thirty-two degrees when they left the house nearly two hours before; during their time spent in the theater, it dropped four degrees. Lazeer was tempted to jump up and down like a loon. Just seeing that temperature read-out made him feel colder!

They stared at the digital read-out in shock for a few seconds before hurrying along to the eatery that's sign said it served low-cost hot coffee and cocoa. After seeing how cold it was outside, they really wanted to get inside, get something warm or hot in them, and then get on their way. Lhaklar, who reached the eatery first, grabbed and then held the door open for his brother; Lazeer went in then stepped to the side. He followed his brother to the counter a few seconds later.

"Thank you, come again." the cashier said to the man that was in front of them. The man grabbed the two items that he ordered then left the line; Lhaklar and Lazeer stepped up to the counter afterwards. "Hello—the Irene kids, right?"

"Yessir," Lhaklar said. "One of the older and one of the younger."

"Nice to meet you, how may I help you on this wintry near-afternoon?"

"We'd like a coffee and a—" Lhaklar turned to look at his brother.

"Two coffee's." Lazeer said, taking his cue from his brother in placing his order.

The two coffee's were hot but they weren't "low-cost". Lhaklar, who said earlier that he wasn't paying for anything other than his brother's movie ticket, paid the cashier for their beverages, which cost him nearly ten euros, then he grabbed the two cups that the beverages were poured into twenty seconds later. They grabbed two packets of creamer while on the way out of the eatery then, once they were back to being outside, they walked over to where there was a concrete fence. When they reached the concrete fence, they sat down; they added some creamer to their coffee then took a sip of what they had ordered. Lazeer's face pinched-in not long after that first sip was taken.

"Uh!" Lazeer groaned. He fought the urge to dump his coffee over the side of the concrete fence. "Home-made coffee is ten-times better than this crap!"

"Anything home-made is better than what's made at a convenience store or pit-stop." Lhaklar said back.

"Hope the other things that I got at that place are better than this," Lazeer chugged two more mouthfuls of his coffee down; he shook his head then placed his coffee down on the fence, beside him, afterwards.

"Quit complain' and drink your coffee, will ya? The taste may be bad but it's hot." Lhaklar said. He whistled at two blonde-haired women that were walking by; before he realized the meaning of what his brother had just said, he struck a "studly" pose. He kept the pose going for nearly ten seconds before letting it go. He had just let the pose go when the meaning of his brother's words struck him. "I don't recall you going up or paying for anything at the counter, what're you talking about? What "other things" did we get while at—"

"Y'think I wasn't spell-shopping while you was ordering?" the corners of Lazeer's O-shaped mouth curved up; he stood from his seat on the concrete fence then turned around. He mouthed a spell; two Berliner donuts and two Schneeballen or "snowball" pastries appeared where he had just been seated. Lhaklar looked at the four pastries in silence before sighing; he shook his head then took one of the two Schneeballens.

"Bon Appétit—thanks for reminding me about keeping an eye on you ya fuckin' little thief."

It was more the use of the curse word than the admittance of thievery that made his initial jab with the sleeper dart miss its intended mark. The Young Masters, he told himself, were living as bachelors—had been on their own—for nearly a year. While some of the youngsters might of been able to find or come by some sort revenue the others might not of been that fortunate; some of the youngsters might of been forced into playing the role of a thief to get by. To end the torture that their gurgling bellies had forced them to endure. To clothe themselves. To keep warm at night. Maybe even to tend to wounds like the one that his employer's youngest son sported on his face.

He and his co-workers did nothing more than "sit" and wait for their employer's two sons to exit the building that they left only minutes before. Some of them paced while waiting; others went off to have a smoke; while others just stood in place. He didn't know who looked more frozen. Homsi was having a hard time standing still; Abevo had come close to going back to camp on more than two occasions; Molxax's face and glove-less hands were an interesting shade of blue; and Gagneau looked very much like the term of Frozen Popsicle. Of the eight persons that made up his group, it was really only he and the Gzujus twins that were remaining sane. Homsi had basically grabbed the ones nearest him after he called in to relay what he and Abevo had seen; of the six men that came to his and Abevo's aid, only Molxax thought about bringing sleeper darts along.

While they waited for their employer's two son's to come out from the building that they went in, they discussed matters on how to capture them. Naturally, capturing the two without harming or causing them to go through too much stress was high on their list; they didn't want the Young Masters to get sick, nor did they want more injuries added on to what they already had, and they didn't want to attract too much attention to the attempt in capturing the two youngsters either. None of them had a net or anything that could be used as a net on their persons. That went double for rope. Until Molxax said something about their using sleeper darts, they hadn't had a solid plan in capturing the two youngsters in-place; a plan was formed after Molxax showed them the three sleeper darts that he had on his person.

"It's pretty cold out. They'll be too busy trying to keep warm to worry about their surroundings; let's keep to the shadows while following them." Kohl Zolwin said. "Have the darts ready for use—when they sit down, or stop, we rush forward. Two jabs, we wait, they fall asleep, then we take them back to camp."

"And if they don't stop or sit down?" Homsi asked.

"Use the pea shooter," Molxax said. The pea shooter that he had in one of his coat pockets was shown and then handed around.

"I don't think us rushing out at them would work—they'd bolt on us." Gagneau said.

"Can we use just one dart to bring them down?" Molxax asked.

"One dart carries enough sleeper agent for just one person. In order for them to both be brought down quickly and harmlessly, two would have to be used." Kohl replied.

The plan of their sticking to the shadows while following the two boys after they exited the building that they went in was decided upon; Homsi was given two of the three darts then, after some thought, he was given the third. Up to twenty minutes ago, that plan remained the same; since Homsi was having such a difficult time in standing still, he won the job of administering both darts by default. He was currently crouched low; he was right behind the older of his employer's biological sons. He had already missed the hand that he intended to nick once; if he missed on the next jab, he'd have no other choice but to use the pea shooter that Molxax had given him to use.

"Forgive me," he thought as he readied his next jab. "I'm not doing this to harm you."

"Remember the movie that Hazaar dragged us to a few years back? The one that had the "tornado" that was made-up of nothing but sharks?" the younger of the two boys asked his older brother.

"Waterspout," the older of the two boys said after nodding his head. "Yeah, corniest piece of shit I've ever seen—my life lost an hour and forty-five minutes thanks to that movie."

"He tried to drag us out to see the sequels when they came out—"

"We feigned illness to miss-out on seeing them."

"He forced us to watch them after they came out on DVD."

"The sequels were just as bad as the original!"

The older boy ate the rest of the pastry that he took from the concrete fence's surface in silence. When he was done with the pastry, he belched into the back of his hand; he was reaching for one of the two remaining pastries when Losal Khrelan jabbed the dart that he had in his hand forward. Lhaklar's hand had just settled over one of the two remaining pastries when the needle that was on the end of the dart entered him; the needle's pinch shocked him so much that he jumped back. The pastry that he just grabbed was thrown to the side. He checked his hand after he jumped from the fence then shook his head after he started feeling the effects of the sleeper agent that was in the dart that was just used on him.

The second dart that Losal pulled out from his coat pocket was never used. Lazeer vacated the concrete fence right after his brother did. He went to his brother quickly then turned around after hearing a noise behind him. He was the one that noticed the Goblin first.

"You!" Lazeer exclaimed.

"Young Master Lazeer," Losal said after standing to his full height of five feet.

"Lhaklar..." Lazeer turned to look at his brother; he was surprised to see his brother walking off in a daze. "Lhaklar!"

"He'll be fine, sir." Losal said. He leaped over to the side of the fence that his employer's two sons were on then walked forward. "No need to worry about him—he's just sleepy."

Lazeer looked at his brother, who was now mouthing and saying spells to keep himself awake, then he looked at the Goblin that was coming towards him. This wasn't what he had expected to happen after seeing the movie; getting a coffee was a surprise, deciding to sneak some pastries for him and his brother was also not expected, and neither had this assault. Up to a few seconds ago, his world was peachy-fine. Seeing the movie had brightened his mood. Getting a coffee, then deciding to sneak some pastries from the shop that he and his brother had gotten their coffee's from, had kept his mood good; his brother's reaction to his sneaking the two Berliner donuts and the two Schneeballen pastries had made his mood feel even better. While he wasn't one that liked to steal, and while he did his best to not steal, there were times where he did steal—like when something was too ridiculously over-priced or when he was in dire need of something. He and Lhaklar could of just gone home to get something warm to eat and drink; they could of had home-made hot cocoa or coffee or tea or they could of made a soup of some kind. Neither of them had needed to go to the convenience store that they went to.

They could of just shook hands and then gone their separate ways instead of going off to the convenience store! He could of already purchased his February magazine issues; Lhaklar might of already gotten his monthly cigarettes or magazines. They might of already gotten what they needed for the models that they had yet to get started on or completed. He had plans to get some food for his frogs, salamanders, and newts; the container that housed the crickets that he got each month was nearly empty—he needed another box of insects for his pets. There was a new type of insect that he had plans to look into for his pets that day—the guy that owned the pet store in town had just started getting some Tomato Worms, a large, green caterpillar-type worm that was a big pest to gardeners yet was also a good source of calcium for exotic animals like lizards and amphibians, in his shop. He had his allowance on him; along with getting the usual box of crickets, the box of meat bits, and the wax worms, he might of also bought some Tomato Worms for his pets.

From what things looked like now, it looked like his plans for the day were shot. Seeing the movie that he and his brother were so "hip" on looked to be the only thing on his To-Do list to be crossed off. That pissed him off! With so many things to do that day he didn't need this shit!

"Hazaar was attacked by our father last year, on the twenty-third of October, when we were at that fair. One of my grandfather's attacked Bike, Lhaklar, and Guyunis on the same night." he thought as more Goblins joined the one who had since stopped coming towards him. "Baruk, Gaajah, and Selik attacked Guyunis on the thirty-first of October; another of my grandfather's attacked Guyunis in November, twice." he moved closer to his brother, who had suddenly dropped to his knees, as he continued to tally up the bad things that happened to him and his family over the last couple of months. "I came close to losing a brother in early November—my mother's father tried to kill Lhaklar. Lhaklar and Hazaar were both chased through a portion of Berlin city a month later. Guyunis had a fight with that Trobrencus-guy last month, on the eighth of January."

"What're you waiting for?" the Goblin that he vaguely remember the name of said to the Goblin that was the cause of whatever was going on with his brother. "You've got another dart on you—use it!"

"I fear that if I do he'll hurt himself." the Goblin, who had green skin, a few warts on his face, a thin but long nose, and short, scraggly brown hair, said back.

"Nosense, Losal! Them darts are fast-acting—"

"With the way he looks, I doubt if one'd work fast enough." the Goblin named Losal replied.

"Lhaklar?" Lazeer said. He placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. His brother shook his head then looked at him.

"Teleport," Lhaklar said. Sleep was very heavy in his voice. "Teleport us home, Lazeer."

"While one still stands they have chance to get away!" the brown-skinned Goblin, who had large, expressive, blue eyes, said to Losal. "Use the dart! Now!"

"Lhaklar wouldn't have that gash on the side of his head and I wouldn't have a gash across my left eye if he wasn't on the planet." Lazeer thought. The thoughts were now adding fuel to his temper. He could feel his temper gauge rising... going from its cool blue color to a purple color.

"I'd do as Mr. Modulavich says, Mr. Khrelan." one of the Goblins in the group, this one having medium-blue skin, brown eyes, a face full of warts, and platinum-blond hair, said to Losal, who was just standing in place. "The younger one is getting anxious—that is not good."

"I administer the dart and he rushes forward... starts putting up a fight... I can't do that, Mr. Altamurod. He could hurt himself, or one of us could accidentally hurt him." Losal said back.

"Administer the dart, Losal!" Mr. Modulavich said anxiously.

Lazeer decided on a course of action right when Mr. Modulavich leaped at Losal, who had remained standing in place, doing nothing more than staring at them. Lhaklar had since dropped to his side; the arm that was in a splint was twitching ever so slightly while the rest of him was still. Lazeer had just placed his hand on his brother's shoulder when the two Goblins started fighting one another; a single snore was heard from his brother right when he teleported him from the area. Lhaklar, the brother that was born five hundred years before he, appeared all safe and sound in their family's house a second later.

His temper gauge rose into the red category right when the other Goblins that were in the opposing group started working on getting Mr. Modulavich separated from Losal Khrelan; with the rest of his day being blown, and with all of what he and his family had endured over the last couple of months fresh on his mind, he rushed forward. He had just sent out a triple-beam of yellow energy when Mr. Modulavich was separated from Losal Khrelan.

"Molxax! Gagneau!"

The hard feelings that he felt towards his co-worker were forgotten as Molxax Framavaz and Gagneau Altamurod went to war with their employer's youngest son. Molxax and Gagneau were right beside him when Losal's call came in. He wasn't thinking when he asked them to assist in helping Mr. Khrelan, Mr. Speelin, and he in retrieving their employer's two sons. Both men were new to his employer's service; Molxax had only a year under his belt while Gagneau had less than six months under his. Neither had any loyalty to his employer and neither showed any true regard or respect towards his employer's children—the last was a hard, true fact; he had seen both men speaking negatively about his employer's only daughter more than once and, of course, there was the fight that they were currently having with his employer's youngest son.

All of them were taught the right's and wrong's on how to either adhere or on how to not adhere to one of their employer's orders while being enrolled at Staffer's Academy and they were also taught when it was right to defend themselves when either their employer or one of their employer's family either threatened or tried to abuse them physically. If the youngster that was engaged in battle with Molxax and Gagneau was a man, and if the fight between the three was caused by the youngster inflicting some sort of bodily harm to Molxax or Gagneau, they'd of not put much effort in on trying to separate them. Young Master Lazeer was a kid. A stressed out kid that was just taking his stress out on them. He saw the signs of stress very quickly in the kid, which was the reason for why he was so adamant on Losal using a dart on him. Sleep would make the stress go away. Sleep would cause any and all fights to be minimal. Sleep would make for an easier capture and it'd also make any injuries sustained during the capture drop to zero.

There were eight in his group. Of the eight, there were two openly fighting his employer's son; he, Abevo, Losal, Ulok and Olok, and Kohl Zolwin were trying to separate their employer's young son from the two older, maturer men that he was fighting with.

The middle of the concrete fence, which separated the parking lot that belonged to some restaurant or eatery called Jacques Meyer's Culinarium from Steigenhohlstraße street, went up in a million pieces after a good-sized, red-colored energy ball struck it. Two vehicles careened to a stop; the drivers just barely missed being struck by beams of either yellow or purple-colored energy. A wave of black acid splashed against the remaining left-side fence. That part of the fence melted on impact; the rest of the fence was blasted to smithereens after their employer's youngest son started using a form of his Ground Elemental powers. Molxax received a few good punches to the face and gut; an energy ball sent him into a rage that none of them was able to quell. Molxax Framavaz, a mildly obese Goblin, who had brown-yellow skin, blue eyes, a face that was nearly devoid of warts, but that sported a goatee, and brown hair, threw just about everything he had into the fight against their employer's youngest son. Abevo Speelin grabbed and then restrained Gagneau Altamurod at the last second; a loud siren was heard right when they started fighting.

The parking lot where Molxax was standing suddenly rose and then collapsed in on itself. Lazeer swung his arms down then raised them slowly; the broken pieces of asphalt and concrete rose nearly six feet before being thrown forward. Molxax leaped out of the hole that he was dropped into at just the right second—if he remained in the hole another second or two, he would of been buried alive! Molxax rushed at the youngster after he leaped out of the hole; a loud, meaty thud was heard after the two collided. The youngster was thrown off-balance for a second before coming at Molxax again—he used combination attacks in this round; either a form of his Energy powers or a form of his Acidic powers combined with his Elemental powers.

Molxax was thrown back twice; he yelled in pain, then roared in rage after noticing that his brown coat and gray tuxedo were burned from his body from the waist-up. He charged at the youngster after he noticed the condition of his clothing; the fight was pretty much over after the two collided. Molxax pummeled the youngster's top half and face with his fists, then with the undersides of his arms, before being grabbed from behind. The damage, Homsi noticed quickly, was already done. The left side of his employer's young son's face, which was already pretty badly bruised and swollen, was bleeding quite profusely. The gash that went across the youngster's left eye was re-opened; the youngster's lower lip was busted open and there was a long cut to his right cheek. The Gzujus twins pulled Molxax as far back as they could then, like clockwork, they teleported out of the area. Abevo grabbed Gagneau Altamurod when a blue-and-gray car that had the word Polizei on its sides and hood pulled up; he teleported them out the area quickly without saying a word. Homsi took one look at the vehicle then turned his attention towards his employer's son, who was slowly rolling over to his stomach. Homsi had just wrapped his hand around the youngster's wrist when Losal Khrelan and Kohl Zolwin ran up.

"Let me go!" Lazeer yelled. When he saw the policeman, he started calling out for help. "Hey! Help! Help! I'm being beat up!"

"Grab and teleport now!" Homsi yelled. Losal and Kohl did as they were told. They either grabbed his free hand or his hoodie before teleporting to camp. The cop that was left behind shook his head in shock; it took him a minute to figure out what he had just seen.


	44. Chapter 44

Like Lhaklar and Lazeer, Baruk and his gang of ruffians—which consisted of Gaajah and his younger brother, Selik; Baruk's younger brother, Sudir; and Bohir—saw Attack of the Tumbleweeds too but, unlike Lhaklar and Lazeer, the group didn't see the film in a theater somewhere. Bohir's dad possessed a nifty device in his ship that could pick up not only signals of in-coming ships that were trying to play the sneak-routine on him but also specific satellite tv channels along with certain signals that cinema's gave off. By way of tuning into the device, Bohir had noticed the very same trailer that Lhaklar and Lazeer had seen only four days prior; he got so excited over seeing the trailer that he decided to bug his mother in an attempt to see the film. Bahne, after two days of constant nagging, had relented on one occasion: that Bohir invite several other male children over to watch the film with him.

While Bohir was big in body and strength he wasn't a dummy by any means; Baruk and Gaajah had long since drifted away from being interested in seeing small-budgeted, monster or creature films that, nine times out of ten, were more crappy than good. Instead of going to Baruk and Gaajah first he went to their younger brothers; Selik and Sudir still had an interest in seeing Sci-Fi and monster/creature features and they didn't care if the films were crappy, small or large budgeted, or if the films boasted a well-known or hardly known cast line-up. The two did just has he had expected; they got excited after he gave them a general description of what he saw in the movie trailer, they were more than willing to join him in watching the movie.

In stark contrast, it took him four or five times to get Gaajah to say yes; Baruk only agreed to join him, Gaajah, Selik, and Sudir in watching the film after being told to by his mother. He had purposely skipped on asking Phaggo Ubalki if he wanted to see the film—like Baruk, Bohir also thought poorly of Phaggo; his mother would of been the only one to persuade him into asking Phaggo if he wanted to join-in on seeing the movie.

While Lhaklar and Lazeer saw the film in a normal, natural way, Bohir and his group saw the film in relative luxury—in a room that had a large screen on one side, a popcorn dispenser that gave out more than four varieties of popcorn, a snack machine that spat out just about any snack-food known in the Universe, and a soda machine in it. Lhaklar and Lazeer had to share their experience in watching the film that they wanted to see with thirty or so other human teenagers; Bohir had just Baruk, Gaajah, Selik, and Sudir to share the film with. While Lhaklar and Lazeer watched the film quietly and maturely, Bohir and his group did not. Bohir and his group started throwing popcorn at one another soon after the film's start; they also started pushing and kicking one another around. Baruk and Gaajah used the back of the chairs that were in front of them as foot-rests about halfway through the film. Selik and Sudir came close to breaking the soda machine when they tried to make a drink out of all fifty flavors that the machine had available at around the same time.

The room, which was clean, well-organized, and fresh-smelling prior to the boys' occupation, didn't look the same when the movie ended. A maid that was given the chore of cleaning the room up after the boys left it would compare it to Bohir's bedroom chamber about an hour or so later. It'd take the appointed maid nearly four hours to return the room to its former state; Trobrencus, who was currently trying to regain the weight that he lost during his tenure at Zhiwanook Hospital, and Bahne wouldn't be pleased after hearing about how the room had looked after their son and his gang had left it. Bohir wouldn't get much sleep that night thanks to his parents. Trobrencus and Bahne would wake their son up at around twelve o'clock to get on him for how the room had looked and to give him a lecture on how one in their family treated their material possessions.

Bohir wouldn't be allowed to watch another film alone, without parental supervision, for some months afterwards thanks to his involvement in making the room go from being so clean, organized, and fresh-smelling to looking like a disaster area.

Attack of the Tumbleweeds ran a length of an hour and forty-five minutes; Bohir and his group watched maybe twenty or so percent of it.

After the movie was over, they left the room then, not long after leaving the room, they left the ship. Selik and Sudir shivered after exiting the ship; they wrapped their arms around themselves while Baruk, Gaajah, and Bohir fought the urge to do the same. They walked down the ramp that ran down from the cane-shaped ship that belonged to Bohir's father slowly then stopped; they stood in place at the base of the ramp for the longest of time. They only moved after hearing someone yell out in the next camp over.

"What was that?" Bohir asked after hearing the yell.

"A girl didn't make that—it sounded like it had a male tone to it." Selik said.

Baruk stood in place for another ten seconds before leading the group across the gravel yard that separated Trobrencus's camp from his uncle's. They had only reached the halfway mark of their trek when they saw something that made them stop in their tracks. Baruk squinted after he saw it; he couldn't believe what he was seeing and neither did anyone else in his group. It took him five seconds to realize that one of his uncle's sons had been captured. When he realized what was going on, he turned then fled across the gravel; he had just reached the periphery line of his father's camp when Lazeer broke free from his three captors.

This wasn't the first time that Lazeer had gotten free from Homsi Modulavich, Losal Khrelan, and Kohl Zolwin; he had actually gotten loose from them after they finished teleporting to his father's camp. Unlike the first time, where he went maybe two or three feet before being grabbed again, he ran maybe fifteen or so feet before being grabbed and then restrained again.

The three Goblins fought with him gently. They tugged him towards the ramp that ran out from his father's ship, then they tugged him into the ship, then they found themselves having to nearly pick him up to take him to a room that wasn't being used. Lazeer thrashed around; one of his fists struck Homsi's nose twice while the rest of his movements fell far short of hitting anyone. When the three Goblins reached a room that they thought was appropriate for their employer's son, they wasted no time in getting the door opened or in getting the youngster inside; one of their co-worker's grabbed and then slammed the door shut right after they went in; the sound of the door being locked was barely audible.

"There should be some medical supplies in the bathroom," Homsi said after he and his two co-workers placed Lazeer on the room's one bed.

Losal released the boy then ran into the bathroom that was adjacent the room; he threw the door to the medicine cabinet that was over the bathroom sink open then grabbed what he thought the youngster needed for his injuries. Several of the cabinet's contents fell into the sink's basin—a container of toothpaste, an unused toothbrush, a box of band-aids, one of the two rolls of bandaging, one of the containers of gauze, and a small bottle of alcohol. Losal grabbed only the small bottle of alcohol that fell into the sink's basin then went back to the room that the youngster was in; upon his return, he saw that the youngster had, somehow, gotten loose from his restrainers.

Lazeer was practically bouncing from one wall to the next. Homsi was trying his best to retrieve him while Kohl was doing nothing more than standing in place.

"I don't think treating his injuries is going to happen—not right now, anyways." Losal said. He cringed after the youngster slammed shoulder-first into the locked door then he turned towards Kohl. "What're you standing there for? Help him—"

"Could we just leave him in the room alone? Let him cool down for a while?" Kohl asked.

"With the way he's acting, no." Losal said. He dropped the collection of medical supplies that he had in his arms on the floor then joined Homsi in trying to retrieve Lazeer.

It took five minutes for them to trap Lazeer in one of the room's corners; Losal and Homsi had only to look at the youngster's face to know that their employer would be up a wall and back after seeing him. Even when he was in Ettlingen, his left eye was closed; the goggled glass that was over that eye looked to be paining the youngster some but they didn't dare go forward to remove it. Neither man knew if the youngster had his eye or if it was just the swelling that was causing the eye to be closed. Kohl, thinkingly, yet also unthinkingly, went to the room's adjacent bathroom for a towel. He gave the towel to Homsi then stepped back; Homsi took one look at the towel before looking at the youngster, who was now blubbering, before shaking his head. He placed the towel on the light brown, mirror-drawered dresser that was to the left of the boy then went towards the door.

"Losal, Kohl, let's go. Give him some time to cool down." Homsi said.

"You sure that's wise?" Losal asked.

"At the moment, yes. We've got him scared half to death, that's not good for him."

"You going to contact his father after we leave here?" Losal asked as he backed towards the door.

"Might as well—the sooner the better." Homsi said back.

Neither he nor Losal or Kohl needed to tell anyone that their employer's youngest son was in the ship. Young Master Lazeer's screams and yells, and the noise that he, Losal, and Kohl had made on the way to the room that the youngster was in, had alerted everyone in his employer's ship to what was going on. Baruk had already taken care of relaying what was going on in their employer's camp; he ran right up to his father then, like clockwork, he spilled the tale of what he, his younger brother, Gaajah and his younger brother, and Bohir had seen. Kuruk had called his father who, in turn, had called his father who, like Duru, had placed a call to his uncle. The only ones that resided in the area that didn't know about Young Master Lazeer being captured were Master Tazir and his stepfather, Cheshire Ubalki.

At the moment, that was. His employer, who had a tendency of being a bit moody after getting up from a sound sleep, had woke up extremely groggy and with a bit more mood added in for flavor. He and his co-worker's had practically played tip-toe around the man; it was only after he decided to go out with his stepfather to do a little hunting that everyone breathed a little easier. Contacting his employer wouldn't be easy; his cellular phone and communicator were left behind, in his bedroom chamber. His stepfather had also left his communicator behind. There were only two ways to contact the man now. Either by contacting via magic and earnesty or by calling Mr. Ubalki's cellular number—which only he and Eldass had programmed in their own phones.

Losal and Kohl took one look at what was going on in the hallway then, without saying a word, took to guarding the door that went to the room that their employer's youngest son was in. It seemed like everybody—from their co-workers, to Rubacon and Tula, to Eshal and Ashaklar—were interested in seeing the youngster that was just brought in. As a way to keep the kid calm, and to aid him in de-stressing, the two men rebuffed anyone who tried to enter the room that he was in. The two men gave one of their passing co-workers their coats then stood still by the door; Homsi did his best to not run down the hall, that the room, that his employer's youngest son was in, was on. It took Homsi all of five minutes to traverse the congested hallways; when he got to the communications deck that was in his employer's ship he quickly set to work in trying to get in contact with his employer.

"The number you have dialed cannot be reached, leave a mes—"

"Damn!" Homsi cursed. He flipped the top of his cellular phone down then he flipped it back up again. He dialed the number four more times; each time he got that message. It was only on the sixth calling that he got somewhere.

Normally, when his cellular went off, he answered it and on the first ring too. With his being busy in skinning the animal that he just brought down, he wasn't able to answer whoever it was that was trying to reach him. While he wasn't annoyed over the constant calls—for all he knew, it could be his wife or one of his children or someone who worked for him in the mines back home—he knew that the constant call placements were annoying his stepson. Tazir had come close to nabbing a decently sized Siberian musk deer—a wild, deer-like animal that had a Kangaroo-like face and tusks—on two occasions since their arrival to Siberia. The first was an old male, which somehow eluded his stepson's arrows; the second was also a male, but it was younger and far faster than the first. The goat-like animal that his stepson came close to nabbing just four minutes ago was fifty-one inches long by thirty inches high and it had curve-backed, ringed horns and a long, bushy tail; if his cellular didn't go off, disrupting his stepson's hunt, or giving his stepson's whereabouts away, his stepson would of nabbed the animal.

While Tazir had said nothing on why he woke up on the way-wrong side of the bed that morning, he figured that something had happened for him to be so groggy, grumpy, and snappy. He quickly latched onto the idea of taking his stepson out for a hunting trip way east of their location—who knew, maybe a change in scenery was what the man needed; he and his stepson were residing and seeing a little too much of southern Germany lately, after all. He and Tazir were in the mountainous and nearly frozen-over Primorsky Krai territory, or, more specifically, the Sikhote-Alin, which was a mountain range situated in the Primorsky Krai. The flora and fauna in the area had since bounced back after all the plagues and natural disasters that happened on the planet so there was plenty around for him and his stepson to look at, examine, and either gather or hunt.

"Hot damn!" his stepson exclaimed after releasing the arrow that he just placed in his bow. He grabbed two more arrows from his pack then shot them at a bush that was currently moving to and fro maniacally.

"Tazzy?" Cheshire said.

His cellular phone went off for the sixth time in fifteen minutes right when his stepson ran off towards the bush that he was firing his arrows at. Tazir disappeared; he remained unseen for nearly ten seconds. When he appeared, he had a twenty-eight inch long, dirty, earth-brown or brownish-grey colored animal that had a short tail with him. His stepson dropped the animal beside the doe-moose that he landed some minutes before; after his stepson dropped to his kill's side he acknowledged him.

"Think my M-Special Curved bow and feather-tipped arrows want a date with your phone," he said.

"If I wasn't me I'd seriously consider chucking the thing." Cheshire said back. He was reaching for his cellular phone when it suddenly stopped ringing.

"My jaw would become non-existent if you did such a thing." TazirVile said.

They went on in cleaning their kills; Cheshire pulled his cellular out from the inside of his heavy wool coat then placed it down on a rock nearby, TazirVile used a long knife to cut the pelt from his kill, which he said was called a Bear Dog, then he started removing the organs that he wanted to keep. Most of the organs that the animal had in it were small; only enough for one person. Regardless of their size, he decided to keep them. He needed the proteins that were in each organ to keep healthy and strong—Eshal had never really acquired a taste for organ-meat; she preferred a plain meat-vegetable-fruit diet with no exotics added in.

Before his stepfather's phone rang for the seventh and last time, he had time to wonder if his sons had acquired the taste for organ-meat. Angel claimed that she taught the boys well in the art of hunting; while he had yet to see them out in a hunt he did believe that she taught them how to bring down game and how to prepare that game for cooking and then eating. Could the boys of gained a taste for eating the organs of their brought-down kills? The meat harvested from a downed animal wasn't the only thing that could be eaten or that was good for a consumer—the heart contained not only amble amounts of protein but also Thiamine, Folate, Selenium, Phosphorus, Zinc, CoQ10, and several B-vitamins; the liver contained not only amble amounts if Vitamin-A but also copper, Folic acid, and iron; the kidney's contained a protein that was low in fats, B-12, Riboflavin and iron, as well as healthy amounts of B-6, Folate, and Niacin; and the brain contained specific oils that were rumored to aid one's brain power. All of that was good for a growing boy and it was also good for a grown man; he liked dining on organ-meat once, maybe twice, a month. It helped him stay healthy, fit, and it also helped him stay sharp.

His daughter got all of what the heart, liver, kidneys, and brain offered in the protein drink that he made for her each morning so, in a way, she _was_ getting the proteins that she didn't want to consume voluntarily. The protein drink's chocolate taste was just there to throw her off from what she was truly consuming. He was grateful for the artificial chocolate flavoring that he added to the drink; if not for that artificial flavor, she'd not drink a sip of the drink that he—or one of his staff, who he personally trained on how to make the beverage—made for her each morning.

He was also grateful over his daughter not asking him for a sip of his drink. His protein drink might look the same as his daughter's but the taste was different; he didn't use the artificial flavoring on his. As his mother had always said, taking one's vitamins and proteins wasn't suppose to taste good.

"Gotcha on call number seven." Cheshire said as he snatched his phone up from the rock that it sat on.

"Tell whoever it is that I'm suing for the two hunts that he/she made me miss." TazirVile said. Cheshire nodded his head then answered his phone.

"Hello, who's th—... Whoa there, calm down, Mr. Modulavich. I'm sure that whatever's going on at camp can wait until—" TazirVile looked up and then over at his stepfather; had his stepfather just said the formal name that belonged to one of his employees? While keeping one eye trained on the knife that he was using to now severe the meat from his kill's bones, he both listened and watched as Cheshire spoke on the phone. He had just sent most of his cultivated kill back to camp via a spell when he noticed that most of the color that was in his stepfather's face had washed away. "Yes... yes, I'm sure that he'll speak with you on _that_ matter. Hold on, let me hand the phone to him."

The phone wasn't so much as handed over as much as it was thrown. The phone, a device that was so small that both Cheshire and TazirVile had to use a stylus touch pen in order to press the buttons, landed just two inches from TazirVile's left foot; TazirVile looked at the phone, then at his stepfather, who was now saying a spell that'd sent the whole of his kill back to camp, before picking it up.

"Hello? Homsi?" he said after clearing his throat.

"Sir," his employer said back.

"You're disrupting my and my stepfather's hunt, Homsi. What's the reason for your call?"

"I apologize, sir, but I thought you should know that one of your sons was captured a little under twenty minutes ago." Homsi said.

The reason for why the color that was in his stepfather's face had washed away became clear; the color in his face drained so quickly that he became faint. Cheshire grabbed and then forced him to sit down on the ground after his face went from being its normal light blue color to a near-white color. Homsi's words buzzed around his head like incessant, nagging flies; he had to ask the man to repeat himself twice before believing him fully.

The Goblin, his Most Trusted Butler, claimed that two of his four sons were seen by two of his staff in a town some distance from his camp. His two sons were seen as going into a building and then, nearly two hours later, they came out and then went to a small store where some beverages were bought. Lazeer stole four pastries while at the same store. Soon after the dual-purchase and theft, his sons were approached; only one of them was caught and then taken back to camp. Homsi claimed that a sleeper dart was used on the older of his two biological sons; Lhaklar was sent to some unknown location by Lazeer who, Homsi openly admitted, had later turned on him and the rest of the Goblins that were trying to retrieve him and his brother. Lazeer was injured; two of his staff members were the cause for his son to be injured. At the moment, his youngest son was roosting, scared half to death, in room 25 of his ship.

"Who're the two that fought and then injured my son?" he asked. He was too numb to express much anger at the moment.

"Molxax Framavaz and Gagneau Altamurod, sir." Homsi replied.

"I'll be in camp in a few minutes. Have them two men out of my ship before I get there." he said. His employee said that he would. He hung up then looked at his kill. It took him a little more than a few minutes to process all of what he was just told.

Molxax Framavaz and Gagneau Altamurod took nearly five minutes to calm down; when Homsi told them to leave the ship and then, after noticing the steely looks that the two men gave him afterwards, told them who it was that told him to tell them to leave the ship, they did so and quickly. Homsi and the rest of his co-workers never saw neither man again. TazirVile would receive a formal resignation from both men a week to two weeks later.

Losal and Kohl, the latter a green-skinned Goblin, who had warts on his cheeks, chin, and a single wart growing on his forehead, and solid black eyes, remained at their self-proclaimed posts until their employer showed up. It took TazirVile all of ten minutes to get himself together. He told his stepfather that his participation in the hunt that they were doing was over then he teleported to his camp; Cheshire saw to sending the man's left-behind kill back to camp himself then he, himself, teleported to camp. He just barely made it into his stepson's ship before the airlock hatchway doors, which had since been repaired, closed. TazirVile stopped only long enough to remove his winter-wears before going to the room that his son was put in. While on the way there, he encountered his mother and then his daughter; while his mother didn't stop him from going to room 25, his daughter did.

"Daddy," she said, timidly, yet innocently.

"Eshal," he said back. He stopped only long enough to see what it was his daughter wanted.

"He came in screaming and yelling—I've heard that he was badly hurt by two of the men that brought him in..." his daughter trailed off; she was obviously upset over hearing what she had.

"Whatever injuries he has he won't have for long. I'll take care of the men who hurt him, don't you worry any on that one." he said. He hugged his daughter then went on his way.

As he walked along, he couldn't help but wonder if his son being injured while being retrieved was the cause for his not being able to sleep well last night. A feeling fell over him right after his head hit the pillow; it didn't let him sleep, it didn't let him think, and it didn't let him lie still. This feeling, which was both ominous and frenzy-like in origin, was felt all night long and he didn't know the reason for why. The feeling couldn't really be called a premonition; no images or identifying names had clicked with it. It was just a feeling with an unknown cause.

Eshal was checked on. He did a personal check-in on his mother and stepfather, then on Tula and Rubacon. Homsi and the rest of his staff were sound or nearly sound asleep. He was the only one awake and alert last night; the only one with an ominous, frenzy-like feeling and the only one with a worry on his shoulders.

"Sir," Losal said after he reached the room that his son had reportedly been put in.

"Losal," he said back. "What's the room been like? Has he been quiet or—"

"He started banging the back of the door after we left. Not a sound's been heard for the last twenty, twenty-five minutes." Kohl answered.

"Whatever happens in this room you two remain out here—don't let anyone in." he said as he dug in one of his pants pockets for the key-ring, that had all the keys, that went to the doors, that were in his ship, on it.

When TazirVile went into the room, he found it to be totally and, to him, forebodingly deserted. The light brown, mirror-drawered dresser, that had six drawers to it, still had the towel that Homsi placed on it nearly thirty minutes ago. The assortment of medical supplies, that Losal dropped to the floor, were also still in-place, untouched, and offendingly cold-looking. The bed, which had one of them Z-shaped, light brown frames, was unoccupied; if not for the misplaced towel, and medical supplies, he would of thought that a cruel sort of joke was being played on him.

As his eyes swept the room, taking notice of the stresses that happened in it, he noticed other little things that were out-of-place. There were some carpet drag-marks on the room's light and dark brown, Leopard-print carpet; the rattan chair, that was in one of the room's corners, was on its side; the bronze lamp, that had a cream-colored shade, was half-on, half-off the light oak bedside table. The room's light brown walls and ceiling seemed cold and distant, for some reason. Something had happened in the room. A fight or struggle of some sort. He had just taken a breath, was just gearing up to say his son's name, when he heard a sound—a small, shuffling, footstep—come from the room's adjacent bathroom.

"Lazeer?" he said softly.

Lazeer rounded the corner at the same time that his father took a step towards the very bathroom that he went in ten minutes ago. After sitting in a theater for nearly two hours, he needed to pee and pretty damn badly too. He used the toilet then he stood before the mirror that was the medicine cabinet's door. He almost started crying after seeing what his reflection looked like; the left side of his face looked worse than ever now and he had them two Goblins to thank for it!

His father's reaction was forcibly restrained; he didn't need to be told that the man was fighting the urge to yell and puke at the same time—the left side of his face had made him come near to doing them two things only ten minutes ago. Before his fight with the two Goblins, his face had just looked badly scabbed over and bruised. The left side of his face was also a little under halfway swollen too. Fresh blood was trickling from the gash that went across his left eye now; the bruises that he had earlier were a darker color now; and his face was more than three times its normal size. To make matters worse, his lower lip was swollen to nearly twice its size. He didn't know what hurt him more—his lower lip or the mess that was the left side of his face.

Using anything on his face was out of the question. He didn't need to be told that, if he touched it with anything—water, medicine, bandaging, etc.—, it'd hurt and bad. At the moment, he just wanted to go home. He wanted to run and then dive into the bed that was in his room, then he wanted to cover himself up and then either cry or go to sleep. Since he wasn't at home, he couldn't do neither of them things; all he could do was feel pain and be scared.

"Oh son," his father said. His father took two deep breathes then held his arms out at him. "Come here. Come, come here."

The flared temper moment, that he experienced while in Ettlingen, had long since passed but, still, the little flame that didn't want to go out grew in him. It went from a small flame to a small-range fire then, shortly after growing into that small-range fire, it exploded into a raging firestorm that charged his body with so much electricity that he started to wonder if he hadn't just gotten through being zapped back by a shorted out wire or wall outlet. He rushed at his father; he pushed him back then he started swinging his fists at him. His father reacted in a strange sort of calm way. He simply wrapped him up in a hug; he found his arms pinned to his sides thanks to that hug.

Whatever fire he had in him was quickly doused thanks to that hug. He was reduced to being nothing more than a blubbering embarrassment.

"It's okay, son. Daddy's here. Daddy's here and he'll make it all better and soon. He promises." his father, who seemed near to tears, said to him.

His son assaulting him was forgiven and then forgotten; with his son's injuries, and after what his son had just gone through, he thought that the assault was justified. It looked like Molxax and Gagneau had done a number and a half on the one child of his that was born prematurely and that was mostly, largely, ignored by the doctors that were in charge of his keep soon after his too-early birth. The injuries, up close, looked so bad... he was near ready to declare that his son had a crippling injury that'd keep him from living life normally. The goggled glass that his son was wearing was so clogged up with blood that there was no way that his son could see through it and he didn't know if his son could see out from the eye that was behind that glass. The lid was closed. The whole left side of his son's face was so badly swollen that it caused his eye to be temporarily sealed shut. Was there a circular-shaped, shiny, silver eye behind that eyelid or was there a pit from which nothing existed behind that eyelid?

In a way, he didn't want to know the answer to neither of them questions. He just wanted to stand in place. He just wanted to hold and comfort his son, who had obviously just gone through a very traumatic experience. As he stood there, he remember how Losal had looked—Losal's top lip was cut and bleeding; a bruise was forming on the man's right cheek; and the man sported a cut above his left brow. Homsi had said that only Molxax and Gagneau had fought and injured his son; could he of been trying to push the full blame on them two men when, in reality, there was a third party involved?

From what he was told, eight men were involved in the attempt in capturing his two sons—Homsi Modulavich, who he knew was just as harmless as a newborn baby; Ulok and Olok Gzujus, who he knew were also rather harmless, but who he also knew could get a bit mouthy and verbally defensive from time to time; Abevo Speelin, who was a rather quiet, yet hard-working man, who didn't seem to have a mean bone in his body; Kohl Zolwin, who, despite coming from a military family, was also a rather harmless guy who seemed to do his best in steering clear of trouble; Losal Khrelan, who, he knew, did have a history of being mildly violent—the man had once held his wife in such a way that her cheeks had started to bleed sometime after Bile was born—, but who was a right hard-working man who was intelligent and soft-spoken once he got to know one good enough; and, of course, Molxax Framavaz and Gagneau Altamurod, both of whom he didn't know much about. The two latter men had seemed of the hard-working type, but they also seemed rather elusive, shy, and too-themselves as well. The only things that he knew of the men were that Molxax had two sisters, a wife, and a pair of few-month old twin boys and that Gagneau had spent some "romantic" moments with Olok soon after being hired.

The gash that went across his son's left eye was open and bleeding; the tuxedo that he was wearing—which wasn't cheap by any means—would need a good cleaning after he got his son fixed up. He wasn't angry or disgusted about being bled on; his son could piss on him at the moment and he'd not feel or get a bit angry about it.

"Son," he said, trying to regain composure. His son was injured; he needed his help and all he was doing was hugging him. "Let's take this off."

The hoodie was nice. It looked brand new to him—green and black, with near-realistic blood splattering on the shoulders and upper torso. There were a few patches on the hoodie that needed to be cleaned; his son had bled on it a little but, like his tuxedo, it'd clean up and well. With the temperature being like it currently was outside, he wouldn't be surprised if he heard his son say that he stole it from a store somewhere—his son needed something to wear to keep him warm; he couldn't just go around in twenty-six or so degree temperatures with just a plain shirt and pants on. His son put little to no fuss in on his removing the hoodie that he was wearing; he tossed the hoodie over to the bed then he slowly reached his hand towards the elastic band that was around the left side of his son's head. He encountered problems after that move. Like with his face, his son was obviously super-sensitive to any form of touch that happened on that side of his head. His son yelled, then shoved him back from him; like when his son rushed at and then started swinging his fists at him, he allowed the motion to happen. He knew that his son was just expressing himself.

"I'm just trying to take your glass off, son." he said after rebounding from the wall that he was shoved against. To show meaning behind his words, he removed his specks—unlike his son, who wore just one, since he only had one photo-sensitive eye, he wore a pair; he passed one of his two ailments to his youngest son. The skin issue that he had, where his skin could burn easily, hadn't been passed on to any of his offspring. So far, that was. He took his goggled glasses off then he placed them on the dresser. After taking his specks off, he stepped forward; Lazeer took a step back then stood in place. The second attempt in taking his son's goggled glass off went off without a hitch; except for the moment where his son cringed after the sides of his glass bunched up against the tender, bruised areas that were around his damaged eye, the glass was removed and quickly.

He found himself unable to help his son further afterwards. Lazeer refused to let him touch, clean, or examine the gash that went across his eye. After nearly ten minutes of back and forth talk—of his offering his son specific things that he thought he'd like, of his chiding his son, of his threatening his son with specific punishments, and the such—, he decided to leave the room to regroup. His son, surprisingly, seemed happy to see him leave.

The first thing that he did, after leaving the room that his son was in, was grab and then pull Losal to the side. He needed to know if the man was involved in what happened between his son, Molxax, and Gagneau. If the man put on a front, he'd forcibly search his memories for the answers that he needed to know. Luckily, for both he and Mr. Khrelan, the usage of his Telepathic abilities was never exercised.

"Mr. Modulavich and I had a fight just before your son had his fight with Molxax and Gagneau." Losal said.

"The bruises and cuts that you harbor on you came from Homsi? I find that very difficult to accept, Mr. Khrelan." he said. "What was the cause for his and your fight?"

"I was the one in charge of administering the darts to your sons. Instead of darting Young Lazeer, I stood, doing nothing but watching him grow anxious. Homsi jumped at me to retrieve the darts that were on my person—our fight was over the two darts that I had in one of my coat pockets." Losal replied.

"Oh," he said, relievedly.

He told Losal to go clean himself up then, after Losal left, he appointed someone else to stand guard in Losal's place. He encountered Homsi while on the way to the chamber that he used to sleep in. Homsi looked a little worse than Losal. One of the man's large, expressive, blue eyes was red from a blood vessel bursting; there was a knot on the man's forehead; and there was a medium-sized bruise to the man's left cheek. It also looked like the man's nose was recently broken.

One almost never walked away from a physical fight unscathed. Homsi stood four foot, six inches and he weighed between seventy-four and seventy-seven pounds; the fight mustn't of been that serious between the two, considering the fact that Losal was a five foot Goblin who weighed between a hundred and a hundred and twelve pounds. Mr. Khrelan could well of put Mr. Modulavich in the hospital.

He only acknowledged Homsi before going on to the chamber that he slept in; on his way there, he met up with Abevo Speelin, who also looked rather roughed up. Abevo's right eye was swollen shut, the left side of the bottom of his lip was busted right open, and his knuckles were pretty bloody. Abevo placed the blame for his injuries on a fight that he had with Gagneau Altamurod, who, he claimed, he subdued to keep away from his son. Abevo went by his merry way after they spoke; he went into the chamber that he slept in then changed out from the tuxedo that he was wearing. He had just placed a plain black tuxedo on when he noticed that his cellular had waiting messages on it. He grabbed the phone then left the chamber that he was in; he had no more left the chamber when he bumped into his stepfather, who was flanked on both sides by his two older sons, Efagti and Amadh.

"What, you trying to make everyone on-board not recognize you?" Cheshire asked. "Don't think I've ever seen you wearing a plain, black tuxedo before."

"I surprise a lot of people sometimes," TazirVile said back. "No, had to do a change in clothing. Spent quite a while just standing with Lazeer hugged up against me—the wound to his face was and, I presume, is still bleeding; can't go around sporting blood on my clothes now can I."

"Is it that bad?" Cheshire asked. Alarm was evident on his face."

"As far as I can tell, it's badder than bad. I can't tell if he's lost his eye or not; his face is very badly swollen and he won't let me come within an inch of it."

"Need any help with him?" Efagti asked.

At first, he said no then, after thinking it over, and after considering the fact that his son might just continue to refuse his efforts in helping him by cleaning, examining, and then treating his injury, he said that he would appreciate any help that he was given. Cheshire, Efagti, and Amadh all volunteered without his asking them; a plan in what they were to do was discussed then they made their way to the room that his son was in. He warned each man on what he was about to see while on the way there; he put just as much detail in on the description of the wound that his son had to the left side of his face. He only stopped when they passed by the medical chamber; he grabbed a sterilized scalpel then he resumed the trek back to the room that he left only fifteen minutes ago.

His warnings might of been taken seriously hearing-wise but none of the men that he led to the room hadn't taken for account what he described visually. His stepfather and two half-brothers stopped short after entering the room; their reaction to seeing his son's injuries matched his reaction earlier to perfection.

"Son," TazirVile said. Like with the first time, when he entered the room, his son was exiting the room's adjacent bathroom. It looked like his son had tried to clean himself up a bit; while the excess blood that flowed from his facial wound was no longer on his face, his wound was still bleeding and the left side of his face was still very badly swollen. His left eye was still swollen shut. "You remember your grandfather and uncles?" his son nodded his head lightly, slowly. "They wanted to say hello, son. They haven't seen you in a while."

Cheshire went forward slowly; when he reached the youngster, he stopped then stood in place. It took Lazeer a good, long, two minutes to say hello and then acknowledge him in a little small talk. It was quite evident to all of the men in the room that the boy harbored no trust in them. It was also evident that Lazeer was suspicious of them too. Cheshire handled himself well. He was patient; he let Lazeer get use to his being close to him, then, after he was sure that the youngster was use to him, he took him over to the bed. The mostly cold, apprehensive reunion was shattered nearly five minutes later; once Lazeer was seated on the bed, or, more specifically, on Cheshire's lap, they moved forward. Cheshire wrapped his arms around Lazeer's chest at once then fell back on the bed; Amadh grabbed and then held Lazeer's arms while Efagti grabbed and then held Lazeer's legs.

"Youngest-born or not this kid's strong!" Amadh exclaimed after Lazeer started thrashing around.

A Silencer spell, that'd make any and all sounds heard from within a single, occupied room not be heard anywhere except for that room, hadn't been said after they entered the room that Lazeer was put in nearly an hour ago. Everyone in TazirVile's ship could hear Lazeer's pleading, which quickly turned to being angry, which, in very short order, turned to pained, screams. Kohl and Kalach, the two Goblins who stood, guarding the room's door, turned at once after hearing Lazeer's screams; both men cringed then, without putting much thought into it, reached into one of their pants pockets. A pair of ear plugs did the trick in making the screams go from being heard to being not heard.

Kohl and Kalach weren't the only ones to utilize ear plugs; half of the staff in TazirVile's ship applied a pair of ear plugs to their ears. All of the maids utilized ear plugs. Only a handful of TazirVile's butlers applied ear plugs to their ears; it was either because they were squeamish or because they became nervous over seeing or hearing anything that revolved around pain. Ashaklar tracked Eshal down; she took her to the room that Blaiga, Defe, and Qhuakiz were in quickly. Lazeer's grandmother promptly closed the door after entering the room; she then said a spell that made any sounds that happened outside of the room's door and walls not be heard.

TazirVile worked quickly in cutting the swollen side of his son's face. He cut into one of the marks that Guyunis made in October, after Bile noticed that his youngest brother's eye was swollen shut, then, working carefully, yet efficiently, he cut into the other mark that was on his son's face. TazirVile pressed on the two re-opened marks; a clear liquid, infection, and blood came out from the two marks slowly, at first, then it gushed out at an alarmingly fast rate that made a shiver roll down TazirVile's spine. TazirVile was the one that held his son's head steady. Cheshire had his hands full in keeping Lazeer pinned to the bed; Amadh was struggling to keep Lazeer's arms down; and Efagti was doing his best in trying to keep Lazeer from kicking out.

After most of the swelling went down, TazirVile inched a finger towards his son's still closed left eye. It was time for one of his unanswered questions to be given an answer; did his son still have his eye or had he lost his eye? He held his breath as he placed his finger over the lid that was over the area that was his son's eye then, in an instant, pulled the lid up.

"I'll be damned!" he said after the eye that was hidden behind the eyelid that he just pulled up was exposed. "His eye's fine. It hasn't been harmed in any way."

"I suggest that you clean the wound and fast, Tazzy!" Cheshire said. He was now having a hard time in keeping his grip on Lazeer.

TazirVile worked quickly in cleaning the gash that went across his son's left eye, then he went to work in releasing the pressure of his son's swollen lower lip. He medicated both wounds then, after taking a moment to consider a way to bandage them, so they'd not get re-infected, he left the room. He grabbed an eye-cup and a roll of flexible bandaging from his ship's medical chamber quickly then returned to the room; he placed the cup over the eye then he used most of the roll of flexible bandaging to keep the cup stationary. Before calling it a "day", he said a spell that'd keep his son from removing the bandaging from his face; when the spell was in place, he looked at Cheshire and then at Amadh and Efagti. It was a count of three; TazirVile counted to three, the three men released Lazeer's simultaneously then, in quick fashion, they left the room.

Lazeer shot up from the bed so fast that his head started to throb. A headache had already started to form sometime prior to their coming in to torture him; it had him firmly in its clutches now. His throat was raw, his face stung like hell, and he more than ever wanted to be home. He didn't see his list of options in getting out of the ship that he was in as very long. It didn't take him long to start calling out for help; he latched onto the first person that came to his tired, achy mind quickly.

"Mom," he called verbally, at first. When his voice started to ebb down to next to nothing, he started calling out to his mother mentally. "Mommy,"


	45. Chapter 45

The sleeper dart that he was given had a two-hour lifespan to it. When he woke up after them two hours were up, he found himself with a doozy of a headache! He also found himself with temporary amnesia; what happened? He recalled seeing a movie somewhere, but he couldn't remember what movie it was or where he saw it at. Had he come home after seeing whatever movie he went to see and then crashed on the couch? He still had his coat on; he was sweating thanks to his coat. He quickly removed his coat then slowly took it up to his room. After hanging his coat in his bedroom closet, he went to the bathroom that was on the same level that his room was on; he downed an Ibuprofen then went downstairs. After taking that Ibuprofen, he found himself ravenous; had he eaten anything after seeing the movie? His stomach was sure roaring for food. It was acting like he hadn't eaten a thing in hours, which he knew was wrong; while he couldn't remember what he had eaten, he knew that he had eaten breakfast that morning.

"Bile," he said after going into the dining room. His older brother was taking a one-serving, pepperoni, sausage, and green pepper pizza out of the oven.

"Sleepy-head who sleeps in his coats." Bile returned.

"Funny. When'd you get in?" there was a one-serving, meat-lovers pizza in the freezer. He took it out, then removed the plastic that was around it, then placed it on the cooking sheet that Bile had used to make his pizza on.

"Little under five minutes ago." Bile replied as he took his pizza to the kitchen's counter bar. "Saw you sleeping on the sectional when I came in; figured that the movie that you and Lazeer saw was bad or you spent some time with a lady after seeing the movie."

"Can't really tell you about how good or bad the movie was—I can't remember any of it." he replied.

"Lazeer run off after you two saw the movie?" Bile asked.

"Must have."

His pizza was done in fifteen minutes. He took it from the oven then he took it to the living room, where he thought he'd have a little privacy. The Ibuprofen that he took earlier wasn't helping him a bit. His temples were throbbing; it took him a little while to start in on his pizza thanks to his headache. Bile talking about Lazeer had made something click upstairs; he remembered seeing Lazeer jump from some white surface that looked like concrete sometime after the movie ended and he remembered his brother backing away from something that was nearly a foot shorter than he was. He couldn't remember anything else, though. He was half-willing to admit that what he remembered was a trick of his headache and whatever movie he saw. Lazeer was probably out somewhere; getting food for his pets, or hanging out with his friends, or gawking at the females that were walking around.

He finished his pizza then went upstairs to his brother's room; with all the models hanging down from his brother's bedroom ceiling, he had to either duck after entering to room or play the dodge game. Why his brother decided to hang his model plane and dinosaur skeletons from his ceiling was beyond him; the hanging models gave his brother's room a cluttered, junky look.

He went right to his brother's closet; Lazeer kept the plastic container, that he kept the crickets, that he bought for his salamanders, newts, and frogs, in, in his closet. He kept it on the top shelf. When he reached his brother's closet, he wasted no time in opening it or in taking the container down from the shelf that it was on. His throbbing temples began to throb a little more when he saw that the container was nearly devoid of the insects that were kept in it. The container looked to be in need of a cleaning. There were many outer cores of potatoes and apples on the container's bottom; those mixed in well with the cricket shit that also lined the bottom of the container. Seeing as he had nothing better to do he set to work in getting the container cleaned; the shit that lined the container's bottom, and the apple and potato cores, were either scooped and then flushed down the toilet or were put in a plastic bag. He sponge-washed the container then he put it back in his brother's room; all Lazeer'd have to do was open the box that his February-purchased crickets came in then dump them into the container.

"No slackers in my family—them Glass frogs that Mr. Leinart gave Lazeer last month spent all of two days in an invisible cage before being moved to the cage that they're in now." he thought as he went towards the exo terra cage that housed the five Glass frogs that his brother received on the twenty-secondth of January.

The fold-out table, that was to the left of his brother's bedroom door, made the room look even more cluttered. The exo terra cage, that was on the table, had the appropriate environment that the frogs that were in it needed; all of the frogs that were in the cage were healthy... and vocal! Lazeer had more that one male in the cage. They gave out their high-piercing calls at least two to three times a day and about twice a night. It was taking them a little while to get use to his brother's new pets' calls; in comparison, the calls that his brother's Vietnamese mossy frogs made were much softer and barely audible.

He looked into the cage after reaching it. Two of the five frogs were stuck to the exo terra's pull-out, glass doors. He could see their small, red hearts beating—which he thought was pretty cool. Lazeer must of fed his frogs earlier that morning; the two frogs, that were on the cage's doors, were fat and their color was rather vibrant. He contemplated taking the plastic containers that the Emperor Newts and Salamandra salamandra bernardezi's were in out from the bookcase that was to the right of the bedroom door for a little while before turning around. He left the room right when the phone rang. He didn't know the reason why he ran downstairs; he bumped into Hazaar, who had just gotten home, then he ran into the living room.

Bile had the handset in his hand when he ran into the room. He claimed the phone right out from his hand.

"Dude! Where's the fuckin' fire?" Bile exclaimed.

"Good question," he thought as he pressed the button that was on the phone that'd enable him to speak to whoever it was that was calling. "Hello?"

"Lhakie? Hey there," for some reason, he seized up. The voice, that was on the other end of the phone, was his mother's.

"Hi, mom." Lhaklar said after swallowing hard.

"I've only got a bit longer here before coming home," his mother said. "I was wondering if you could tell me how things are at home?"

"Things're fine here. Nothing out of the ordinary happenin', Bile's been home a little less than fifteen minutes..."

"How about Hazaar, Guyunis, and Lazeer—I only ask because I've been hearing someone trying to get in contact with me; it's been two hours since I started hearing a small, scared, pleading, male voice."

He was about to respond to his mother when it all came rushing back to him. He remembered it all now.

He and Lazeer saw Attack of the Tumbleweeds in Ettlingen right after their mother went off to work. They saw the movie then, right after the credits started to roll, they and the rest of the audience got up to leave. He stopped to clean the undersides of his shoes after they left the room that the movie was shown in; a trip to a convenience store, that had a sign in the parking lot that said something about low-cost hot coffee and cocoa, was made. He and his brother had gotten a coffee then they left the store. Lazeer had used a spell to steal four pastries; they ate the pastries while sitting on a concrete fence. Something pricked his hand with such force about a minute or so later that caused him to throw the pastry that he just grabbed. Lazeer jumped from the concrete fence; he was going to his side when he stopped and then turned to face...

"Losal! The Goblins were there... They did something to make me become incapacitated. I told Lazeer to teleport us home. Instead of teleporting the both of us home, he must of only sent me home." his knees shook with this recollection. He came close to collapsing; if all of what he remembered was true, and if what his mother had said was true, then something must of happened to Lazeer.

The front door opened. Guyunis came in. His entrance validated what he dreaded—that everyone, except his youngest brother, was at home. That something had happened to his brother and that, somehow, the Goblins were connected to whatever that something was. What had the Goblins done to Lazeer? Had they beaten him up? Had a fight happened; was his brother able to get away or was he captured? He was just reaching for his communicator when a yell from his mother brought him back to reality—he was on the phone; one of his brother's was missing; and he had predicament to figure out and take care of.

"R-right here, mom." Lhaklar sputtered only once before gaining control of himself. "Sorry, right after you said something about hearing a male voice calling out to you, I remembered that Lazeer went upstairs for a nap soon after we returned home from the movies."

"You're all at home?" his mother asked him.

"Yes ma'am—Guyunis just now came in." Lhaklar replied. He started towards the stairs. Bile gave him a suspicious look as he exited the living room.

"Hazaar?"

"He also just got home."

"Bile?"

"In the living room—he's mad 'cause I scarfed the phone from him."

"Very rude of you, Lhakie." his mother said. "Can you check on Lazeer for me? The voice that I'm hearing does sound like his."

He tripped in going up the stairs twice; when he reached the second floor of the house, he wasted no time in going to Hazaar's room. He placed the phone down by Hazaar's open bedroom door then went into Hazaar's room. He said the spell that'd make his and Hazaar's conversation not be heard then he started hustling Hazaar into playing an act for their mother. Hazaar, at first, said no. He quickly changed his tone after he waved his fist in his face then threatened to turn him in for his "shenanigans" with the vacuum. With his brother agreeing to help him, he left the room. He grabbed the phone then went back into the room; Hazaar had since dropped down to his bed. He was fake-sleeping and dreaming. The cries and calls that were coming from him sounded pitiful; he didn't sound like Lazeer at all. With no time available to correct his brother's ruse, he hoped that their mother believed the hoax that was being played out for her.

"No...mom...mommy... no, tumble... run, tumble, ma." Hazaar was saying in his put-on act.

"This is the most pitiful thing I've ever seen, mom! He's practically ruined his bed!" he laughed a put-on, but perfectly natural, laugh.

"Bless his little heart, that movie must of been scary." his mother said. "Wake him. Tell him to calm down for me."

"Sure," Hazaar practically stopped the act right then and there. He gave him the I-Don't-Trust-You look then got up from the bed. "The movie wasn't _that_ scary, mom. Lazeer's just being a scaredy-baby."

"While it might not of been "that" scary for you it might of been plenty scary for your brother. Remember, Lazeer is your younger brother—he won't be as "tough" as you for a while longer." his mother said back. "Well, the calls have stopped so that must of been what was going on. You and Bile keep the house well for me—don't let me come home to see a pig-pen now."

"We will and you won't. The house'll be in one piece when you get home." he said.

"I'm holding you and Bile to that, now." his mother said. She then hung up.

"What the hell was all that about?" Bile demanded after he pressed the END-button that was on the handset.

They were all looking at him. Bile and Guyunis had practically followed him up to the house's second level; they had seen the act that Hazaar had pulled to convince their mother that Lazeer was both in the house and calling out to her in a dream-state and they had probably seen him threaten Hazaar too. He didn't really care if they saw him wave his fist at Hazaar or not; at the moment, all he cared about was finding where Lazeer was, what Lazeer was doing, how Lazeer was, and, of course, getting Lazeer to both stop calling out to their mother and come home.

He pushed past his brothers. He went down to the dining room then yanked his communicator out of his pocket. One look told him that it was still charged; he could use it but for however long he didn't know. His communicator seemed to have a mind of its own, at times. He could use it once and it'd lose its charge. He could use it for a good, lengthy time without it losing its charge. The thing would sometimes go dead after he pulled it from the wall outlet. The idea of asking his mother for a new communicator had crossed his mind once or twice over the years; his communicator was pretty old. It was nearly a hundred years old. It was the oldest and longest kept and used communicator in his family. He guessed that this was the reason for why he had yet to ask for a new one; sometimes, it was hard to let go of the old things in one's life.

Bile, Guyunis, and Hazaar had followed him down to the dining room; he looked at them before pressing the button that was on the side of his communicator.

"Lazeer?" he said into the device after taking a shaky breath. "Lazeer, it's Lhaklar, pick up. We need to talk."

"Excuse me," Bile said as he pushed past Hazaar and then Guyunis. "I think that one of my younger brothers has some explaining to do and I think that another of my younger brothers may be in trouble."

"Lazeer?" he said right when Bile reached his elbow. "Lazeer, if you're available to speak I need to talk with you and now. It's urgent."

"As we wait for him to answer your calls, why don't you tell us what's going on." Bile said.

Either his calls had reached their destination or his brother was awake and was trying to get him to shut up and stop contacting their mother; in a way, he wanted to shut his communicator off. After all of what he went through in the last two hours, he didn't want a know-in-all brother who thought he was the boss of everything that went on either in or outside of their house to help him. He wanted his mother; someone who he knew would get down, dirty, and nasty on the people who had tormented him over the last two hours and someone who he knew would give him the comfort that he wanted to have.

He was given fifteen minutes of alone time before the room's door started its near-constant revolving; they came in either to "check-up" on him or to "regain" the trust that he really didn't have in them. The first few times, he just went to the room's adjacent bathroom; on another occasion, he hid under the bed. The rest of the times that they came in, he wasn't allowed to play the run and then hide routine.

His father was his constant visitor; he brought him a lunch that he hadn't touched, then he brought him a snack that, again, he hadn't touched, then he brought him some weird music that he refused to listen to, then he started getting a bit harsh. The chiding and punishment promises had started coming out about thirty minutes ago; they were really not being taken seriously on his end. His grandfather, Uncle Efagti, and Uncle Amadh were his other constant visitors; they were doing the same exact things that his father was doing. He did believe that he wore his grandfather's seemingly patient side down; a swat on the rear happened after he cursed and then spat at the man. Uncle Efagti and Amadh left soon after he started giving them the cold shoulder; he knew that they weren't pleased with his attitude.

His grandmother had paid him a few visits—to either say hello or to see how he was doing. He guessed that she was using the maternal side of her brain to figure out how he was; she kept her visits short and she didn't bug him much on his eye. Two Goblins, one named Homsi Modulavich, and the other some man named Kalach Speelin, had come in on at least two occasions to do a simple check after he remained so quiet for so long.

The only one that he hadn't seen since his two-hours of being in the ship was his sister. His father claimed that she did want to see him but that, until he shaped up some, they wouldn't be seeing one another for a while longer. In his mind, he was A-okay with that. He didn't want to see her anyways.

"It's not like I did what I did to hurt you intentionally, son." his father said on his last visit. "Your wound was infected. The infection needed to be drained so it could heal properly. The pint-up fluid also needed to be released so your face could go back to its original size."

His father had said on his last visit that his mother would of done the exact same thing as he in regards to his facial injury. He knew that that was a load of crap. His mother would not of touched him with a scalpel. She would not of cut him or "tied him up" to tend his injuries. She'd use her Healing abilities on him then she'd send him on his way then, if whatever was ailing him got worse or needed to be tended again, she'd call for him to return to her for treatment. She might, from time to time, torture him in a play-like matter but she'd never really torture him to treat some injury that he had on his body.

All this in-and-out stuff wouldn't be happening if his mother was around. She would of kept any and all activity around him down. His brothers would of been told to leave him alone; she'd leave him alone; he'd be allowed to rest up and re-coup from the ordeal that he went through. From what he could tell, his father was the exact opposite of his mother.

"Staying here isn't healthy for him, Tazzy." his grandmother said to his father about fifteen or so minutes ago. They were right outside the door to the room that he was in; by use of his Telepathic abilities, he was able to tune-in to what they were saying. "Why don't you send him home, or have me and Cheshire take him to our place. He'll be cared for, watched, and safe."

"Is he not all of them things here?" his father asked.

"Remember what happened with Lhaklar? After he woke up from being knocked out cold—to put it lightly—he got loose. He escaped the ship; he's still out there, somewhere." his grandmother said.

"I remember all too well how he escaped the ship." his father replied. His father did nothing but stand in place for a while before saying anything more. "Give me thirty minutes; if he doesn't come around by then I'll have him sent home."

His calls to his mother hadn't only increased, they became more urgent too. He couldn't believe what he heard; there was no way in hell that he'd let anyone separate or take him from his mother or brothers. While he and his brothers fought, and were cold towards one another from time to time, he couldn't see himself living without them and there was no way in the Universe that he'd continue living without his mother. His mother was his everything. While he was concerned about how Lhaklar was faring he didn't really want to talk to him; from the way things sounded, it looked like he had a choice to make—keep calling out to his mother or answer his brother's call.

While he made up his mind on what he was going to do, he gave the room that he was in a good looking-over. The first thing that the eye that didn't have a cup over it, and that wasn't covered up by bandaging, landed on was his hoodie; the garment was snatched by one of the Goblins that came in to see how he was doing nearly forty minutes ago. The Goblin took it when he was on the can. His hoodie was missing for all of twenty minutes then, when it was returned to him, it was clean and fresh-smelling—like it was just washed and then dried. The dresser that had mirrors on its six drawers was the next thing that his one useful eye landed on; the towel that was placed on the dresser two hours ago was missing. Why one would want mirrors on the dresser drawers was beyond him; the piece of furniture was a tacky thing!

Nothing in the room made sense; the color scheme matched but the furniture didn't. Rattan chair, with a mirror-drawered dresser, and a light brown, Z-shaped framed bed? The one who did the decorating needed to either be thrown in an insane asylum or go take a course in Room Decoration. A spell was worked on the door; if blood was either dripped or smeared over the door, the door would absorb it in an instant. The walls and ceiling of the room acted the same way. The Absorber Spell was used as a means of keeping things clean and stain-free; pretty much everyone knew how hard it was to get rid of blood from things—he bet that the men and women that worked for his father were glad for that one spell being used.

"Lazeer, if you're there please pick up. You're starting to scare me!" Lhaklar's muffled voice said from his pants pocket.

"He's probably not picking up because they've done something to him! You should call ma and now!" Bile's voice, though muffled, came in both angry and clear.

"Le-k-t's go g-k-et him." Guyunis's voice also came in angry and clear. "Instead of standin' here, doing-k nothing, let's go g-k-et him. Let's kick some ass while we're there too."

"You're a real idiot you know that! You threaten and then force me to pull a front for mom so she won't know what's happened with Lazeer then you think you can just use your communicator to get in contact with Lazeer WHO MAY BE SERIOUSLY HURT OR BEING TORTURED AS WE SPEAK!" Hazaar sounded furious.

Lhaklar must of forgotten to remove his finger from the button that was on his communicator; the four waged war-like words for nearly two whole minutes before he decided to engage in conversation with them. While hearing them fight over his well-being was fun, it was also annoying; he wondered if there was any pushing going on at home, or if anyone was slugging any fists at Lhaklar. He grabbed his communicator from his left-side pants pocket then pressed the button that was on its side.

"Hello? Ya'll must be missing me pretty bad over there—from what I'm hearing, you're all fussing and fighting about me." he said. He started walking towards the bathroom that was adjacent the room that he was currently trapped in.

"Lazeer!" his brothers yelled at once.

"Hugs are welcome but keep your kisses to yourselves." he responded.

"Where are you?" Lhaklar asked.

"Where else—in dad's ship."

"What's your status? Has he hurt you any?"

"The bastard did a number on my face." he said back.

"He what?"

"He used a scalpel to cut the side of my face that has the gash on it open a little over an hour ago. Our grandfather and two of our uncles held me down while he did so."

"Kusotare!" Lhaklar cursed in Japanese. His brother cursed in Japanese for all of two minutes before cooling down.

"Hey, uh, your Japanese is pretty good. Make a disc of what you just said then mail it to each household. Charge five euros afterwards—the adult members of each household will be tickled pink by your fabulously chosen and spoken words."

"Shut up ya snot-nosed freak." Lhaklar said back.

"Glad to see that I cheered ya up."

"Lazeer,"

"Yeah?"

"Bunker down; don't move from where you're at. I'm coming for you, do you hear me? I am coming for you so be ready to be fast when I get there." Lhaklar said. Nothing but static was heard next. He figured that his brother had shut his communicator off.

Since no one knew of his sons' little talk, no one was ready or prepared for what was to happen in the next thirty minutes; he would of surely had staff placed at every corner if he knew that Lhaklar was on his way over to play merry old rescue-little-brother. While he didn't like the idea of tricking any of his boys into thinking that there were no consequences involved in the action of appearing or going anywhere without a verbal warning given beforehand, he would of played his son's plan in infiltrating his ship to perfection. He'd let Lhaklar get to his brother, he'd let Lhaklar speak and then escort Lazeer a short distance, then he'd give the signal for the both of them to be captured and then taken back to the room that they left only minutes before.

Since none of them knew of the conversation that Lhaklar and Lazeer had, or of Lhaklar's impending arrival, no one got ready or was ready for what was to happen thirty minutes from now. They went by their business as if the conversation that happened between Lhaklar and Lazeer had never happened.

He was currently, particularly busy in answering the many text messages that he received soon after Lazeer was captured. Everyone knew that his son was in his ship, everyone wanted to know specific things about Lazeer, and everyone wanted to see Lazeer. He was doing his best to read through each text; he'd read the texts that came from one select individual in order from the time that they were sent then he'd send one message back.

His brother had sent nine messages; his father had sent five; his grandfather had sent six; Trobrencus had sent four; Irka had sent three... even Cyla had jumped in on the text message band-wagon. A total of five texts from her were received. So far, he had only answered Kuruk's, his father's, and his grandfather's messages; his responses were short but to the point. Yes, Lazeer was in his ship. Yes, Lazeer had come in injured. Yes, he had treated his facial injuries. No, no trips to his ship's medical chamber were arranged and no, no full-on physical examinations were done to see if his son was underweight or if he had any other injuries on his body. No, no one was allowed to come over to see his son. His son needed time to himself—time to get himself together and time to cool down from having the wound to the left side of his face treated.

At the moment, of the three people that he sent responding messages to, only one—his father—had messaged him back. He was reading that message now; the chill that ran down his spine told him that the message's contents were not good and that he was probably about to look at another of his father's cold-sent texts.

"The length of your follow-up text is just as damning as your lack of concern, which is very imminent in the text that you sent out, Tazir. That concerns me. No medical check-up was done? No question-and-answer session was mentioned, which makes me believe that one was never done. You just mentioned something about an injury of some sort that you treated; you said nothing on what that injury was or of what severity it was. The sentence that you used saying that no one is to see Lazeer until he has calmed down is the most damning part of your text. I suppose you've done nothing more than treat whatever injury he had on him. You just threw him into a room then left him to his own devices? That's sickening and concerning. I, along with everyone else, need and want and deserve answers as to what's going on with Lazeer. Adult-up and parent-up will you; the boy can rest after you've done a decent question-and-answer session with him."

He read the text then placed his phone down on the table that he was seated at. The phone was slid across the table a second later. His mother picked it up; she read what was sent to him. His stepfather read the text from over her shoulder. It didn't take them long to sigh and then shake their heads.

"He sure makes a point in showing how much of an asshole he is, don't he?" Cheshire said after reading the text.

"I wish you'd drop him from your life, Tazzy. The man's no good." Ashaklar said as she gave the phone over to Qeeta. Efagti and Amadh looked over her shoulder as she read the message that was on his phone. "All he does is look for trouble. He's too strict and he just wants to control everyone and everything."

"Everyone and everything that has a penis." TazirVile said correctively. "Think the non-penis carriers are allowed to do as they wish."

"You and I both know that is a lie, Tazzy. The man wants everyone to bow to him. His foul attitude shows up when someone strays from his command or does something that he views as inappropriate." Ashaklar said. "His foul attitude and his temper, both."

"Eshal, me, and mom can't answer any of the phones in your ship without having him climb all over our backs." QeetaVile said. She slid the phone across the table. He slid it closer to him then sat still. "Dad practically shouted at Eshal the other day after she picked the phone up and then said hello to whoever it was that was calling."

"Which was he—Eshal's afraid to pick any sort of phone up now." TazirVile said, joining in on the conversation. "He's gotten on my staff whenever they answer any sort of phone that's ringing too. Can't tell you how many of my maids despise him."

"Don't need to say anything on the "despising" part," Cheshire said. "I neither work nor am of blood relation to you yet even _I_ despise him."

Ashaklar gave her husband's right knee a tap. He responded by taking the hand that she used to tap him with in his own. The man placed her hand on the inside of his right leg gently; this move wasn't something that her husband had started doing overnight—whenever she went to cool him down, he'd respond by taking and then placing the hand that she used to tap him with on the inside of the leg that was tapped. He started doing this very early on in their marriage. She didn't mind the move; it told her that she was there, that she wasn't just air, and it also told her that her current husband was far different that her previous one.

She was proud of Cheshire for speaking out against Duru. He stood up for himself and, in turn, had also stood up for her. Duru's remarks on Cheshire's penis were totally out of context and they weren't called for; while she took a step back to allow the two men to dook it out some, it had still taken a lot of restraint on her part to not say something concerning the matter of what they were waging a verbal war on.

Duru had never been a pleasant lover. Even during their first sex together, he was rough; she was a virgin on their first coupling—even though she knew then that the first time was unpleasant, she didn't know how "rough" the first coupling between her and her new husband would be. The man had pretty much raped her during their first sex together; he rammed hard, and she screamed and pled for him to stop. Instead of stopping and then backing off, Duru went on. She cried, then she bled, then she cried some more; it took nearly a week for her womanly parts to stop bleeding. Each sexual encounter with the man was like that. Duru had never been gentle with her. He had always been rough and unpleasant.

She had grown fearful of Duru's bed antics right after that first sexual encounter. The first hundred years with Duru were spent with her trying her best to avoid anything sexual; after Tazir's birth, she dropped her fear. She enjoyed motherhood so much that she would of gone through a thousand pained sex acts to get pregnant again. Or, at least until Duru started abusing their son, that was. Once Duru started beating their son for his inabilities, or for things that a normal man would overlook, she stopped wanting to get pregnant by him again. She was glad to of had just two by the man and she was also glad that her second child with the man was born a girl; she wouldn't of been able to go through her husband beating and abusing two sons that she bore for him.

When she was married to Duru, he had a habit of "rattling" his penis during his rams; a small bit of her still said that the "rattling" had something to do with his size. The man had a penile length of five inches; he might of thought that the "rattling" would make him seem bigger or more impressive. Cheshire, who had a penile length of seven and a half inches, never rammed or "rattled" his penis after it was in her. Cheshire was a very confident, yet gentle and pleasant, lover in comparison to Duru and, like he said to Duru five days ago, his penis did have a bulbous cap to it that did drive her "up a wall and back". Besides being kept happy in bed, Cheshire had also kept her happy in life; he had never spoken down on her, he had never hurt her physically, and he had never hurt any of their children or grandchildren. Cheshire Ubalki was just an overall better man and husband than Duru; she was glad to of met, dated, and then married him.

"You going to respond?" Amadh asked.

"No, not by text." TazirVile said. He stood up from the table. "Think I'll mosey on over to his camp then have it out with him. I'm a father, I'm not a detective or an interrogator."

A flying insect pestered him after he left his ship a few minutes later. He waved his hand at the insect when it buzzed around his head before going down his ship's ramp; since he had a lot on his mind, he never took into consideration that it was much too cold for insects to be flying around. It was in the twenties in his area; insects were all well-bunkered down until warmer weather set in. He also didn't take into consideration the insect's color; except for the transparent wings, the insect was a mint-green color, which was either unheard of or abnormal. If an insect was green, it was just green; not mint-green or any of the other forms of green that were listed in the color charts.

The thought that the mint-green colored insect was his oldest son never occurred to him. He went on to his father's camp without stopping to wonder about the insect that he just warded off; the insect buzzed around his ship's airlock hatchway doors for a second then, after the doors opened, and one of his staff exited for some fresh air, it flew on in. Like him, the maid that exited his ship never considered the fact about the insect flying about in twenty-something degree weather. The maid walked down his ship's ramp while the insect buzzed down the hallway that came off the airlock hatchway doors. The insect went down two more hallways before going into a bathroom that was only appropriate for one user.

An energized breeze came out of the bathroom that no one noticed; the green glow, that could be seem from the under the door, was also unnoticed. The energized breeze and green glow continued to happen for all of two minutes before dying down. Lhaklar shook his head after his insect-guise was downed; after his head was clear, he did a quick look around the small space that he was in before lying his hand flat against the door that was in front of him.

"Instead of turning into a bug, I should of turned into a small, Bee hummingbird. Done some head-pecking on the old man to pay him back for kidnapping Lazeer." he thought before quieting his mind.

He used a form of his Telepathy to see where his brother was. He was taught while at the University of Telepathy that it wasn't just sentient beings that carried or harbored memories; in-animate objects could also harbor memories—such as what happened in a certain room between two or more persons, where a certain someone went, what piece of furniture use to be where before being moved, etc. Even though he had used this form of Telepathy only a handful of times he was pretty good at it so he knew what to tune into and he also knew what to be on the look-out for. If a headache was experienced, or if the signs of a headache started being felt, he was to stop using his Telepathy at once; he could damage the part of his brain that enabled him to do Telepathy if he continued to use the talent after a headache started being felt.

He learned all that he needed to know in just two minutes time; there were just two hallways that he needed to go down—a long one and a short one—then he'd need to make a left turn. The room that Lazeer was in was the second one on the left. There were approximately fifteen Goblins between he and Lazeer. Since he used up a lot of energy in getting to the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve, he couldn't just use his Transformative skills to get past them. He had enough juice left in him for maybe two minutes if the form that he chose to change into was small. That wasn't long enough to get to the room that his brother was in.

In order for him to be able to use his Transformative skills again for a lengthy period of time he'd have to wait at least fifteen or so minutes. That, he viewed, was too long. So much could happen in that time period. Lazeer could be removed from the ship. Lazeer could be hurt. Someone might try weaseling some answers from him on where the family was...

Since he couldn't use his Transformative skills to get to the room that his brother was in, he looked for the room that had his father's signature in it the most. It took him nearly five seconds to find the room. It was five hallways from him; he'd have to go down three short hallways, then two long ones, before finding himself on the hallway that the room was on. Since time was of the essence, he quickly changed back into the insect that he transformed into after leaving home; he flew from the bathroom then he flew down three of the five hallways as fast as he could. He very nearly didn't make it to the room; his mother had taught him that the smaller forms used the most energy and, since he transformed into a small, winged insect, he was using a lot of energy. If he had changed into a larger form, like a horse or a dragon or a Giraffe, he'd of been able to remain in that form for up to an hour. He had picked the form of an insect so not to be seen and, so far, that choice was paying off.

He flew down the last of the long hallways then he went by two of the six doors that were on the hallway that came off the hallway that he just flew down. When he reached the door, that went to the room, that his father's signature was left in the most, he quickly flew under the door. He lost his Dragonfly-form right then and there.

"Breathe, dammit!" he thought. He flattened himself against the back of the door. His chest heaved up and down for nearly a minute before returning to its normal rhythm.

The room that he was in was very elegantly decorated. He doubted if his father had a hand in its decoration.

A bed, that had a contemporary wood frame, was directly across from him. The headboard of the bed's frame was right up against the wall; there was no baseboard to the frame. Except for the multiple pillows, which were a mixture of cream and brown, black and gold, and cream and white, the bed had a chocolate brown set on it. Each of the pillows that were on the bed had a gold T and S stitched onto their surfaces. A chocolate brown table was to the left of the bed; it had a slick, black digital alarm clock and a lamp that looked like a piece of melted chocolate on its surface. A 50" big screen tv was mounted on the wall that was across from the bed; a chocolate brown, six-drawered dresser sat under the big screen tv. The carpet in the room was dark brown; the walls and ceiling were a lighter brown. In contrast to the purple-carpeted hallways that he just flew down, the room had a right dark feel to it.

A dome-light was in the center of the room's ceiling; when he flicked the switch on, the room was showered in a golden glow. He quickly flipped the switch to the OFF-position after seeing what the room looked like lit up. In the time that the light was on, he had noticed the old chest that was at the foot of the bed and the floor lamp, that had a chocolate brown base and stand, that was to his immediate left, and the oval standing mirror that was beside the dresser; except for a few photographs of Eshal, of him and his brothers, and of his mother, there was nothing on the dresser's surface. He came close to slapping the pictures of his mother and of him and his brothers from the dresser after moving from the door; in his mind, the man that resided in this room during the night hours was far from being a fatherly figure. Besides the man manhandling Hazaar in late-October, he also broke his arm in late-December. The kidnapping of Lazeer was a nice dollop of whipped cream on top of all that uncalled for bullshit.

"Gonna need a serious shower after this one." he said aloud.

He looked at himself in the mirror. For pretty much all of his life he had been compared to his father; most everyone in his family had called him Junior something or another. While he wasn't fond of being called Junior of anything he couldn't deny the fact that he _did_ look strikingly similar to his father. If not for his pistachio-colored eyes and mint-green skin, he'd be a perfect replica of his father. Since he couldn't use his Transformative skills to get to Lazeer he might as well see about playing the old Trick-r-Oooo on everyone.

He started searching the dresser's drawers. He took out a pair of brown striped pants, a pair of brown socks, a light brown vest that had either real gold or imitation gold buttons on the front, and a cream-colored shirt that had belled cuffs on the ends of the long sleeves. After doing nothing more than standing in place, holding and examining the clothes that he just took from the dresser, he went to the bathroom that was adjacent the room. He removed the clothing that he was wearing then he sent them home via a spell; he donned the clothing that he took from the dresser quickly then left the bathroom. He started searching for a belt, a pair of shoes, and a jacket that'd match the outfit that he was wearing. He found all of that in the room's closet. He slid the shoes—which he found were nearly two sizes too big for him rather quickly—, then he slid the jacket around himself, then he grabbed one of the many belts that were hanging from the closet's one rod. He was just placing the belt around himself when he walked up to the mirror.

"Uh, think everyone needs to re-think their "Junior" shit. I look like a freak!" he said in a loud whisper.

He looked swallowed-up in the clothing that he was wearing. Everything was baggy/saggy on him. His frame, while catchy to the ladies on Earth, was much too narrow to match his father's. He came close to saying _fuck it, I'll chance it on going to get Lazeer looking like plain, old, normal Lhaklar_ then, after giving his reflection a good scrutinizing, decided to give his Transformative skills a try. What could hurt? If he didn't have enough energy to keep the guise going, he'd lose the form before even stepping foot out the room.

All it took was two minutes; he transformed into a wild, but very accurate, mint-green version of his father then nodded his head. He went back to the bathroom after changing his appearance; a trip to his mother's bedroom was made right before he left the house. The makeup compact, that had more than enough blue makeup in it, was taken from his mother's top dresser drawer, then the tube of blue-colored lipstick was taken from her bedside table's one drawer; while his mother very rarely wore makeup, it was extremely rare for her to use the color blue in her makeup compacts. He hated himself for doing what he was about to do; the compact and lipstick tube were on the side of the sink basin... They were ready for him to use. The two items were nestled safely in his sewn-in, inside shirt pocket; he took them out of the pocket before sending his clothing back home.

"The things I do for family," he thought as he opened the compact. He took and then dabbed the kit's pad in the light blue makeup square; after taking a breath in, he started smoothing the pad over the hand that he wasn't using.

The makeup had a greasy feeling to it and it took the entire square to change the color of his hands and face from mint-green to light blue. He couldn't do a thing about his eyes; either he'd have to be ingeniutive in hiding them or he'd have to keep himself from locking eyes with anyone that he came in contact with. The gash that was on the side of his head was another give-away to his not being his father; the makeup had made the scabbed-over part of his gash go from being dark green to dark blue. He said a spell that sent the compact home then he grabbed the lipstick tube; he came close to puking when the lipstick touched his lips. With a lot of effort, he kept the vomit in. He made his lips go from being mint-green to a little darker version of light blue before sending the lipstick tube home. With his appearance altered to look light blue instead of mint-green done, he started in on trying to sound like his father—no one needed to tell him that his father's voice was deeper and older-sounding than his; if he was to rescue his brother while being disguised as their father, he thought that he might as well sound like his father too.

"I'll be needing a good, stiff one after this is done and over with." he said in a voice that didn't resemble his father's at all.

He cleared his throat then tried again. His next three attempts in sounding like his father didn't go too well; he sounded more like a goose that needed to be put out of its misery than his father on them three attempts. He sounded like someone having a bad orgasm on the next two attempts then he sounded like a moose that had a bad case of head-cold on the next. He got the voice that he was striving for on the next attempt; with his guise and voice all set to go, he left the bathroom. He went to the bedroom door then, after taking a deep breath in, let himself out. He crossed and then hugged the hallway's right-side wall after leaving the room; he went along on his way tensely before loosening up after after realizing how unconvincing he looked.

The first test of his guise came not a second later. He rounded a corner then stopped short after one of his father's staff said hello to him. While he spoke to the Goblin—a maid who went by the name of Attaec Ioniff—, he kept himself from looking her square in the eye; either the Goblin didn't put much interest in on his attempts to keep from giving her eye contact during their short talk or she never noticed that he was avoiding eye contact with her. They spoke for only ten seconds then went on their ways. He breathed a sigh of relief after that first test was done. He became a bit more confident after four more short conversations were held with four other members of his father's staff then, like a cruel slap to the face, that confidence was zapped right from him.

His confidence left him after he started down the hallway that the room that his brother was in was on. A Goblin that knew his father pretty well had come out of the room that his brother was in; he was now coming straight for him. He felt a trickle of sweat roll down his back. Swallowing hard, trying his best to not crack under the pressure that he was currently in, he walked towards the man that was coming towards him.

"Master Tazir, I thought you left for your father's camp minutes ago?" the Goblin, Homsi Modulavich, said after reaching him.

"Decided to stick around a little longer," he said, the voice that came out of him sounded very much like his father's. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself for pulling his ruse for so long. "Is Lazeer alright? Was heading over to see him."

"Seems to be, sir. He's a bit mouthy and he still refuses to eat." Homsi said.

"That'll be changing soon. I have something for him that I think he won't be able to resist." he said back.

"Hope so, sir. I worry about him—personal opinion, sir, hope you don't mind my saying that he looks a tad underweight. His arms are thinner than they use to be."

Now, he knew that that was a bone-face lie. Lazeer was in no way, shape, or form underweight and his arms had definitely not lost any size. Where the Goblin had come by thinking that his brother had lost weight was beyond him; his brother was as healthy as an Ox. Lazeer still weighed a hundred and eighty-one pounds; he worked out when he could, he ate everything that was put in front of him, and he had a good, healthy sleeping schedule. The only thing that Lazeer did that was unhealthy was smoke; he couldn't say anything against his brother smoking—he smoked too.

He and Homsi said a few more words before he excused himself. He went down the hall then he stepped right up to the door that went to the room that his brother was in. There were two Goblins stationed in front of the door; he acknowledged them then went into the room. If he knew that one of the two stationed Goblins had noticed the dark blue "anomaly" that was on the right side of his head, he would of hurried his game along. Since he didn't know about one of the Goblins noticing his masked, scabbed-over gash, he didn't do so; when he went into the room, he set in on playing his guise up a little more. Lazeer, like everyone else that he came upon in the last five minutes, fell for his ruse right away.

"What part of 'leave me alone' does anyone on this bloody ship not understand? I don't want to see anyone and that counts double for you!" his brother, who sported a bandage wrap around the left side of his face, said after he entered the room.

"Cool down there, Fella." he said. His father's voice rang out of him clearly. He, again, was proud of himself for being able to keep his ruse going. He felt a double pride in accord to his Transformative abilities; he was walking around for five minutes looking like his father... his father-form hadn't dropped or faltered at all in them five minutes.

"Go away!" his brother yelled. "I just sent Mr. Brown-Nose away, I can do the same with you in a heart-beat."

"A certain someone's about to get a spankin' if he don't cool it and now." he said back.

"Fuck you and the boat you came here in!"

"Watch your language, Young Man."

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck Yooooooou!" Lazeer screamed in fury.

"The old man's probably _begging_ for him to be whisked away if this is what he's been doing for two hours." he thought. And, like that, he lost it. He started laughing.

It didn't dawn on him on who it really was that was standing in the room with him for another two minutes. A chill ran down his spine when the "man" started laughing; while he didn't know much about his father, he was sure that this wasn't the way he laughed. A high-pitched, hyena-like laugh was coming from the "man" that looked like his father. The "man" now had a retarded look to him; he looked more child than man now. What spooked him the most was the fact that here he was, yelling and cursing and doing his best to get on the "man's" nerves, and there was the man that looked like his father, laughing a high-pitched, Hyena-like laugh; looking retardish and looking and acting nowhere like his father.

His father's usual responses to his yells and curses weren't happening. His father, the last few times he cursed at him, had chided him. Had gotten on him real hard. This "man" that looked like his father wasn't doing that; all he was doing was laughing his weird, retarded laugh. He backed away from the "man" then, without thinking or putting much thought into what he was doing, went towards the bathroom. Besides acting cold, and treating Homsi like a jerk, he also hid from him in the bathroom; he kinda wished that Homsi would return to the room—the "man" that took his place gave him the creeps!

His action of hiding from Homsi was done out of his not wanting Homsi near him. The urge that he felt now in wanting to hide in the bathroom was fear-based. He had only just reached the bathroom when the laughing stopped; the "man" that he left behind said nor did a thing for thirty seconds then he started walking forward, towards the bathroom that he was in. He was about to yell for help when the "man's" hand wrapped around the frame of the door; seeing the "light blue" complexion that was on the "man's" hand smear on the door frame made that yell evaporate. He had only to see the diluted green color, that was under the smeared off light blue stuff, that was on the hand, to know that the "man" wasn't his father.

He ran out of the bathroom at once. He practically bulldozed Lhaklar to the bed; when he collided with his brother, he wrapped his arms around him.

"That's better, son." his brother said in a voice that strongly resembled their father's.

"Stop it!" Lazeer nearly screamed. "Stop it before I cream you!"

"Oh now, don't do that. Might mess up my costume." Lhaklar said, using his normal voice this time.

"What's this blue shit on you? Paint?" Lazeer asked after he smeared some of the blue stuff that was on his brother's hand with his finger.

"Makeup." Lhaklar said.

"This a sign of your new interest—using mom's makeup to look "pretty" for the ladies?"

"No,"

"Or are you planning on going from being a stripper to a tranny?" Lazeer asked.

"I'm not planning on doing anything else with mom's makeup." Lhaklar said. "I plan on burning myself after this little adventure's over—you owe me big time for this."

"Would a pretty dress, heels, and jewelry be enough?" Lazeer asked.

"I'm going to clobber you if you don't shut up." Lhaklar said.

Lhaklar hushed them up after realizing their mistake. There were two men stationed outside the door. Both he and his brother weren't speaking in low-voices or in whispers; the men that were stationed outside the door had probably heard every word of what they had said. He hoped that they perceived their loudness in a fight-like way; he didn't know how much longer his "father"-form would last and he didn't know if he could fight his and his brother's way out of the ship. There were a lot of people on-board; a lot of Goblins who, he bet, would love to have a fight with someone who was impersonating their employer, not to mention family who would probably also enjoy giving one that was impersonating one of their own a new asshole.

Part one of getting Lazeer out of their father's ship was done. Half of the hard work was done, now it was time for the rest of the work to be done.

"Okay," Lhaklar said in a low whisper. "I want you to stick by my side. I'm leaving the room, you're to stick by my side."

"Bet that'll raise some hairs with them Goblins by the door." Lazeer replied. "They won't let us past; they'll know that something's up in nothing flat."

"Not if you do as I say." Lhaklar said, he automatically adopted his father's voice. "If they ask anything, I'll just say that I'm taking you to a different room that's away from the main entrance/exit. I'll open-neck-pinch them if they ask any further questions."

"Yeah, then we dress up as the Easter Bunny and then play hopscotch, right? We'll never get past them guys; you'll be grabbed before you can dish out your open-neck-pinch." Lazeer said, crestfalleningly.

"Lazeer," Lhaklar said.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"One of these days I'm going to start making a list of how many times a day you tell me to shut up." Lazeer said.

"Hey, uh, how're them girls at the local high school? There's a little rumor that I keep hearing; it's about a certain brother of mine who's said to be a frequent visitor of the girls' locker room at Rheinwaldschule." Lhaklar said back. Lazeer's periwinkle-blue face went a degree darker as he blushed.

He barely remembered grabbing his hoodie, his goggled glass, his and his brother's exit of the room, or their encounter with the two Goblins that were guarding the door. All he could think about was how his brother knew about his and his friends' sneaking into the ladies locker room at Rheinwaldschule; his three friends, Eli Mendelsohn and Kiefer and Killian Kassmeyer, had shown him the little "opening" that came off the school one day about a month and a half ago and they had also shown him where that "opening" went. He and his friends had made a habit out of paying the "opening" a visit twice a week; while the back of the locker room, where all the pipes were, was cold, neither of them paid much attention to the chill. They were too busy immersed in seeing the 10th, 11th, and 12th grade girls undress and shower.

Hazaar wouldn't of told; he sometimes joined him and his friends in looking at the girls in the locker room. Guyunis had joined him and his friends for a few look-ins at the girls; he doubted in Guyunis had said anything—his older, adoptive brother wasn't a tattle-tale. As far as he knew, Bile didn't know a thing about his and his friends' little adventurous look-ins. Maybe Lhaklar had caught one of his friends talking about their girls locker room look-ins or something. Now that he knew that Lhaklar knew about one of his out-of-the house activities he'd have to be careful. Lhaklar might just use his little girls locker room look-ins against him.

"Tazir?" he snapped-to after hearing the feminine voice then he quickly noticed that he and his brother had gone quite a ways from the room that they were in.

"Hello, Qeeta." his brother said. His skin automatically started crawling; Lhaklar _still_ sounded so much like their father. It creeped him out a little.

"Letting him stretch his legs some? Wasn't expecting for you to have him out of the room that he was put in so soon." Qeeta, their aunt, said.

"We had a good, long talk. He's calmed down some. Figured that it was time to give him a little tour of the shi-k-p." Lhaklar said. Lazeer cringed; the voice that his brother had used had cracked at the very end of his sentence.

"You feeling alright, Tazzy?" Qeeta asked. "I heard a crack in your voice; that usually never happens with you unless you're having "a moment"."

"A moment—what, you still cry at night, dad?" Lazeer asked, trying to grab his aunt's attention.

"Lazeer!" Qeeta exclaimed, taking the bait quickly.

"Don't mind him—he's the comical one of my boys, remember? Always likes to spur a joke, or be obnoxious." Lhaklar said quickly, this time without his imitation-voice faltering.

"He and Amadh should get along well, then. Since they both like to joke around." Qeeta said.

Qeeta and Lhaklar spoke for a minute longer then went their separate ways. Lazeer heaved a collective sigh of relief to finally be away from his aunt—having her around while his brother and he were trying to play escape did nothing to make him feel less nervous.

He and Lhaklar went down the hallway that they were on slowly before making a right turn. The hallway that they were on now was short; they went down it quickly then made a left turn. A cruel twist of fate happened after they made that turn. The airlock hatchway doors were right in front of them; about ten or so feet separated them from freedom. They were about to go towards the doors when, suddenly, a red light went off above them. A loud clicking sound was heard from the doors; the green light, that was to the right of the doors, changed to orange. He and his brother were just wondering what was going on when the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly was heard behind them. Swallowing hard, not wanting to, but finding themselves with nothing better to do, they turned around to see who was behind them.

"Don't move," Homsi Modulavich said sternly. His throatish sounding voice was heavily leaden with anger and, judging by the look of his hands, he was more than ready for a fight.

He and his brother didn't really do as the Goblin had told them to do by obedience. They were frozen in place. Their fear had caused them to seize up; the reason for this wasn't because of the Goblin but because of the man that was slowly strolling up behind the Goblin. Their father, who had left the ship prior to Lhaklar's going in to retrieve his brother, didn't look happy. Their father looked pissed and, from what they could tell, he had his eyes trained on only one of them. Lhaklar grabbed and then pulled his brother behind him; he shielded him from the one that he was imitating for the last thirty minutes. Lazeer quickly wiped the blue makeup that smeared on his jacket sleeve off then poked his head out from behind his brother. One look was enough to make him hide again.

"Lazeer," he heard his father, his real father, say. "Come out from behind that man, son."

"Do something, Lhaklar!" Lazeer groaned. "Please, teleport us home or something."

"I-I can't." Lhaklar said in a small voice. "I just tried to teleport us out of here. We're trapped!"

"Lazeer!" their father said, a lot louder this time. "Come here. Now!"

"I don't think so." Lhaklar said. He was still using their father's voice.

"Lazeer!"

"He's not going anywhere with you." Lhaklar said.

"What... are you crazy or something?" Lazeer asked. He popped most of his body out from behind his brother; his brother reacted by shoving him back to being fully behind him again. This move didn't settle well with their father, the man produced a sound akin to a growl then walked past Homsi. Many other Goblins ran up after their father was past Homsi; a semi-circle of angry-faced Goblins was formed around him, his brother, and their father in no time. "You're dressed quite nicely for your funeral, you know that?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth, Lazeer." his father, who had obviously heard him, said. "Right. Out. Of. My. Mouth."

It seemed to be one of them days where his movements were mostly dominated by instinctive feelings; he had only just reached the outskirts of his father's camp when something told him that he'd best return to his ship. He stood in place, doing nothing for nearly five minutes, before turning and then going back to camp. Attaec Ioniff had acted surprised and then confused after seeing him enter his ship; she asked him when he left the ship then a confused cloak fell over her face after he said that he was away from his ship for nearly fifteen minutes. He went on his way; he had thought nothing of Mrs. Ioniff's reaction. He was well on his way to see Lazeer when he and Homsi met up.

Like Mrs. Ioniff, Homsi's reaction in seeing him had started off with surprise, then it turned to confusion quickly. Unlike Attaec, who said nothing about seeing him—or someone who looked like him—earlier, after he left his ship, Homsi had. While Homsi's reaction and mention of seeing someone who looked like him hadn't set off any warning bells upstairs, being rebuffed and then mildly restrained by Kalach Speelin and Kohl Zolwin had. Kalach and Kohl had said something about seeing him only two minutes prior. His blood had pretty much gone cold after the two men said something about seeing someone who looked like him leaving the room that he left his son in with his son; after proving himself as being the real TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, he rushed off to his ship's security room.

The switch that controlled the airlock hatchways doors was flipped. The switch that went to the alarm system was flicked. A spell was said that'd make any and all form of teleportation in his ship become disabled. He found his son's whereabouts after all of that was done then he grabbed a stand-by radio; Homsi was alerted to the imposter that was trying to make-off with his son. While Homsi took care of telling everyone else what was going on, he was on his way to meet-up with the man that he just barely missed in stopping.

Except for two defining elements—the dark area that was on the right side of the man's head and the man's lack of goggled glasses—, the man that was in front of him looked like his twin. The body-build, the skin color, the clothing—his clothing... the man hadn't only infiltrated his ship, and tried to make off with his son, but he also stole clothing from him to enhance his trickery! He didn't know who to be more angry with; his staff for not noticing that the man wasn't him, his son for going along with the man, or himself for not putting his ship on lock-down long before now.

The first thing that he did, after seeing the man, was ask who he was. It couldn't be him; he was in his ship's security room. He couldn't be walking about his ship with his young son hugging his side while being in his ship's security room at the same time. It couldn't be Amadh; Amadh had dark blue skin and almond-shaped eyes. It couldn't be Efagti; while Efagti had oval-shaped eyes, he had dark blue skin, not light blue. It couldn't be his sister; Qeeta's build was very feminine and she had a teal-color to her skin. It wasn't his mother. It wasn't Cheshire. The man was too old to be Phaggo. Shit, he had even wondered if the youngster that was following the man wasn't Qhuakiz, his mother and stepfather's young son. Nope, Qhuakiz was a toddler; he was much too young to be Lazeer.

The man that was in front of him was unknown. An imposter who he just caught red-handed in trying to sneak his son out of his ship. The idea of the man being one of his sons playing dress-up and wearing makeup to mask the true color of his face and hands never came to fruit in his mind. An angry, black spot had formed on his brain; it was making any and all thoughts not happen.

"No one infiltrates my ship, then tries to make-off with one of my children, without being caught and then given a merry beating." he said under his breath as he ripped his tuxedo jacket, vest, and shirt off.

"Lazeer—" the man said.

"Don't you listen to a thing that man says, Lazeer!" he snapped angrily.

"Work the door. Get it open."

Lhaklar braced for it at just the right time; his father rushed at him, swung at him, then sent him flying towards the right-side wall. He fought the onslaught of fatigue as the man came at him. The man, who had a very well-muscled chest and an impressively maintained six-pack, kept him against the wall before he started fighting back. He landed four blows to his father's face and shoulders then found himself flying towards the Goblins, who were still in their semi-circle position; his father turned towards Lazeer, who was working the panel that was under the orange light away from the wall, afterwards. Seeing his father going towards Lazeer, who was working so hard to get them out of the ship, infuriated him; he got to his feet then ran forward. He jumped on his father's back then wrapped the arm that was in a splint around his neck; his father reacted by simply throwing him from him.

His form dropped after the side of his head that didn't have a gash on it collided with the wall; his father looked at him then laughed before coming at him like a Lion.

"Why must these things be so easy?" he thought after he had the panel that protected the wires and other gadgets that went to the airlock hatchway doors away from the wall. "Hang in there, Lhaklar! Only have a wire or two to—"

He was grabbed from behind; at first, he thought that it was his father, who had managed to beat his brother to a pulp, then, after turning to throw his assailant off, he saw that it was a Goblin. He threw the Goblin back at the same time that his father started landing left's and right's to his brother's already badly bleeding face. Lhaklar spat blood in their father's face then hocked his leg up. Their father was driven off by a nicely-placed kick to the inner thigh; he went back to working the sub-panel at the same time that their father turned towards him. Lhaklar grabbed their father's attention before he could take a step towards him.

A simple wire could either be pulled or re-routed to make a door, any old door, that utilized electricity, to open or close. He was looking for either a blue one, which was almost always the wire that did the trick, or a green one. A lot of the wires in the sub-panel were red; there were some gray and some black ones as well. He sifted through the wires, doing his best to hurry, but also doing his best to be careful while hurrying. When he found a green wire, he pulled it. The orange light, that was over the panel, went out; the door remained closed. Another green wire was pulled, a blue was pulled, then another green was pulled. He went through six green and four blue wires before stopping; he gave the sub-panel's innards a good look before reaching in for another try; the wire that he grabbed and then pulled was a purple one that ran to the left-side of the panel. When he pulled the wire, a beep was heard. Another beep was heard when he re-routed the wire; he re-routed an orange wire, then a red one, before grabbing and then pulling a yellow one.

The desired effect that he was hoping to get happened right after he pulled the yellow wire. The doors opened; he ran out of the ship without delay. Lhaklar practically somersaulted down the ship's ramp after he was kicked in the face by their father. Lazeer raced after his brother then, when he got to him, grabbed and then tried his best to get him to his feet. He had no more hooked his arms under his brother's armpits before being zapped back by a beam of yellow energy.

"Get away from him, son. I am your father, not this imposter." their father, who had a trail of Goblins following in his wake, said as he walked down his ship's ramp.

"Sometimes I wish he was." Lazeer mumbled as he recovered from being zapped back from his brother.

The blue makeup, that was on his brother's face and hands, was so badly smeared that his mint-green skin could be seen; the blood, that was flowing from his brother's nose, from the corners of his brother's lips, and from the long cut that was on his brother's right cheek, mingled quite messily with the smeared makeup that was on his face. One of Lhaklar's eyelids was drooping quite low too; the skin that was around Lhaklar's left eye was turning an ugly dark green color while the skin that was around his brother's right eye was oddly normal. His brother's fists were broken and bleeding; it looked like their father had done a number and a half on him and, from what he could see, he wasn't done yet.

The tell-all signs of his brother not being an imposter of their father were worn very clearly on their father's hands. Their father's hands wore the makeup that was smeared over Lhaklar's face and hands; there were light blue smudges on his chest, stomach, face, and shoulders as well. Their father's lower lip was bleeding pretty badly, a ring of medium-blue was forming around his right eye, and a small trickle of blood was falling from his right nose-hole. Medium-blue and dark blue-colored bruises were forming on the man's face, shoulders, chest, and stomach already.

"If only he'd look at his hands or it'd rain," Lazeer thought as he got to his feet.

Round Two of Lhaklar's fight with their father started right after Lhaklar got to his feet. Lhaklar was, in a big way, treated to experiencing the same thing that Guyunis went through when he fought Duru for the second time. Lazeer got caught-up in the fight that he was having with their father; he was continuously thrown out of the fight only to return seconds later. He jumped on their father's back; he swung his fists at their father; he continuously got in their father's way until, finally, their father got sick of his shenanigans. Lazeer was thrown to the side like a rubber ball at the same time that their grandparents, Ashaklar and Cheshire; their uncles, Amadh and Efagti; their aunt, Qeeta; and their sister, Eshal, came out of the ship. The six watched as Lhaklar was thrown from one side of the camp to the next by Tazir, who was now using his Telekinesis, then they watched as the two waged war with bands of either red or yellow energy. Lhaklar had just been hurled ten feel when Eshal took note of his odd coloration.

"He's got two color tones to him," Eshal thought as her father used his Telekinetic abilities to drag her older brother across the dirt.

Eshal noted the line of blue that was left in Lhaklar's wake then she noted that half of his face had gone from being light blue to a dusty, sweaty, grimy green color. She was just starting to wonder who her father was fighting when she noticed that Lazeer was nowhere in sight; she abandoned her wondering mind for a minute as she searched for him. When she found him, it suddenly dawned on her on who her father was fighting. Her jaw dropped at the same time that she swung her hand out at her father, who now had both of his hands wrapped around her younger brother's neck. The ball of blue acid that struck her father's backside caused her father to both drop her brother and turn towards her.

"Eshal!" her father yelled.

"Don't hurt him!" Eshal yelled back.

"Eshal, bad girl!" Ashaklar wagged her finger at her granddaughter.

"You know better," Cheshire said.

"Take her inside," TazirVile said. He turned back towards Lhaklar then, in quick-fashion, started kicking him in the ribs, legs, and arms. Lhaklar screamed after his left arm was broken again.

"No! Let me go! Let me go, that's Lhaklar! He's fighting Lhaklar!" Eshal screamed after her grandfather started taking her back to the ship.

Ashaklar's head snapped in the direction of her son and his opponent. She examined the man with her eyes as best she could; while she didn't want to believe what she just heard from Eshal, she couldn't deny the fact that the man that her oldest son was fighting was a weird one. Most of his face was bloody; when he wiped his face with the sleeve of her son's shirt, she noticed that there was a heavy green color to his face. She looked at his eyes; they looked green from where she was. When a shower of sparks rang out from the man's body, she saw that there was a silverish quality in his green-colored eyes. The man had bluish colored blood; very unlike a Zetakin, who had greenish-blue colored blood. She had just taken note of how baggy her son's clothes were on the man when Eshal broke lose from her husband. Eshal ran past them. She went down the ramp with them trailing behind her; when she reached her father, she wasted not a second in giving him a firm shove from behind. She had just given her father the shove forward when a large explosion happened between them. They flew off in separate directions at once; when she landed, she lost most of her air. Her father quickly got to his feet after he landed; his eyes flashed in Eshal's direction then they flashed towards his opponent. He was gearing up to use his Telekinetic powers when he saw movement to his far right. He turned his head in the direction that he saw the movement come from then his jaw dropped; his knees came close to buckling underneath him as Bile, with Lazeer following, practically clipping his heels, walked up to the man that he was fighting with.

"Is that—" his mother choked.

"That isn't—" the words seemingly died on Cheshire's tongue as he watched Bile grab and then wipe the face of the man that Tazir had just been warring with. Cheshire, like everyone else in TazirVile's camp, gasped after seeing the broken and bruised, mint-green face that was unveiled for them.

"S-aye! I t-owl-d y-you!" Eshal said as she gasped for air.

"Lhaklar?" TazirVile said.

Bile, who had simply been hiding in the shadows the entire time, watching his brother got the living shit beat out of him, grabbed Lhaklar by the shoulder. He heaved his ailing brother, who had nothing more to give, to his feet then he grabbed Lazeer by the arm. He stared at the man who had raised him for six hundred years angrily then teleported out of the area.

TazirVile looked down at his hands after his adopted son, the oldest of his biological sons, and his youngest son left the area. He rubbed the light blue makeup, that was smeared all over his right hand, off with his left then he held his hand up to his face. It took him just two seconds to figure out what had happened in his ship and camp; when the realization of who he was fighting struck him, he did the only thing that he could think of to do. He dropped to his knees then grabbed his stomach; he suddenly felt very drained of energy. He did what he thought was the most appropriate thing to do next; all of what he ate that morning and afternoon was purged in one, violent action as he chided himself for not checking his opponent out fully.


	46. Chapter 46

Lazeer's birthday went off without a hitch despite all of what happened sixteen days ago, on the first of the month. Their youngest brother turned one thousand, six hundred, and two years old on the thirteenth of February; he didn't let any of them forget about HIS day and, despite the left side of his face looking worse than ever, he didn't let anything hold him down or get to him on his "special day".

Their mother practically laid a spread of nothing but pancakes in front of the little twerp on the morning of his birthday; he ate a stack of around four or so pancakes then he ate two or three pieces of bacon before leaving the house to spend some time with his friends. He found them waiting for him when he returned.

A rather large, oreo cheesecake, with sprinkles added in to give it a more Birthday feeling, was made for him; they sang Happy Birthday before diving in then, not one second after their first slice was devoured, the presents were given out. One of their mother's co-workers had owned one of them bug-making ovens that kids under the age of sixteen used; her co-worker, who had two kids of his own, who had obviously lost interest in the thing, was talking about selling or throwing it out. Instead of throwing the oven out, he sold it to their mother for €40. All of the accessories had come with the bug-oven—about thirty or so molds, around fifty bug-making color goop containers, the plastic spatula and chisel, and, of course, the oven. Lazeer had put the thing to use right away; two beetles, a centipede-like thing, a walking stick, and a praying mantis were made soon after it was given to him.

A realistic, remote control Tarantula was given to the twerp next—he found the thing at the Au am Rhein dump on the sixth of February; after some thought, he decided to take it home, clean it up, then keep it hidden until his brother's birthday. He hadn't had any ideas on what to get his brother for his birthday up to his finding the remote controlled Arachnid; Lazeer had set his sights on scaring their mother half to death with the thing after deciding to give his bug-maker a break.

It hadn't surprised any of them to see Lazeer getting some music next; Lhaklar had gotten the twerp two discs of remix tunes and four discs of nothing but reggae. Guyunis had given the twerp five books—Frogs and Toads of the Word by Terry J. Hodgins; In Search of Lost Frogs by Lewis Searson; Top Weirdest Frogs by Rhonda and Colin Ruhland; Salamanders of the World by some guy named Ernest Larosiliere; and Extinct Amphibia by Carl Cohn, Sherrel Mercer, and John Simpkins. Hazaar had gotten him a remote control A10 Warthog aircraft—they knew the reason for why that gift was purchased and then given to their brother; while the remote controlled helicopter belonged to Hazaar Hazaar wasn't flying it much. Lazeer had mostly dominated the thing for the last few weeks.

"Now that you have two remote control things, you can lay off my helicopter." Hazaar said after Lazeer started putting his A10 Warthog together for its first flight about an hour or two after scaring their mother half to death with his remote control Tarantula.

"For a while—just until you start hounding me for my Wart." Lazeer said back.

"Speaking of warts, how many do you have on them fingers of yours?" Hazaar asked.

"None,"

"Bet that's a lie. You've been handling them frogs of yours daily."

"Getting warts from a frog is the oldest saying in the book," Lazeer said. He went on to putting his plane together then he went outside. Hazaar went with him.

He and his brothers had found themselves pressed for time after getting home from the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve. They had only had an hour before their mother's expected homecoming; just about every minute of that hour that they were given was used. Lazeer really had to thank their quick actions for his birthday going off as well as it had; his birthday could of happened in a totally different light, or not happened at all, if they weren't quick-quick-fast after coming home.

Lhaklar went upstairs to do a Healing session on his face and upper body not long after stepping foot in the door. He said a spell that counter-acted against the one that their father had used to keep their brother from removing the wrap of bandaging from the left side of his head right after Lhaklar went up to start Healing himself. Except for a few questions being asked, he, Lhaklar, and Lazeer were left alone. Guyunis and Hazaar had stayed out of the way. Lhaklar had just barely gotten a shower in before their mother drove up in the driveway; while most of his reason for taking a shower was to get all of the dirt, dust, blood, and sweat from his body, he had also wanted to rid himself of the smeared makeup that was on his head and hands. None of them knew what Lhaklar did with their father's clothing—he came in wearing the rags of what had formerly been a tuxedo. Either he threw what he was wearing away or the rags of the former tuxedo were hidden somewhere in the house.

Most of Lhaklar's facial cuts and bruises disappeared after his Healing session; the "skid-marks", that were on his chin and forehead, the long cut that was on his right cheek, the cuts to the corners of his mouth, his re-broken arm, and the bruises to his cheeks and around his eyes had remained. Their mother had questioned him on them injuries; he came back saying that he and some of his buddies had a "wrestling match" that got a little too rough.

"The things you boys do," their mother said after giving her eyes a roll. "I take it that you also have bruises on other parts of your body as well?"

"Yes,"

"Rather surprised with you, Lhakie. Having friends that rough house too roughly is something around Bile's alley; never would of expected for you to have friends that get too rough in their rough housing." their mother said. That had closed that matter.

Lazeer had put his "aggravated" facial injuries off on walking into a pole. He said that he and some of his friends were playing a blind-fold game; he walked right into a pole when his turn came. He yelled in pain while his friends just plain laughed at his misfortune; they went back to the game that they were playing afterwards. How their mother believed that was beyond him; Lazeer's story had many holes in it. How could walking into a pole make the gash that went across his left eye look worse? The left side of Lazeer's face looked much like a piece of raw meat now; he did all that he could to make it go back to what it looked like before their father had gotten a-hold of him. His Healing abilities had done only half of what he had wanted them to do, his brother's facial injury would just have to heal on its own accord.

So much could of happened on the first of the month; Lazeer could of been whisked away to merry old Moas, Lhaklar could of been killed by their father, their mother could of found the truth... while he was glad that none of that happened, he was personally very thankful for the latter not happening. They knew how much of a temper their mother had; their mother could of gotten blisteringly mad at them for not telling her the truth of what was really going on.

Shit, he could of been hurt too! Their father was making Lhaklar into mince meat... he could of turned on him after seeing him step out from the shadows. He was personally glad that the happenings of February the first were gone, buried, and mostly forgotten; he wouldn't be in the backseat of his and his brothers' i8 BMW with his date if all of the could-have's had happened.

His family, as far as he knew, had enjoyed a normal, pleasant Sunday. The seventeenth of February had started a little on the warm side then it got cold quick; nothing abnormal happened to anyone in his family that day. They got up at the appropriate time, they ate breakfast, then they went their separate ways. That day was a free day for their mother; she had a dance that she had plans to attend later that night. Lhaklar, Guyunis, and Hazaar had plans to go to a music festival that was taking place in Merry Old England—permission was granted to them a week earlier; they were expected to not drink and to be home before their mother returned. He and Lazeer would have the house all to themselves that night.

"Is it me or does it look like it's about to snow?" his date, a lovely dish that had blue-black hair, piercing, black eyes, and decently tanned skin, asked.

"That or rain." he said back.

"Getting a bit tired of both. You?"

"Ready for when the weather starts settling back to its usual groove. I'm a more warm-weather type of guy so I'm more than ready for when the seasons turn."

She leaned against him. Her breasts, perky and full, nipples just as as hard and erect as could be, pressed into his arm. Her trim figure, which he pretty much dominated for the last thirty minutes, had a sweat sheen to it; the backseat of a vehicle might not of been his ideal place for a date but he couldn't deny the fact that he and she had fun. The i8 BMW that he and his brothers owned was parked on a dirt square that was surrounded on three sides by tall, thick bushes; his date had said something about this location being the place where she and her former boyfriend had done their thing at. It took him a little while to loosen up after finding the spot; no one bothered him or his date from doing their thing.

"—elp," he said, slowly stirring from under her light weight. He grabbed the clothes that littered the floorboards that were in the back of the car then started getting dressed. "Best start re-dressing, I'm expected to be home here soon."

"Must our evening be brought to a close so soon?" his date asked. "We just stopped like ten minutes ago."

"Fifteen," he said.

"No, ten."

"It's been fifteen minutes since we stopped."

"Think you're trying to get rid of me," his date grabbed and then started throwing her clothes on; her movements spelled her emotions clearly. Her good mood was tainted by his over correcting. He slid his underwear, and then his pants, on quickly then he reached over to her; he cupped her small chin in his hand then slowly brought her face around so it'd be looking at him.

"My internal clock is busted, I apologize." he said. "My mother has a dance that she has plans on attending tonight and three of my brothers have plans to go to a music festival somewhere; my mother asked for me to be home at five-thirty and it's near that now."

"You have your excuse," his date said. She pulled her chin out from his hand then she finished redressing herself. "Drop me off at the small store down the road."

"I'd much prefer to drop you off at your place."

"My place is five minutes from there."

"A lot can happen in five minutes."

"Drop me off at the store down the road." his date insisted.

And that was how his thirty-minute date ended. On a sour note. It surprised him on how much, or on how little, a man could say that'd make a woman grow hot under the collar. All he did was correct his date on how long it was since their thing had ended; that, and his honesty in why he had to go home so fast, had ended a good evening on a sour note. His date spoke little on the drive to the little store that was down the road; when he tried to talk to her, she'd sniff or respond in small sentences. His date practically slammed the door after he reached the store. She walked off without saying goodbye; he shook his head then drove off down the road.

He was just five miles south of home; the idea of stopping somewhere to pick something up for him and Lazeer for supper crossed his mind once or twice. Until he chanced a look at the digi-clock that was in the car, he was tempted to do so. It was 5:25 p.m. He would be chancing it if he stopped somewhere for take-out; his mother had said 5:30, not 5:45 or 6:00. Some restaurants were fast while others were slow; he didn't want to take a chance in stopping at a slow-ass restaurant for take-out. His mother was expected to be at her scheduled dance in Bonn, Germany at 6:25 p.m.; in order for him to be given the round-about on what she wanted him to do during her absence, he had to be home. He could get take-out after she left for her dance.

"Should also wait to see what Lazeer wants. He might not want a pizza or something light like a burger and some fries." he thought as he drove along. "He might want a home-cooked meal. A real meal, not something that's half-cold or that's slopped together."

It was a five-minute drive from the place where he and his now former date had done their thing; when he pulled up in the drive, he saw that the house was lit up all nice and neat on the first floor. Only after getting out of the car, and then stopping in front on one of the two living room windows, did he see the reason for why the second level was so dark. It looked like he had gotten home just in time; Lhaklar, Guyunis, and Hazaar looked to be heading out and their mother looked about ready to leave. He wasted not a second in going in. The warmth of the house's interior made him stop for a second. He felt the parts of his body that went cold during the drive home warm up. He stood in place for a bit, letting his body adjust and warm, then he went down the hallway that came off the house's front door.

"Biley? Is that you?" his mother's call was loud, yet very welcome to his ears.

"Yes, ma. Just got in, hope I didn't keep anyone waiting." he said.

"Ten minutes more and you would have." his mother said. When he saw her from outside the house, she looked to be on her way to the kitchen; he guessed that that was where he'd find her. He went to that part of the house quickly.

He didn't know who the woman was at first. His mother very rarely attended events or dances and she very rarely wore anything flashy; she was doing both on this night. She looked rather radiant. The long-flowing, sequin, emerald-green dress, that she was wearing, was exquisite; considering the fact of where it was found, it fit her body nicely. Hazaar had come across the dress one day about a week ago; it, and a bunch of other feminine garments, was lying on a pile of rotting produce at the Durmersheim dump. Hazaar had done a marvelous job in cleaning the garment; the dress looked new and it had a good shine to it that would surely get some heads turning at the dance that his mother was planning on going to.

The pair of sterling silver peridot hoop earrings, that hung from her ears, went with the dress well; so did the green sapphire necklace that she was also wearing. She wore no makeup on her face; he really would of questioned if she was his mother or not if he came around the corner and then saw her face all painted up with makeup. Like with attending events or dances, and wearing anything flashy, she also very rarely wore makeup. When he walked around the counter, he saw that her dress was hiked up a bit; she had normal, green heels on her feet.

"Hey! Hey everyone—who's this woman in the kitchen? I'm not sure who I'm standing in front of, is this our ma or is this our "sitter" for the night?" he said in a mild yell after taking his mother's outfit in. His mother automatically smiled at him.

"At the moment, the woman that stands before you is just your mother. She will only become your "sitter" if you misbehave tonight while she's in Bonn." his mother said.

"Y'look great, ma." he said. "I'm almost afraid of seeing you come home with a man on your arm."

"And you know me too well, B." his mother said. She held her hand up for a second. The ring, that his father gave her over two thousand years ago, still adorned the third finger of her left hand. "For as long as I wear this ring I shall not be bringing any man home to play "daddy" to you or your brothers."

"Thank goodness for that—we'd be scarred for life if we so much as saw you playing man-drag." he said.

She smiled again, for just a second, then her face got set. He knew that the jokes were now over; it was now time for the serious stuff. His and Lazeer's instructions for the night. He clamped his mouth shut then stood still.

"I'll be home at eleven-thirty; I want you and Lazeer in bed before I get home. If Lhaklar, Guyunis, and Hazaar haven't returned home by eleven, call me. They know the drill—no drinking; they can smoke all they want at the festival in England but they're absolutely not allowed to drink." she said.

"Gotcha," he said quickly.

"There's food in the fridge; if neither you or Lazeer want anything home-cooked, you can order out. There's a twenty on the mantle in the living room; use it on just supper for you two. Don't let me come home to see this place torn to pieces and," he braced himself; he cringed slightly before it was said. "no one other than you and Lazeer are allowed to be inside this house."

"Yes, ma." he said, still keeping his cringe.

"I mean it. I come home to find a party going on, there's going to be trouble. No girls, and no friends of yours or your brothers. Just you and your brother."

"Gotcha—just have a normal, boring night with Lazeer." he said.

"Naturally, if anything comes up, and you need me, give me a call. I have my cellular on me. Mr. Leinart will be at the dance, so will Mr. Ballal. If you can't reach me, call one of them."

"Know all three numbers by heart," he said. This was only half-true. Of the three numbers that his mother had said he could call, he only knew two of them. He didn't know Mr. Ballal's number at all.

"I'll only call twice to see how you two are doing; no fighting while I'm gone, please. If you have any models that you haven't done, do them. Play some video games with Lazeer." she said.

"Don't just laze around doing nothing." he said quickly. "We have plenty to do to keep us preoccupied, we won't be bored and we won't fight. I promise."

If he or Lazeer were younger, in their kid-years, or of the untrustworthy sort, she'd of said no to attending the dance that Stefan had asked her to attend that night. She'd of stayed home. An early supper would of been made, the usual talks around the table would of happened, a movie or a video game would of been watched or played after supper, a model might of been started or finished or worked on, then they'd of climbed into bed for the night.

Normally, she wouldn't get but so nervous over leaving her boys at home alone. Her boys could be trusted. They knew how to behave and they knew that they were to call her right away if anything happened during her absence. They knew all the emergency numbers, they knew which neighbors to run to for help, and they also knew that they were to stick together until she either came home or someone from the one of the emergency numbers that they called came by to check things out. She didn't know why but she was extremely nervous about leaving Bile and Lazeer at home alone that night. Maybe it had something to do with a certain group of Goblins, some of whom she knew, being spotted two towns over from them earlier that day? Tazir was sure working hard to find them; the groups of Goblins, that he was sending into the shields, weren't only getting bigger but also more aggressive.

She shook her shoulders just a bit to rid herself of the feeling that she felt then she grabbed the German-made, silver mesh purse, that had everything that she needed in it, from the counter. She told her sons that she loved them; she reminded them about behaving themselves, and on if they needed her, that they could call her anytime; then she left the house. She was just getting into her Porsche when Lhaklar, Guyunis, and Hazaar left the house. Her three sons waved at her; she waved back then she watched as they teleported to England.

"Leicestershire, England. What a place for them three to be going to at this hour in the evening." she thought as she started sifting through her purse for her car keys.

If not for Guyunis, they wouldn't be going to Hologram 4101; an ad was placed in the paper a week and a day ago. It caught Guyunis's eye quickly. Unlike Bile, who trashed the music ad that he noticed in November, Guyunis had come to her right away. He asked her if he could go and she had a hard time in saying no. Her adopted son, who, a year earlier, was so against hanging around or doing anything with or around humans, had changed a lot; he was a very confident young man now. After a quick glancing of the holo-band line-ups that were expected to play at the festival, she made the suggestion that he ask Lhaklar and Hazaar to go with him. The holo-band line-ups that were expected to play at Hologram 4101 hadn't only catered to Guyunis's music interests but to Lhaklar's and Hazaar's too. She would of been a "criminal" to not suggest that he ask them to go with him.

Mid-Winter Music Festival  
Hologram 4101  
59th Annual Festival For Music Lovers of All Genres

February 17 only from 6:00 p.m. to 12:30 a.m.

Main Stage:

Slipknot  
Rammstein  
Hellyeah  
Anthrax

Middle Stage:

Beach Boys  
Queens of the Stone Age  
The Chordettes  
Little Richard

"Little" Stage:

Pearl Jam  
Ludacris  
Outkast  
Marilyn Manson  
Pantera

That was what the ad said; she remembered it very well. A piece of flimsy, blood red and black colored paper stuck in the center of the February 9th newspaper; the band names, and all of the information on the festival, was done in bright white letters. The ad was an eye-sore in the paper, but it did what the festival organizers and advertisers had wanted it to do in attracting people to the festival.

Of the thirteen bands listed on the ad, she only known three: Beach Boys, which were a quite popular psychedelic rock/pop band in the 1960's and 1970's; The Chordettes, which was an old, American female singing quartet that was quite popular in the 1940's, 1950's, and 1960's; and Little Richard, a rhythm and blues artist who was rather popular from the 1940's to the early twenty-first century. She was surprised over hearing that Bile had said no to attending the festival; some of the bands that were in the ad had also been up his alley, music-wise. Lhaklar had said yes after seeing the band line-ups for the middle stage, Hazaar had mainly said yes after seeing the line-up for the "Little Stage". Her sons were going to have fun at that festival, she had a feeling. They were probably going to have problems hearing from one or both of their ears after returning home.

She found what she was looking for in her purse right after her three sons shoved off for England. With her car keys found, she started on her way; to Bonn, Germany for the next few hours. The event that she was going to was mostly for the politicians of the country; she was more or less a guest of honor—someone there just to take up space.

Stefan was his usual, friendly self on the day that he called to ask her to the dance; they talked about their lives, and on how their families were faring, before going on to discussing matters that revolved around the Goblins that were still being seen in and around the towns and cities of southern Germany. Stefan was putting into serious consideration about stationing troops near the shields; he was very worried about his country's southern population. His concern had grown around the same time that Mr. Ballal's residence was entered illegally. His home had a new security system in it that was said to be extremely sensitive; some of his relatives that lived near him had also upgraded to the new system. He had offered to buy her and her boys the same security system a few weeks back; she had refused. If she and her sons were to have a security system in their home then they should be the ones to buy it, not a friend of theirs.

Her friend's concern levels were given a boost after word reached him about the increased aggressive antics of the Goblins that were penetrating the shields. The Goblins were now being reported as breaking into certain buildings, doing intense searches of the buildings that they broke into, stealing certain small items that were said to be very affordable to anyone of any income, and they were also now apprehending civilians.

"Apprehending? They're not taking the ones that they apprehend out of the shields are they?" she asked after hearing about how the Goblins were now taking certain people captive.

"As far as I know, no." Stefan replied. "I have more than two reels of security film that show how the apprehending happens. The Trolls note the person that they come upon, or that comes upon them, then they charge said person, then they grab, tie up, and then place him/her in a chair. They question whoever they catch then they stand in place for a few seconds before leaving the building."

Even though the question on how the Goblins went by their way of questioning the ones that they captured was on her lips, she hadn't asked it. She didn't need to be told how rough the Goblins were; she had her inner self, and the news, to thank for the answer to the question that she didn't ask. The news, about two weeks ago, had run a story on how the "Trolls" had assaulted a young, thirty-one year old woman. The woman, who was cloaked in shadow to protect her identity, hadn't said much; her memory of the event that left her with a black eye, four teeth missing, and a fractured jaw was swiped by the Goblins. Since that one news report, a dozen other claims of "unknown assaults" had been made; the Goblins were responsible for broken limbs, broken fingers, black eyes, fractured jaws, missing teeth, and other superficial wounds.

So far, neither she, her boys, or anyone that she knew had come in contact with the Goblins. She was keeping her eye open for them and she had made sure to tell her sons to also be on the look-out for them. The last thing that she wanted was to come home to find one of her babies mangled or badly injured; that went double for hearing that a Goblin was the cause for any and all injuries that were on her sons' bodies.

"The Gzujus twins were on the news today." she thought as she drove down the road that her and sons' house was on. "They, and about fifteen others—Mr. Khrelan and Mr. Zultoa included—, tore a warehouse in Ettlingen to pieces. No one was around to be hurt; they tore the warehouse apart then they left without repairing or putting anything that they misplaced back to where it was."

She shook her head then reached down for the knob that went to her car's stereo. While she normally drove in quiet, she wanted something to listen to that night. Maybe some music would drain her of the nervous feeling that she felt; something had to give—she was near ready to turn around then go home. She searched for a station to listen to for only a minute before placing her hand back on the wheel; a local band, that didn't have that good of a sound to it, was playing. She forced herself to listen to the music as she drove along. She was on the road for only twenty minutes before teleporting; her car disappeared from the road when the digi-clock, that was on the vehicle's radio, changed to 6:20 p.m. The drivers that had formerly been around her blinked their eyes and wondered what happened for only a second before resuming their drive to wherever they were going. Her Porsche D2 appeared on a side-street in Bonn, Germany a second after it and its driver were teleported from the motorway that they were traversing only seconds before.

"Hope you like sushi, Miss. Irene. The whole Sushi Circle restaurant on Friedrichstraße street was rented to us for the night; the number on the address is twenty-six." Stefan said after she said that she'd be delighted to attend the dance. "Sushi Circle bought-out a bunch of other venues over the years; it's grown in size. It pretty much dominates Friedrichstraße street now—you won't be able to miss it."

And, like the man had said, she didn't miss the restaurant. It was a long building; its exterior looked relatively new by that day's standards. Except for the general noting of how many were inside, she couldn't tell what the interior looked like. With the location of the restaurant being noted, she set her sights on finding a place to park; the street that the restaurant was on was clean of parked cars, so she automatically knew that parking her Porsche on the street was a no-go. She could be towed if she parked on Friedrichstraße street. She drove down Friedrichstraße street, then she made a right-turn. The street that she was on now was called Kesselgasse; there was a restaurant on the street that's parking lot was pretty full. She drove to it then, without putting much thought into what she was doing, parked her Porsche.

"Meine hübsche Dame, kann man nicht dort parken." she stopped after getting out of her car; it took her a little while to find the one who had spoken. When she saw that it was Ajeet Ballal, she sighed. The shadows in the parking lot were great; he had taken advantage of them.

"If not this lot then where shall I park, Mr. Ballal?" she asked.

"Paris, Miss. Irene." Mr. Ballal smiled at his strange joke. She smiled an awkward smile back. "Think everyone's parked here, my wife and I included. You're fine as long as your vehicle's legal." he said.

"All's legal on my end." she said. She started for the sidewalk; Ajeet stayed in the shadows for a few seconds more before following her.

While she was dressed for a dance, Ajeet wasn't. Except for the undershirt that was under the jacket, Ajeet was wearing plain, old, normal camouflage. Ajeet's hyphema was gone; it healed some weeks earlier. Most of the injuries to his face were gone; so was the wrap of bandaging that he wore around his head for all of two weeks. He looked very healthy; except for a few patches of discolored flesh on his face, he looked to of not been in a fight.

They walked down Kesselgasse street then they turned off onto Friedrichstraße street in silence. Neither said a word to the other and neither made so much as a sound; that made her nervous feeling go up another notch. The man, on the two times that she looked over her shoulder during the walk to Friedrichstraße street, was looking over his own shoulder. Was acting like he was looking or searching for something. That made her feel even more nervous. While she harbored no ill feelings for the man, she couldn't help but wonder what the problem was; the usual sounds of city-life were being heard, cars and other vehicles were driving by like usual, people were going by their business. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening yet here she was, being as nervous as could be. She was just turning to ask Ajeet if everything was okay when he suddenly appeared beside her; she jumped when she saw him, then she gave a nervous little titter after he looked at her.

"Don't need to ask you how you are tonight," Ajeet said.

"I apologize—it's not you, it's me." she said quickly.

"The both of us; you're not the only one that's nervous tonight."

His words barely registered to his friend's ears; what he said was very true and, in a sense, he felt very violated by his nervousness. He felt this way for all of a week now and he didn't know the reason for why. Like President Leinart and his wife, he and his wife had a new security system in their home. The new system, which cost him way more than the old one, should of made things easier for him. He should of been allowed to breathe and live a little easier. He hadn't; once that system was installed, his life had started spiraling down the tube. He and his wife were both acting like they couldn't wait to get out of the house each day after rising from bed.

He and Gretel had discussed the matter of their nervousness that morning. It felt like there were more than a dozen pairs of eyes watching their every movement and it felt like they were being followed whenever they left the house that they had lived in since getting married twelve years ago. With his wife's feelings of nervousness being disclosed, he did the only thing that he could think of at the time—comfort her, and show her where the pistol was. If anything happened during his absence, she knew what to do; call a relative, or go to one of the neighbors that they trusted, then call him. If the house was entered illegally while she was inside, she was to grab the pistol and then use it. No more using a broom on home intruders; the broom was a weak weapon—it might slow a person down but it wouldn't stop someone that had ill-intentions in one's home.

The nervous feeling at home was also felt at work. He couldn't read or do paperwork much less take a piss without feeling watched. He was sly in asking President Leinart if he felt any "different" after his new security system's installation; his country's president had said that he and his family felt safer than ever—there were no nervous feelings being felt. Everyone was going by their lives as if nothing new was added to their lives. The nervous feeling for him was amped to a whole new level last night; he and Gretel were a bit frisky... it was that time of the week for the passion juices to be tapped. He took her to bed. He made love to her all while feeling them eyes staring at him then, after their deed was done, he did nothing by lie in bed. It was stare at the ceiling time; wonder who saw the porking happen. His wife had also stared at the ceiling. The sheets were clutched in one of her hands; the very look of fear was plastered all over face. He did the only thing that he could think of—get up, get dressed, then do a full-house inspection to see if there was anyone inside that shouldn't be.

Nothing came up in his search. No trespasser. No placed devices that allowed one to see another without being there in person. Other than he, his wife, and their two children, no one was in the house. That went double for outside of the house.

The nervous feeling that he felt all week had disappeared after he left the little shin-dig that all of his country's Top Dogs were at. Until now, it had stayed away. He felt vulnerable again; that didn't settle well with him at all. Hearing that Miss. Irene was also nervous didn't settle well with him either.

"Where're the young this evening?" he asked, trying to be sly just in case he was being followed or watched.

"Two are at home. The other three are in England."

"Are where?"

"England. Leicestershire, to be exact. One of my boys saw an ad about a music festival taking place there."

"Hologram," he said. The festival that was taking place in Merry Old England was as old as he was. He went to it a few times in his youth. "Good festival to go to; it's packed but them old timey bands are grand. They usually have a bunch of smaller tents for the lesser known bands from the past set-up. If I heard correctly, they decided to forgo the smaller tents this year; just the usual three stages."

"The ad that I was shown said nothing about tents. Just something about a main, a middle, and a "little" stage." Angel said.

"Surprised that they're having the festival this year," he said, almost absently. "The weather's been just as bad there as it is here; the ground's not very firm in certain parts of England."

"A lot of landslides have been experienced in both England and Britain lately." she said. "Did you hear about the one that buried twenty or so cars on the M3 motorway that cuts off from Twyford Down?"

"Took workers and search teams nearly six hours of digging before they could start rescuing survivors. Of the fifty that were trapped under the 'slide, only fifteen survived." he said.

"All because of the excess rainfall that they've experienced the last few months. Terrible."

Sushi Circle was directly beside them now but they couldn't go in yet; the owners of the building might of had big bucks in mind during their purchase of the Betten-Niessen bed-shop and the Weinkomissar wine store but they hadn't had their smart caps on during the renovating of them two purchased stores. There were two doors to the establishment. One was for customers—it was down the walk a ways—while the other—which was in the back of the establishment—was for employees. Most of the restaurant's entire front was made of glass; the owners had done another idiotic move in deciding to make two-thirds of the building's front glass. There was a short layer of red and brown bricks under the glass. Letters spelling the various dishes served at the restaurant, the specials being offered, and the hours that the restaurant was open were painted on four of the glass panels that were on the restaurant's front; ivy vine, green and purple grapes, and tea leaves decorated the glass panes' outer edges. The restaurant's interior was full of customers; he saw President Leinart and his wife, Sigmar Röttgen and his wife, Ursula Arendt, Erhard Scheel and his male partner, and Gustav Maihofer and his long-time fiancée.

His wife was somewhere in the mix of people in the restaurant; she was mingling with Wilda Schmidt and her husband, Adolf, when he stepped out for a "breather". Katharina Fuchs and Bettina Gottlieb were also in the restaurant. So were some of the "Top Dogs" that ran the American government; the American president and his wife, and the American vice president and his wife, being the stand-outs of the American attendees.

"If you don't mind," he said, after grabbing and then pulling the customer-only door open. He gestured for his friend to go in; he went in after she did. "I'd like to introduce you to my wife before President Leinart steals you for the rest of the night."

"Of course," Angel said.

The pair of eyes, five in all, were automatically attracted to the newcomer to the building. Each pair of eyes—the green, the blue, the brown, and the yellow—grew wide when they saw her; the owners of the eyes hadn't expected for her to be at the event that the humans were at, the same went with how well dressed she was. The owners of the eyes watched as the newcomer was led across the room to where three humans, two women and a man, were standing.

Four of the five men that owned the pairs of eyes moved not an inch from their carefully secured positions; their hiding places were picked just prior to the humans' arrival. If they weren't hiding behind the counters, they were hiding in the attic space. Only one of them had thought about bringing an invisibility cloak with him. The one who had the invisibility cloak was walking about freely; the garment that he brought along allowed him to roam anywhere in the building without being seen. Lucky him, Zshon Zultoa thought. Lusotobaar Hiperaun had prime tickets to anything that went on in the building; he could do anything he wanted, or be anywhere he wanted, while he and Ulok Gzujus were forced to stand like statues behind the building's back counter. His father and Homsi Modulavich were up in the attic space; they were probably crouched low, trying to keep as balanced as could be so the ceiling wouldn't fall from under them. His father had mentioned something about how "unstable" the ceiling tile was earlier; he and Homsi were forced to stand sprawl-legged thanks to the fragile ceiling tile—a most uncomfortable position!

"Lusotobaar," Homsi's voice was barely audible on his hand-held radio. "What's going on? What do you see?"

"Modulavich—nothing at the moment; Mr. Smooth-Talker has Green Sparkle. They're mingling with three other humans." Lusotobaar's equally in-audible voice replied.

"How close are you to them?" his father's voice was of equal in-audibility; he just barely heard the question that was asked.

"Close enough to see." Lusotobaar replied. "Cannot hear anything being said—too far from them; there are too many humans in my immediate area to chance a crossing."

He cursed then inched his hand towards the hand-held radio that was hooked to the left side of his belt. Lusotobaar Hiperaun was called in as a replacement for the missing Gagneau Altamurod; Mr. Hiperaun, who had just eleven years under his belt in working for TazirVile Surfeit, was more than thrilled at the opportunity in taking Mr. Altamurod's place. The chance to prove himself as a worthy employee, the chance to set foot on another planet that was far from home, and the chance to gain some experience in working in a ship instead of in someone's house were the main things that he was thrilled in partaking. Except for a few areas where he needed help in, he settled right in on working in their employer's ship.

"The very essence of healthy; that was how papa and Ulok described her." he thought as he dropped the volume on his radio down a notch. "That hair of hers glows so brilliantly that one from space can see her—the humans _must_ be taking good care of her, wherever they've been keeping her."

While the establishment that he, his father, and their three co-workers were in was set-up to look like a dance, the air, and the activity, in the building was far from that. The air was much too tight; not free enough for any dancing. The humans in the establishment must of felt this because none were dancing; except for maybe ten or so people walking around freely, there were four groups just standing around. A lot of talking was happening. The women, in their fancy-schmancy dresses and good, expensive jewelry, seemed to be the more quiet ones. The men were the ones that were talking the most. An obese man with orange-brown hair had the attention of everyone in his group while Mistress Angel had the attention of everyone in the group that she was in.

Mr. Smooth-Talker, as Lusotobaar had called him, was at Mistress Angel's side; he and his co-workers had been following the man for the past week. The inner walls of the man's home were bugged, the man's car had a tracker in it, and the man's workplace—or, more specifically, the to-neat office that he did thirty to forty percent of his work in, that was located on the third floor of the Benderblock building—had more than two cameras in it. The phone in the man's office had also been wired so they could listen-in to any conversations that happened phonetically. The constant surveillance that was applied to the man hadn't been applied until a week ago. His employer thought that the man would provide him some answers or clues on his wife and sons; so far, no answers or clues had been given. The only thing that they noticed was the increased nervous antics of the man and his too-young wife; the Humpty-Dumpty act that the pair did last night was watched by more than three persons. Most everyone who watched the act had left the surveillance room for a "few minute breather".

If not for the memo that was left on the blotter of Mr. Ajeet Mahatma Ballal's desk, none of them would of known about the upcoming "dance". They had Mr. Ballal's pretty secretary to thank for that memo; if she didn't place the memo on the man's desk, none of them would of known about the "dance" nor would he, his father, Homsi Modulavich, Ulok Gzujus, or Lusotobaar Hiperaun be hiding in the establishment. Mistress Angel's sudden arrival would of also gone unnoticed.

"Shit!" the barely audible whisper that came from his hand-held radio was small yet fully belonging to his father—who was the only one of the five of them to have his radio set to catch anything he said. A sliver of dust dropped from where his father was standing in the building's attic space; he held his breath when he saw it.

"You're lucky on that one, Zultoa. No humans around to be bothered by your dust-trail." Lusotobaar said a minute later.

Which included her. She was too busy talking to Gretel, Ajeet Ballal's pretty and very smart wife, to notice the dust trail that fell from the ceiling. Gretel was much like her at the dance; she stood out prominently in her short, blush-pink pleated dress and heels. The pendant that hung from her neck was, without a doubt, Morganite. One of the rarest found, expensive rocks mined on the planet. In the five minutes that she was talking to Mrs. Ballal, she learned a lot about her. Mrs. Gretel Ballal was forty-one years old; she and her husband had two young children; and she had two bachelor degrees under her belt: one for Fine Arts and another for Business Administration. Gretel made one lewd joke about her encounter with the "Trolls" that she came upon in her and her husband's home on the first of the month. She refused to speak on the matter of the "Trolls"; not even an opinion was given. She just made the one joke then she avoided any further conversation made on that one issue.

While Adolf Schmidt, Wilda Schmidt's husband, didn't speak English, he was very fluent in German; he was a rather talkative man with a seemingly "difficult disposition". Wilda Schmidt spoke only when Adolf allowed her to; with her black dress and heels, the woman fit in almost perfectly with the crowd. The only thing that set Wilda Schmidt apart from everyone else was her hair: it was a most pretty, vibrant red color. Wilda only grew more talkative when her husband left to get "punch"; though timid and shy, she was very smart. How she came to be married to a man who was so controlling and unsupportive was beyond her.

She, Wilda, and Adolf Schmidt spoke for a few minutes then "a breeze" caused them to drift apart; she was left with just Ajeet and his wife for company after the two went on their way. The music, that was playing in the building—a mostly symbolic, instrumental Japanese tune—, was peaceful, but it gave her no peace or comfort. The feeling of nervousness, and of being alone, claimed her quickly. Gretel and she spoke on a few occasions then, like a light switch, they grew quiet towards one another; she didn't know the reason for why but the need to get out of the building was strong. She stood with the Ballal's for another five minutes before moving off. She had just reached the counter where the punch bowl and h'orderves—which consisted of a plate of stuffed cherry tomatoes; a long plate of sweet chicken bacon wraps; a plate of chicken pot-pie bites; and, of course, sushi rolls—were located when a hand was placed on her arm.

"What's such a pretty lady like you just walking around for?" Gustav Maihofer, a gray-haired man, who had gray-blue eyes, a rather wrinkled brow, and a pointy chin, asked.

"Good question." she said back.

"The floor is a bit vacant at the moment. May I ask that you join me in an attempt to break the dancer-drought that is being experienced?"

"What a way to ask for a lady to dance," she thought. "Sure. Lead the way."

Homsi left the attic space as quickly—and carefully—as he could thirty minutes after the "dancing" started; he didn't like any of what he was seeing and he bet that went double with his four co-workers, who were just as quiet as could be, watching the disgusting spectacle of their employer's wife being handed from one man to the next. In their eyes, the woman was being forced to dance. She was being forced to have someone near her at all times and it looked like she was also being forced to stay away from the buffet that lined the back part of the building.

The gray-haired man danced with their employer's wife for all of five minutes before passing her off to a man who had mid-length, brown hair and green eyes. The second man danced with her for only two minutes before passing her off to another man—this one having blue-black hair and black eyes. The third man "entertained" her for a little over four minutes before abandoning her. She was left to her own devices for six minutes before another man—this one having a near-bald dome with brown-gray hair growing around it—approached her. The fourth man had her attention for all of ten minutes before going on his way; the fat, orange-brown haired man was with her now.

Homsi left at the the moment where the dancing really started kicking off; their employer's wife, who had looked rather uncomfortable all throughout her previous bouts of dancing, started acting happy after the orange-brown haired man approached her. She and the orange-brown haired man danced for a good, long stretch before going their separate ways; the women, Mistress Angel included, had a solo dance after that dance then the dance floor was swallowed up. Mistress Angel went towards the buffet; Zshon and his father sighed after seeing her indulge in a little eating and drinking then their breaths caught when the man that they were following for the past week approached her. Mistress Angel was only allowed to drink a small glass of what-they-hoped was red wine or punch and eat two or three small things from the buffet counter before being whisked away to the dance floor again. Mr. Ballal had their employer's wife join him and his wife in a dance then he "claimed" their employer's wife for a couples dance... which became very wild very fast.

What surprised them was the fact that their employer's wife was a full-on participant to the wild dance that she and Mr. Ballal were having. While they knew what the Lindy Hop was, the dance that the two were having wasn't the Lindy Hop—or, at least, not in the full extent. There were too many exaggerated aerials—some, of which, made him, his father, and Ulok cringe—, and Mr. Ballal's hands were much too close to their employer's wife's parts—meaning, her breasts and rump. The duo had just forced the rest of the dancers from the dance floor when the door to the establishment was opened. The little bell, that clanged against the glass of the door, wasn't heard; everyone's attention was focused on the two that were dancing.

"Damn," Ajeet said after throwing his partner up and then catching and then swinging her around his body. He pulled the lovely lady between his legs then held her close; one leg of hers was pointed out while the other was bent, on the floor, holding her weight and balance. "You know some moves, Miss. Irene."

"Same to you, Mr. Ballal." Angel said, she was breathing hard.

"Let's finish this move then hand the floor to the others who wish to dance." he said.

He jerked her up so fast that she gasped in a moan. With themselves standing straight, he grabbed and then swung her around; she went around him twice before he decided on performing a move that he had never really done before in his adult life. His father had once thrown a woman up during a dance and then, with little trouble on his end, caught her. He hoped to do the same—it'd not look good on his part if his partner did a face-plant to the floor, or was sent to the hospital with a broken neck or back. He grabbed his partner around the waist then, before she could say a thing, or notice his intentions, threw her into the air. Miss. Irene looked like a Red-headed barbet for just a second. The spectators around him gasped when the woman flew into the air; he saw his country's president lunge forward after his action in throwing his partner into the air was done. He took two steps back then held his arms out; his partner landed in them almost perfectly. The only thing that went wrong in his catch was his hand-placement; while his left hand wrapped around the lady's middle, his right hand wrapped around one of her breasts. The right side of his partner's dress slipped; one breast was exposed to the masses for just a second. He placed the woman down then he placed a hand over the breast that was exposed. His partner was just covering the exposed breast when a loud, gravelly-sounding voice rang out.

"Take your hand off my wife!"


	47. Chapter 47

In the brief moment that she was given, before the pain seized control of her mind and body, all she could think about were her children: Bile; who was currently being driven up a wall by his brother, who said he wanted pizza for supper then, at the last second, changed his mind to tacos and then, after the tacos were bought and then brought home, complained about wanting homemade burgers and fries instead; Lazeer, who was trying his utmost best in testing his brother's patience; Lhaklar, who had broken her order in not consuming anything alcoholic while at the festival that he and his two brothers were at; Guyunis, who had also broken her order in not consuming anything alcoholic, but who was having a blast at Hologram 4101; and Hazaar, who was trying to pick up a girl and who was more immersed in the girls than in the music that was being played.

They had her mind for the briefest of time; even Eshal, who was busily writing in her diary before going to bed, was thought of before the pain seized control of her.

She had just started having fun at the dance. While most of her dancing partners were brief, she had enjoyed each moment that she had partaked on the dance-floor; her nerves, which plagued her all throughout her first few dancing partners, had settled bit by bit with each dance that she did on the floor.

Gustav Maihofer, her first dancing partner, was a bit of a smooth-talker. While being interested in dancing, he was also interested in smooth-talking her into telling him certain things about her life. Their five-minute dance went by nicely, despite the smooth-talking. The American Vice President, Victor J. Turcotte, hadn't really been interested in talking or dancing; their time on the floor was brief—just two minutes. Erhard Scheel knew not a thing about dancing; he tried to dance with her but, in the end, his feet and his frustration had gotten in the way. Her next dancing partner, Horace A. Smith, the American President, had spoken all throughout their dance. Topics such as how he and his family were doing, and how they were being treated, how his daughters weren't looking forward to going to a German school, and on how relieved he and his family were on finally being able to live a more normal, natural life were conversed during their ten-minute dance. Her nervousness had all but cleared up by the time she and Stefan had started dancing; Stefan was a proper gentleman. Their dance was long, with enough talk to keep her from worrying or wondering about what was wrong with her nerves, and it had also been comforting. The female, solo dance, that she and the women did, had also given her relief from her nervousness; her nervousness had tried to creep back in during the short few minutes that she was without a dancing partner then, like a switch, it disappeared after Mr. Ballal asked her to join him and his wife for a three-way dance.

The three-way dance with Mr. and Mrs. Ballal was calm, yet fun. Entertaining at times, even. She had never really been involved in a three-way dance before; just the usual couples or solo dances. If someone had told her that Mr. Ballal was cooking something upstairs on engaging her in a wild sort of Lindy Hop dance style, she'd of not listened or believed it. She had definitely not expected for their twosome-dance to be that wild. That went double with being thrown and with having half of her top being exposed.

Mr. Ballal was a fabulous dancer; the Lindy Hop was a nearly forgotten dance style. She was surprised after he started dancing in that style. She wouldn't be surprised if he knew the Tango, the Boogie-woogie, the Foxtrot, or the Quickstep—all rare and nearly forgotten dance styles that were enjoyed by the masses in the early twentieth to late twenty-first centuries.

The pain that she felt after Tazir's sudden appearance made all of the fun disappear. She forgot about the dance. She forgot about everyone that she danced with. She forgot about the Lindy Hop, the Tango, the Boogie-woogie, the Foxtrot, and the Quickstep. She forgot about her children. Her nervousness was also forgotten; all she could think about was the sudden pain that was ricocheting about her abdomen. It felt like her insides were twisting and turning inside her, the pain was that bad.

"Aaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"

If not for the ice pick that was currently reeking havoc in his right ear, he'd of heard his dancing partner's scream reverberate around the building's interior. He was close to her... Too close! His right ear was right in front of her mouth when she screamed. A loud gasp had come from her just a fraction of a second before the scream; instead of just standing in place, he could of jerked his head away from her. He could of saved his hearing and his eardrum. All he heard from his right ear was a loud buzzing or whirring sound; his reaction to her screaming out like that was perfectly natural, yet also perfectly disastrous. He had jumped back while she collapsed; his dancing partner, the planet's heroine, was currently all curled up on the floor in a fetal position.

The loud, gravelly-sounding demand that they heard had mostly been droned out by the scream. None of them were really able to take in their shin-dig's uninvited guests; their attentions were fully focused on his dancing partner, who had both of her arms wrapped tightly around her abdomen. Angel Irene's face was pinched-in and purple-looking; her eyes were tightly shut; her back was arched. Except for her painful cringe-backs, she was motionless.

It took them all of a minute to react to what was going on in front of them; the thing that got them going was her hair. At first, they thought that her head was bleeding. Her glowing, fiery red hair was strewn about the floor around her; to everyone in the building, it resembled blood and a lot of it.

Except for the women, who were temporarily paralyzed in place, everyone ran over to her. Stefan got to her first. The American President, Horace A. Smith, got to her next. The American Vice President, Victor J. Turcotte, was the next to get to her. Gustav Maihofer was the first to touch the "blood" that was on the floor; his announcement of the "blood" not being "blood" was mostly ignored.

Naturally, since he was the one who threw Miss. Irene, he was singled out.

"You idiot!" Victor J. Turcotte yelled.

"What were you thinking?" Erhard Scheel exclaimed.

"Her head! You threw her too high, Ajeet!" Sigmar Röttgen yelled in his direction.

"Back off, give her air!" Stefan said. When no one did, he got mean. He stood up; he started shoving people back before bending down to Miss. Irene's side again. He picked her up like a delicate doll then carried her to the counter; Horace A. Smith swept the counter clean of everything that was on it with his arm then backed away. Stefan placed Miss. Irene on the clean-swept counter gently.

"Here, here! U'zis; find zee cut und appwy pwesore, qwik!" Oskar Schaaf practically tore his tuxedo jacket off. He threw it at Stefan, who didn't catch it. Stefan picked the jacket up from the floor then gently lifted Miss. Irene's head up from the counter top.

"What's the nearest hospital? Someone call the nearest hospital, tell 'em that we'll be arriving with a patient that has a head-wound in fifteen—"

"Hey!"

If not for the Troll that fell out from the ceiling, they'd of noticed the alien that he knew all too much about. The Troll, the same one that he shot last December, who also happened to be the same one that he saw in the hospital room that he took Miss. Irene to after the American refugees were bused to Rastatt's Maquet Deutschland GmbH, dropped from the ceiling like a sack of potatoes. The creature landed hard, then rolled twice before coming to a stop; he remained still for ten seconds before stirring. More Trolls appeared after the one fell from the ceiling; one of the creatures appeared from out of nowhere while two others jumped onto the counter top. Stefan was quick in grabbing Miss. Irene but he wasn't quick enough to avoid a punch; he lost his balance after being punched. He fell to the floor. Miss. Irene was dropped. The side of her head just barely missed striking the edge of the counter.

The taller of the Trolls, the one that appeared from out of nowhere, went towards Miss. Irene; he was nearly to her when one of the men that were clustered around her reacted. The Troll was chased off by the American Vice President quickly. The creatures that were on the counter-tops were thrown from the counters that they stood on by Adolf Schmidt, Sigmar Röttgen, and Oskar Schaaf—the latter being Erhard Scheel's male partner. The women screamed after the two Trolls were attacked by Adolf, Sigmar, and Oskar. They ran forward during the attack. He turned and then went towards them after they bolted.

He was busily herding the women to where the men were when he noticed him.

"Yes. Act like the primitive, non-immortal animals that you are." TazirVile thought as he watched the humans' antics.

As he took in his surroundings—the colored crepe paper that hung from the ceiling and walls, the balloons that were either tethered to the counter or floating about freely, the green-and-blue floor tiles, and the light blue walls and ceiling—, he remembered all of what happened after Bile made-off with Lhaklar and Lazeer. It took him two days to gain control of himself; he was a guilt-ridden, miserable being for all of forty-eight hours. All he was able to do was sit in misery or puke out his guts. The merciless, un-called for beating that he gave out to his son had played out in front of his eyes with each hour's passing; he was a prisoner to the play-backs for all of two days before his mother, his stepfather, and his grandfather intervened to talk some sense into him.

"Commander-In-Chief thievery is a serious thing, Lad. It's not something you just bat an eyelash at. You saw someone walking about your ship, trying to take your position as Commander-In-Chief; your reaction in intercepting that person, and in teaching that person a lesson, was correctly done." his grandfather said.

"Lhaklar wasn't very smart, Tazzy. His dressing up and then altering his appearance to look like you was very stupid; instead of playing dress-up, he could of just gone into the ship in one of his animal forms. He could of made-off with Lazeer safely and injury-free if he used one of his animal forms." his mother said.

"What happened two days ago can be compared to one walking into a robbery. What happens? Do you let the robber run off with the goods—your stuff—or do you take charge in teaching that robber a lesson on who not to rob or mess with?" his stepfather said in trying to make a point out of what happened on the first of the month. "You didn't attack Lhaklar without a reason; he was walking around, imitating you. You, as a father, reacted mostly out of his having Lazeer. I'd of done the same thing if someone imitating me was trying to make-off with Defe or Qhuakiz—defend the offspring, ask questions later."

That did it; the 'defend the offspring, ask questions later' part of what his stepfather said had done the trick to get him out of his slump. While he still felt bad for beating Lhaklar, he didn't feel as guilty or miserable anymore; Lhaklar should of known better than to disguise himself as he. While Lhaklar was a smart boy, he should of known that he was running a good risk of getting his can kicked by disguising himself as he.

He had set his sights on the Ballal-man right after coming out of his slump. A group of ten Goblins were sent to the man's property; the inner walls of the man's tidy, well-kept house were bugged then a tracker was placed on the undercarriage of the man's green, eco-friendly Mercedes SL2X Pagoda then, after a day's worth of surveillance, a bunch of cameras were placed in the man's office. The phone in the man's office was also wired. He was serious in wanting to get answers on where his missing family was and on what their activities were; since the Ballal-man was seen with his sons and wife on more than one occasion, he was the logical one to track.

Up to now, the following of the male human who had a good house, a rather cushy job, and a rather pretty, young-looking wife had brought up no new leads on his missing family. Over the last few days he had wondered if he should shelve the whole operation; return the residence to the Ballal-man, remove the tracker from the vehicle that the man drove, and remove the cameras and listening devices from the man's office, then start over from scratch. Tap into another of the country's officials' lives or bug the entire Chancellery that was some distance from where he was now.

Something had kept him from doing that. He couldn't really call it a feeling... it was more like a weird sort of laziness had kept him from giving the order to remove surveillance from the man. From what was going on in front of him, he was glad that he hadn't de-bugged or camera'd anything of Mr. Ajeet Mahatma Ballal's.

He wasn't at his usual post when Homsi came in. A bathroom visit was in order for him; he did nothing but sit and wait for some news from his stationed butlers on what was going on at the dance that their subject was scheduled to attend that night. His butt hadn't budged from the chair that he took a seat in six hours ago; he ate and took drink while sitting in that chair but he hadn't once gotten up to relieve himself. As luck would play it, Homsi had come in right when he was dropping a load.

"Never fails! One can't just find an open, unoccupied bathroom; they have to bug me for this one even though the ship has over fifty bathrooms in it." he thought after someone started rapping on the door of the bathroom that he was in. "Bathroom's occupied! Whoever it is on the other side of the door needs to go find another bathroom to use."

"Sir, it's Homsi."

He hadn't much liked the idea of having Homsi standing on the other side of the bathroom door; unless he was showing or bathing and Angel was at home, or he was having issues and needed assistance, he preferred for his bathroom trips to be his and his alone. Even after being asked to, Homsi hadn't left his station in front of the bathroom door. In a way, he was glad that the Goblin had stuck around; he came close to dropping more than a shit after the Goblin started relaying all of what he saw at the event that Mr. Ballal was attending.

His exit of his ship was quick—so quick that he hadn't even given it a second thought about checking to see if his fly was up or not. Homsi had let him into the shield; they teleported to the location of the dance then they went in. His wife, who, Homsi had said, was being forced the dance and "hang-out" with other males, was dancing a most risqué dance with the very man that he gave the orders to be followed. He hadn't much liked seeing his wife so enthused in dancing with the man, nor had he liked seeing the man expose one of her breasts.

Angel Irene, the daughter of his nephew, Vile Skujik Vile, was _his_ woman. She was _his_ wife which meant that she, and them fine breasts of hers—along with the rest of her, of course— _belonged_ to _him_. No other man had right of touching, tampering, fondling, playing, or removing clothing articles from her body. He had exercised his right in claiming his woman as his right after entering the building; the Pains that his woman experienced whenever he was around—the ones that he and only he could release her from—were exhibited right after he spoke.

Them Pains were just as good as a wedding ring in telling one who a woman belonged to. They were only exhibited by the woman of the pair of Universal Lovers—a husband and wife chosen to be together by the Universal Gods.

"Mr. Hiperaun," he said after the women in the building were all herded towards the men and after Zshon Zultoa and Ulok Gzujus were run off from behind the counter.

"Sir," Lusotobaar, a near purple-skinned Goblin, who had green eyes, stringy, platinum-blond hair, and a mild spotting of warts on his left cheek and jaw, replied quickly.

"With your height and stoutness, you shouldn't be that easily run off," he said. The burly, five foot, one inch Goblin looked down for a second before gaining his eye again. "You're the bigger of the five Goblins here, do me a favor and split the humans into two neat groups."

"Yessir."

Ajeet saw the Troll coming. He intercepted him almost perfectly; it cost him the sight in his right eye—yet again. that eye seemed folly for the creatures that were, as of late, making his life a living hell—, and it also cost him a bloody mouth, but he managed to keep the Troll from doing what his employer had told him to do. Gustav Maihofer joined him when the Troll returned for another try; the Troll, who had a very compressed, strong body, sent Gustav reeling with a broken hand two minutes after the second round of fighting began. The third round with the Troll went in his favor; not only did he add some military maneuvers to his fighting style but he also sent the Troll reeling with a broken eye socket, a broken nose, and a broken collarbone.

"Zshon," the alien leader of the Trolls said. The Troll that he spoke the name of stood at-attention at once. "You have experience in Boxing and Wrestling. Teach the human who's been a thorn in Lusotobaar's side a lesson or two."

"If it gives you incentive," the Troll that fell from the ceiling said to the Troll that just took a step forward. "The human that you're about to fight is one of the two that sent me back to camp with a bloody face earlier this month."

Using his military training or not, the fight between he and the second Troll was a hard one. The Troll, who stood four foot, nine inches, and who had one hell of a strong body, fought him for nearly five minutes before backing off. He was "absorbed" into the throng of men and women that surrounded Miss. Irene; his nose was a bloody mess, there was a long cut above the eye that he couldn't see out of, his knuckles were open and bleeding, and he felt sick to his stomach. It took him a short while to get himself together. When he felt somewhat better, he stood up; he saw that no one had taken his place in fighting off the Trolls when he did.

"Ajeet," his wife said. He turned to her; she smiled at him then grabbed him up in a hug. He hugged her back then gently pushed her away.

"Where's Miss. Irene?" he asked.

"We need to get her out of here," his wife said. "Mr. and Mrs. Leinart and Mr. Smith are staying by her side; she's still acting painy."

"Rush into the crowd. Scatter them. Do whatever you have to to separate my wife from them."

The alien leader of the Trolls was loud when he made that order; they all heard it. They braced themselves for what was to happen next. The Troll named "Zshon" joined up with the two, unnamed and unidentified Trolls then, in quick fashion, they charged the crowd. A small section of their group was separated from them. Some of the women fled to the other side of the building; two men went with them. Stefan grabbed the shoulders of the Troll named "Zshon" then swung him around to facing him after he reached his area; a well-placed punch sent the Troll reeling back. Stefan's punch was so strong that Ajeet bet his left arm that the Troll had seen stars. Stefan swung at one of the unidentified Trolls next. The Troll shook his head after being punched; he then lunged at the man. A fierce fight happened between the two of them.

The American President took advantage of the brief time-window that he was given to move Miss. Irene from where she was. While Stefan fought with the Troll, Mr. Smith grabbed Miss. Irene up from the floor; he jumped over the near full-glass counter without looking back or checking his surroundings then he placed Miss. Irene down on the other side. He had just placed the woman on the floor when he seized up. Ajeet and most of the members of his group watched in horror as the man was lifted from the floor by an invisible force; the man had no more been lifted from the floor before being flung to the side. He crashed into the wine shelves that were on the far left side of the back of the building with such force that nearly all of the bottles that were on the shelves broke.

"Horace!" the American President's wife, Winifred, screamed. She broke from her small, cut-off group then ran towards her husband, who was slowly getting to his feet.

"Anyone else wish to be "taken out"?" the alien leader of the Trolls asked. Except for Miss. Irene and Mrs. Leinart, everyone's attentions were automatically drawn to him. "Surely the men in this room, who have partners, know where I'm coming from when I say for no one of the male gender to touch my wife."

"And who the hell may I ask are you?" Stefan asked. He pushed himself to the front of the group quickly. The alien said nothing to him, at first. He just sized him up; gave him a good looking over before deciding to address him.

"The husband of the woman who was just moved to behind the counter," the alien said. "I need not be told who you are. The only interest that I have in this building is the collection of my wife."

"Better re-think that interest of yours. Miss. Irene's not going anywhere with you." Stefan said.

"That so, Mr. I-Like-Shoving-People-Out-Of-Whirlybirds?" the alien said. A smirk looked to be pulling on one side of the alien's O-shaped mouth.

"Be decree of the Government and People of this land, you and everyone else residing in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve are illegal immigrants. You are not welcome here and are to leave immediately!" Stefan said in a loud, firm voice.

He, his wife, and Mrs. Leinart leaped over to the side of the counter that Miss. Irene was on quickly; they barely had time to take in Stefan seizing up or being thrown towards the far right side of the back of the building. Once they were on the other side of the counter, they started working on figuring out what was wrong with Miss. Irene. She looked to of gotten a little better; her face wasn't as purple anymore but her arms were still woven tightly around her abdomen and she was still giving them pained cringe-backs. Mrs. Leinart, who was a registered nurse, checked the woman's pulse before placing her hand down on the woman's abdomen. While Mrs. Leinart was checking Miss. Irene over, the alien leader of the Trolls was reeking havoc on the men that refused to leave their post in front of the counter that he, Gretel, Rosalinde Leinart, and Miss. Irene were behind.

The Troll named "Zshon" managed to split four of the women from the larger group; he and another Troll kept the men and women that were in the second group from being able to return to the larger group while the one uninjured and still not identified Troll worked on splitting more people from the group that remained in front of the counter. The Trolls' leader got involved in the mayhem a few minutes later, when it became clear that no one else could be easily run off from the larger group. He grabbed and then sent Victor J. Turcotte flying towards the front of the building soon after joining the "action"; Gustav Maihofer followed behind Victor a few seconds later. Bettina Gottlieb managed to upper-cut the alien twice before being back-slapped; she was slapped so fiercely that she went flying towards the building's front left corner. Either the slap or the collision with the corner caused her to lose consciousness.

While the alien was mostly aggressive with the men, he didn't just restrict his aggression to that gender; he threatened the women that came at him verbally then, when they continued to come at him, he swung at them.

A slap sent Victor J. Turcotte's wife, a lovely brunette by the name of Lillian, spinning. Another slap sent Katharina Fuchs flying towards the counter; Katharina bounced from the counter then came at the alien again. He responded by knocking her out cold with a "mild punch". Miss. Ursula Arendt and Wilda Schmidt were with the other group, so they were safe from the abuse. One of the American Senator wives was thrown towards the building's front. Another wife of one of the American Senators followed behind her. Stefan, who had only just managed to get to his feet, rushed at the alien after the second American Senator wife was thrown. He threw the alien forward after colliding with him then, without wasting a second, started landing left's and right's to his face. The alien allowed for maybe ten or so blows to happen before pushing the man back. Ajeet watched as his country's president was lifted from the floor again; the alien, using whatever strange, barbaric power he had to his disposal, "bounced" the man around like a ping-pong ball for a few seconds before throwing him towards the building's front. A section of the building's glass front shattered after Stefan went through; wherever the German President went, none of them knew.

"Stefan!" Rosalinde screamed her husband's name; the woman had obviously seen her husband being hurled out of the building's glass-front. She got to her feet then started towards the counter right after her husband was sent out of the building. He grabbed her around the middle to prevent her from leaving the backside of the counter, he then threw her to the wall.

"Stay there! Cover your head!" he yelled at her. She glared at him before doing what he told her to do.

He turned his attention towards his wife and Miss. Irene after Rosalinde's head was safely secured in her arms. He had just reached the two womens' side when the near full-glass counter in front of them exploded. He shielded himself and the two women from the glass then he was treated to feeling his body seize up.

"Ajeet? Ajeet, Ajeet!"

He heard her but he couldn't go to her. His muscles refused to move. He found himself unable to move his arms or legs. He could move his eyes but that was all. The sensation that he felt was odd. His blood slowed to a bare trickle as he was lifted from where he was; he knew that he was sweating and bleeding but he didn't know where. He couldn't feel the wetness at all. Whatever had him lifted him from the two women quickly; he was jerked up towards the ceiling twice then he was flung to the side like a rag doll. When his body struck the broken wine shelves, he screamed in agony. His sense of feeling returned at once; it was a glorious yet horrible feeling. The pain that he felt on the back of his head, which had two deep gashes on it thanks to his being thrown up against the ceiling, was nearly unbearable. He pushed himself up from the glass covered floor at the same time that one of the Trolls grabbed his wife up from Miss. Irene's body.

"Gretel!" he yelled. He ran forward on a pain-leaden body for all of twenty feet before feeling that same sensation overflow him. He was grabbed by the invisible force then he was thrown right back to the broken wine shelves. The left sleeve of his military-issue, camouflage jacket ripped; he was treated to feeling the flesh of that arm being ripped back by the sharp, jagged pieces of glass that littered the wine shelves and floor.

Seeing her husband being treated so cruelly, so unfairly, infuriated her. Her husband didn't deserve to be treated in the way that he was; though young at heart, he was a very professional, hard-working man who tried his best at everything he did. Ajeet Mahatma Ballal, her husband of twelve years, the man who came into her life when times were dark, who saved her from a marriage that she should of never entered in the first place, was a good as gold type of man who deserved every drop of respect known in the vast known Universe.

She adored the man; he might be shorter than most men but that really meant nothing—he was three men in one. Very healthy. Very strong. He had a good heart and a good head on his shoulders and he had a good sense of humor. All good qualities that she loved in a man. Her mutter hadn't much liked the idea of her marrying a man seventeen years her senior, neither had her vati; they had wanted her to either stick with her former husband or just divorce her former husband and stay single. They hadn't seen the goodness in Ajeet Mahatma Ballal; they judged him on just his age.

She and Ajeet, her third husband—her first having left her just two months after their marriage and her second being a dead-beat, overly controlling, abusive cuss—had two beautiful children together: Haimi, the oldest, who was just barely eleven, and Chayla, who just turned eight. Did her parents see good in them two lovely babies? Well, they regarded them as their grandchildren, and they seemed to adore them, but she knew how they felt about them. Her mum was against the notion of their giving their children Indian names; even after being explained the meaning of the two chosen names, they were against their son and daughter being given Indian names. Haimi meant Golden; their son was sure a golden boy—he took well to his name. Chayla meant Fairy; their daughter was such a pretty thing and she did seem to like Fairies—she even had a collection of Fairy-stuff in her room. While their children had Indian-first names they had German middle names; Haimi's was Günther while Chayla's was Brigitte. Had her parents liked the dual-nationality naming of their children? That was a no—they frowned on it, heavily.

While she and her husband had noted the change in atmosphere in their home their children hadn't; Haimi went on being a golden-boy and Chayla went on playing with her Fairy-dolls and other toys. Their children had continued to go to school, had continued doing their studies, and had also gone on with their usual lives; they weren't fazed by the sudden change in their living space's atmosphere. In the deep recesses of her mind, she had felt that the Trolls had something to do with the sudden, lurky feeling that was in her house but she hadn't really discussed or given it a good thinking. She went on thinking that she was crazy; that she was jumping shadows. Even after her husband admitted that he, too, felt the same way with their twelve-year owned and lived in house, she went on thinking that she was crazy.

The Trolls entering her abode—the place where she and her husband were raising their kids and where they lived half of their lives at—had made her feel uneasy. Yes, she took a broom to them. She hoped and prayed that they'd not bother her or make her good, bright, sunshine-y life turn upside down again; it looked like all of them hopes and prayers were all for nothing. Five Trolls were at the dance that she and her husband were invited to; one of them had her in his clutches. That added more fuel to her infuriation. How dare this creature, who had brown skin and large, expressive, blue eyes, touch her!

"Hau ab!" she yelled as she hocked her leg up into the Troll's groin. The pupils in the Troll's large, blue, expressive eyes became tiny as he hunched over; he was reaching for his groin when she jerked her leg up again. The Troll went bye-bye after that; her knee throbbed but she felt proud of herself for giving the creature a well-deserved kick in the chin.

"Hey!"

The Troll that grabbed her was the exact same one that her husband "annihilated" earlier; he—like with the first Troll, it was the tuxedo that made her think that "it" was really a "he". the creature wore a strange, plum-colored tuxedo that was ripped in more than two places—grabbed her by the wrist then, before she could do anything to protect herself, or to ward him off, he yanked her from the woman that she had heard a lot about but who she had only just met. She was yanked from Miss. Irene's still floor-bound body; her own body, which was just five foot, two inches tall, and which weighed a hundred and twelve pounds, was thrown against one of the few remaining brass rings that were apart of the near full-glass counter then it was dragged away.

She kicked, she thrashed, she spat and cursed... she did just about everything that she could think of to get out of the creature's iron-clad grip. The idea of using her teeth against the creature had just formulated in her brain when the creature was taken out by a wooden chair; she looked over at the American President for a second before crawling back to the still immobile friend of her husband's. The American President followed behind her for a few steps before being seized by whatever power the hideous alien that commanded the Trolls had to his disposal; he was thrown towards the back wall of the building hard. She had just reached Miss. Irene's body when she felt her own body seize up. Like with her husband, Stefan Leinart, and Horace A. Smith, she was treated to feeling the odd sensation of her blood slowing to a near trickle. She screamed as she was hurled towards the restaurant's front right corner a second later.

"Gretel!" Ajeet shrieked at the top of his lungs. He took in his wife's still, unmoving form before getting to his feet; he staggered half a dozen steps forward before having his legs kicked out from under him. One of the Trolls grabbed and then threw him back towards the broken wine shelves a second later. His body, from his head on down to his feet, was a melody of pain! It literally ached with each movement that he made.

"That's quite enough," the alien, who was now standing in front of the still untouched, second group, said. Ajeet watched as the alien "pranced" in front of the group; the alien looked each member of the group over before nodding his head. "Think we made our point, Boys."

"Āpa Aśiṣṭa!" Ajeet snapped in Hindi, one of his few known and fluent languages. The alien's head turned towards him slowly.

"You, my good, Little Man, are quite right in that regard." the alien said in an eerily calm sort of way. "When it comes to the protection of what is mine, I _will_ become barbaric."

"Nothing on this planet belongs nor will ever belong to you." Ajeet said. An electric feeling suddenly coursed through his body. He screamed for all of ten seconds before going quiet.

"Be careful of the words that stream from that maw of yours," the alien said, menacingly. "The charge that I just forced you to experience was a mild one, I can always make it stronger."

"Victor!" Lillian Turcotte yelled after seeing her husband stir from the spot that he landed at only minutes before. "Victor! Vic—"

Lillian Turcotte's yell was cut-off suddenly. The muscles in her throat stopped working; her vocal cords went cold. The very essence of fear spread across her fair face after the alien turned to look at her. The alien stared at her for a few seconds before turning his attention back to Ajeet; the Troll that stood before Ajeet backed off after the alien gestured for him to. Ajeet was caught utterly unprepared for what happened next; the alien strode up to him quickly then, without saying a word, or making a sound, he grabbed him around the throat.

"Now that we're eye-to-eye with one another, we can have a good, serious, heart-to-heart conversation." the alien snarled in his face. "I take it that the "Gretel" woman that you've yelled at more than once in the last few minutes is your wife?"

"Uh-huh," Ajeet struggled; he twisted his body in all sorts of directions, trying to get lose from the alien's grip.

"You didn't like my employees handling her now did you?"

"N-oh," Ajeet strained.

"And you didn't much like me playing Toss with her, right?" the alien added some strength to his grip; Ajeet automatically stopped struggling. He started breathing raspily.

"R-iii-ght,"

"Brought out that protective, male side you have. Right?"

"Uh-huh,"

"Sorry, what was that?" the alien said.

"Right," Ajeet barked just as loudly as he could.

"Good. Glad to see that you're a responsive man instead of one of those quiet types that try to avoid any and all questions asked of them." the alien dropped him to the floor; he tottered off-balance for a second before being grabbed and then pushed back against the wall. "Now that we have that score settled I can ask you the real important questions. How do you think I felt after coming in here, seeing you touching one of my wife's delicate areas?"

"I wasn't touching Miss. Irene." Ajeet said.

"Sure looked like it to me, Pal."

"I wasn't touching Miss. Irene," Ajeet said again.

"Your hand was mighty close to her breast, which, I might add, you caused to be exposed."

"I didn't mean for her breast to pop out like that; my hand didn't touch her, I just held it over her breast to—"

"I saw intent in your act—"

"I did not intend for that to happen!"

"And I'm sure you'll tell me that your little "dance" with her was also not intended?" the alien grabbed and then started to squeeze Ajeet's ravaged right arm; Ajeet hissed his pain.

"That was intentional." Ajeet replied. The alien's grip tightened. "She was consensual to it! Full participant!"

"Sure she was," the alien's grip tightened again; little stars started dancing in front of Ajeet's eyes. "I bet she enjoyed every minute of that dance. I bet she enjoyed being thrown from one man to the next. I bet she she enjoyed every second of being made a fool of."

"She wasn't forced into doing anything!" Ajeet used the little strength that he had to yell in the alien's face. "None of us had intentions to make her look like a fool—we were including her in the dance, that's all!"

"Your eyes deceive your w—"

"Tazzy,"

The snarl, that was on the alien's face, evaporated after her voice, which rang with pain-notes, was heard. He dropped to his knees after the alien released him; the circulation that ran through his left arm "gasped" so suddenly he felt faint. If not for his worry over what the alien could do to his friend he would of let himself go to sleep land. The vision in his left eye was blurry for all of ten seconds; when it cleared up, he saw that his friend was neither standing nor sitting down. One of Miss. Irene's arms was still wrapped around her abdomen, the other was gripping the brass ring that the Troll had thrown his wife into. Miss. Irene's face was a sweaty, crayon red color; her hair, which was loosely wavy earlier, was all over the place. Miss. Irene was just barely keeping herself up; her body would shudder periodically every few seconds.

The alien, who was wearing a burgundy tuxedo, the jacket, of which, had a split tail in the back that went all the way down to the floor, went to her quickly. Everyone—himself included—held their breaths as he swept his hands to the side; the glass around Miss. Irene moved. It was like an invisible broom had come by to sweep all of the glass particles away from the woman. When the alien reached Miss. Irene, he dropped down to one knee; his worry over what the alien could do to his friend reached a new level when he remembered what happened with the two American Senator wives, Katharina Fuchs, Bettina Gottlieb, Lillian Turcotte, and his wife, Gretel.

If the alien was so prone to attacking them women then who said that he wouldn't attack Miss. Irene, who was, more or less, defenseless? He was reaching for the chunk of wood that had once been the extreme lower part of the counter that had once been apart of the building when he heard talking—a bizarre sort of language that he didn't understand—coming from Miss. Irene's direction.

"Uryuomoco," the gravelly-voiced alien said to his friend. "uok dyma, spielema."

She smiled. It was the only thing she could do. Like Ajeet, she, too, didn't know what he said. She judged his words by the tone of his voice; his gravelly-sounding voice, while still low, had a soft tone to it now. Going by that, she guessed that he was saying something sweet to her. That or comforting.

Her ability to move was extremely limited; she could barely manage a crab crawl. The pain, which had dropped a degree or two in the last few minutes, was still ricocheting around her abdomen. Even though she couldn't move about much, she had still kept up-to-date on the happenings around her. She had heard it all and, thanks to that, she had pictured everything that happened to her friends and acquaintances almost perfectly. She hadn't much liked what was going on so, with a lot of effort, and using just about all of the strength that she had to her disposal, she turned around then crawled forward. A simple call-out had done the trick. Ajeet was dropped; Tazir had forgotten all about him. Her Universal Husband, the father of her children, was right in front of her.

Eldass and Zshon were still minding the still intact and injury-free group of humans. Ulok was in front of Ajeet; he seemed to of forgotten all about keeping tabs on the man. Lusotobaar Hiperaun, a Goblin that she wasn't very familiar with, was off to the side. The skin around Lusotobaar's left eye was an ugly black, dark brown, and gray color. His unsymmetrical nose was three times its size; the small, triangular-shaped nostrils, that were apart of the man's nose, were quite bloody. She couldn't tell but she thought that she saw something protruding from the man's right shoulder. There was some sort of injury to the man's head; Lusotobaar's stringy, platinum-blond hair was streaked in his yellowish colored blood.

Homsi was the only Goblin not standing. He was in a seated position near the front of the building; his hands were firmly pressed between his legs. His chin, for some reason, looked swollen and discolored on one side.

Bettina Gottlieb was in the building's front left corner; either she was badly hurt or unconscious. Victor J. Turcotte and Gustav Maihofer were walking around in a daze; Katharina Fuchs was slowly pushing herself up from the floor; two women, one blonde, the other black-haired, were huddled together near the far right side of the building; Gretel Ballal was holding her left arm in a funny way. Ajeet looked the worst of the people in the building. His face was a bloody mess, so was his left arm. She didn't know where Stefan or the American President were.

Such a nice night come to this. The building was in-ruin and people were injured. She struggled to not shake her head in despair.

"Ki, dinela shafe." she said. She knew very little Moasian. What she said was simple—hi, my love.

"Myshab ney liv," TazirVile said. He brought his hand towards her. She thought that he was going to touch her. Take the pain that she felt away. His hand hovered in air instead. She only knew one of the words that he said—Myshab meant 'you look'. Whether he meant fine or fabulous or grieved with the rest of what he said she didn't know.

"Tazzy," she said. Her hand suddenly slipped from the brass ring that she was holding to keep herself somewhat up from the floor. The palm of her hand was ripped open as it slid down the ring; she cringed at this new pain for only a second before letting her body drop to the floor. She was only on the floor a second before feeling a set of fingers run through her hair; it was that one move of Tazir's that released her from her pain-stricken curse. The pain that was ricocheting around her abdomen lifted at once. She gasped in relief; her body shuddered for all of twenty seconds before calming down.

"My love?" TazirVile said, this time in perfect English. She looked up at him; the rage that had once beset the man's face was no longer there. His face was now soft and mellow, she gave his features a good looking over—the chiseled jaw; the forever creased, furrowed brow; his high, narrow cheekbones... how anyone had managed to not claim and then keep this man as theirs long before she came around was beyond her. TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit was, in her eyes, a devilishly handsome man!

"Taz," she said back.

He was automatically stricken with confusion after returning to the building that he was thrown from some minutes earlier. He wasn't sure of what he was seeing; except for a few things, everything looked exactly the same as it had before he was thrown from the building.

Gustav Maihofer and Victor Turcotte were walking about freely now. The two American Senator wives, Faith, the blonde, belonging to Mr. George Adams, the New Hampshire Senator, and Nicole, the darker haired lady that belonged to Mr. David Warner, the Senator from Virginia, were hugging one another near the far right side of the building. Gretel Ballal was near the front of the building; her left arm was held in an odd position. Katharina Fuchs was on her knees; she was about four feet from the alien and Miss. Irene. Bettina Gottlieb was still unconscious. His wife was hunched over near the back of the building; her head was neatly nestled in her arms. He wasn't sure if she was hurt or not.

The Trolls were now scattered. Two were standing in front of the small, still untouched group of people—most of whom were women—while another was near the broken wine shelves. A rather badly injured Troll was off to the far right side of the room. Another Troll was right in front of him; it looked like he was injured somehow—he was rocking back and forth and it looked like his hands were pressed down on something. Unlike the other Trolls, who were silent, this one was talking and making sounds; he couldn't make out what the creature was saying—the creature was speaking in a multitude of different languages.

The thing that confused him the most after returning to Sushi Circle was what was going on between the alien leader of the Trolls and Miss. Irene. Miss. Irene's slim, feminine arms were sliding over the alien's shoulders; one of the alien's masculine arms was wrapped around his friend's upper torso while the other he couldn't see. The two were engaged in one of the oldest activities known to mankind; while he couldn't hear it, he knew that they were kissing and, from his angle, quite passionately too.

Why the hell was Miss. Irene kissing the alien who caused so much brutality in such a short span of time? His friend, who was in so much pain earlier, looked to be perfectly fine now—why was that? His friend should be warding or fighting the alien off, not kissing or embracing him.

"Marital feelings or a distraction," he thought after taking in the sight of the alien and Miss. Irene kissing. "Everyone's calm—odd for what's happened in the last few minutes. Except for a few, no one's moving, but everyone's c—"

One of Miss. Irene's hands lifted from the alien's shoulders; it rose, flat-out, not as a fist, then it was flipped to the side. The floor where Ursula Arendt, Lillian Turcotte, Wilma Schmidt, and the others in the uninjured group flipped; in the blink of an eye, everyone in that group disappeared. Miss. Irene did the same thing with that same hand a second later. Faith Adams and Nicole Warner disappeared, so did Gretel Ballal. The floor under Victor Turcotte and Gustav Maihofer had just been flipped when he figured out what was going on. Miss. Irene, the heroine of his planet, was using her powers to send the people that she could see out of the building; she was sending them somewhere where they'd be safe. She couldn't send Ajeet or Rosalinde to safety; Rosalinde was behind her and Ajeet was just barely out of her sight-line. Katharina Fuchs and Bettina Gottlieb were the last two persons that she sent out of the building; they were the only ones that she could see clearly.

Bettina had just been sent out of the building when the building's back door opened; the American President, a man who looked to of seen much better days, crawled along the floor a ways then, when he got close to the embraced pair, he stood. He leaped into the building after he saw what the man had in his hand.

"Master Tah—"

The brass ring that Horace swung at the pair—the alien and Miss. Irene—produced a loud, yet hollow, sound. The alien collapsed to his side with a groan while Miss. Irene remained kneeling in place; Horace grabbed her up quickly then threw her—a little unkindly, but understandingly—towards the building's open back door. Rosalinde ran to the door like a dog for a few feet before starting to run like a dignified woman; Ajeet followed behind her. Stefan grabbed his friend's purse up from the floor—the woman's information was in it; he didn't want the aliens to find where the lady lived!—then he fled out the same door that his wife, Ajeet, and Miss. Irene went through. The American President followed behind him quickly.

"Good thinking, Horace!" Stefan said.

"Thank me later, let's find where the two ladies and Mr. Bahaah went." Horace said back.

An explosion happened behind them right after they left the Sushi Circle restaurant. Neither man stopped or looked back to see what was going on; they continued running down the back-alley of the restaurant that they had just escaped from. Bits and pieces of concrete, brick, wood, insulation, and pipe-metal fell on them as they ran. Stefan kept the purse that he had in his hands clutched to his chest for all of two minutes before lowering it to his belt; he tied it to his belt quickly without slowing or missing a beat in his run.

Their breath came out as gray vapors; it was cold out, nearly thirteen degrees, and neither had a coat or anything to keep them warm. They had just reached the far, right-side corner of the back-alley when they heard a series of footfalls behind them. The footfalls—quick, fast, they were both sure that they were being followed by the Trolls—grew louder and closer for a short duration of time before dying off; they rounded the corner of the back-alley then ran down Bonngasse street. They had just reached a section of buildings on the street that weren't owned by anyone when a dark shadow leaped at them. Horace was taken down at once; Stefan ran on a ways before stopping and then turning around. He went back to the American President; his fist was gearing up to be thrown when a passing car's headlights landed on the pair that were struggling in the street. Instead of punching Horace's assailant, Stefan grabbed and then heaved the assailant up. He threw the man that he grabbed from Horace's body against the building that had once been a clothing store then held him steady; Horace got to his feet slowly a second later.

"Trying to get yourself killed, Ajeet?" Stefan asked the chief of the staff of his country's federal armed forces.

"No; after tonight, I'm seriously thinking about taking a lengthy vacation." Ajeet returned.

"Think a week can be arranged if you tell us where my wife and Miss. Irene are." Stefan said as he released the man.

"Two would be better preferred."

"With the likes of them Trolls and aliens in our country, I don't think so."

"I stand firm at two. I have a wife that's probably very emotionally and mentally messed up thanks to what happened tonight not to mention I also have two kids to explain the reason to why we're moving." Ajeet responded.

"You're needed—"

"Give the man his two weeks; think he more than deserves that." Horace said.

"Alright, alright." Stefan said after a moment's pause. "Where's my wife and Miss—"

"In the building behind me," Ajeet said. "The door wasn't locked properly—course, it didn't matter if it was or wasn't; your wife barreled into it like an Elephant."

If not for the little flame that Miss. Irene had going in the palm of her hand, they'd of not been able to see where the two women were or see where they were going; the building was darker than dark inside and it was freezing! They went in just in time. The Trolls that were, at one time, following them ran onto and then down the street that they were on. A quick glance noted that two of the Trolls had weapons drawn. Rosalinde was a hysterical mess; Stefan went to work in calming her quickly. When the Trolls ran down the street, they held their breath. One of the creatures stopped for a second after reaching the end of the street then ran on; once the creatures were past, they heaved collective sighs of relief.

Horace took charge in checking Angel over; he noted the cut to her hand quickly then he wrapped it with his shirt sleeve, which he promptly ripped into more than three sections. After Angel's hand was wrapped, they sat down. Rosalinde sat on her husband's lap while Ajeet and Horace sat on either side of Angel. Nothing was said between the five of them for the longest of time. They just sat in silence. The cold wrapped around them; with the shock of what had just happened still fresh, they didn't notice it. The events of what happened at the restaurant played out for them. It haunted them for all of twenty minutes before finally being put into the far back section of the file cabinets that were in their brains.

"Don't suppose you know where the others were sent?" Horace asked Angel, breaking the silence.

"A block from the restaurant that I parked my car at." Angel replied.

"And that was?"

"The MoschMosch Bonn," Ajeet said for Angel.

"They were all sent two blocks from that restaurant?"

"Yes,"

"We'll play catch-up with them in a bit." Stefan said. He said nothing else for a long time; he gently slid his wife from his lap then stood. He started pacing the area where they were sitting at soon after standing. "So," he said after stopping in front of Angel. "that was your husband."

"Yep."

"Charming fellow. Hope he doesn't feel offended when I _don't_ invite him over to my place for tea and cookies." Stefan said.

"Same here," Horace said.

"Ditto," Ajeet said.

Stefan paced their sitting area for a few more minutes before stopping in front of one of the boarded up windows; he peeked out of the one available space that was in the boards then, after seeing that everything was clear, motioned for them to follow him. After a brief moment of hesitation, they went out into the street. Instead of going back to get their things—Rosalinde's purse and their coats—they went to the MoschMosch Bonn parking lot. They chose the long way; it took them nearly ten minutes to get to the lot where their cars were parked. To their surprise, when they finally reached the lot where their cars were, they saw that it was nearly empty. Most of the vehicles that were in it earlier were gone. Stefan and his wife left without saying a word; Horace walked off after saying that he wanted to find his wife. Angel was just getting into her Porsche when a hand touched her shoulder. After all of what she just went through, she couldn't help the gasp that came out or the little jump that she did.

"Sorry," Ajeet said after she turned to him. "Didn't mean to scare ya."

"It's... alright. After what I just went through, think being jumpy is appropriate." Angel replied.

"Yeah," Ajeet tapped his fingers on the roof of her Porsche for a second. "Hope I didn't offend or make you feel uncomfortable during our dance. I really didn't mean for anything to pop out."

"You didn't offend or make me feel uncomfortable. I enjoyed our number on the floor, you're a right good dancer."

"Uh, well as they say, if you're gonna dance then you might as well have fun while doing so." Ajeet smiled. "Just so you know, I might not be able to be reached for a while. Got things to take care of at home—wife, kids, etc. You take care of yourself and them boys of yours."

"Don't need to tell me that. I'll be sure to keep good tabs on my boys."

"And yourself." Ajeet said.

"Of course."

"Thank you, have a good trip home." Ajeet said. He closed the driver's side door for his friend then backed away from her car. He waved at the vehicle when it was driven off a few seconds later then turned to begin his own search for his spouse.


	48. Chapter 48

From the Karlsruhe _Durlacher Blatt_ , February 28, 4101 (Page 1)  
Martial Law Dropped After 10 Days Of Installation

Citizens of the towns, municipalities, and cities located in the districts of the southern state of Baden-Württemberg woke on the 18th of February to see military action happening close to their homes; while it took a few hours to get out, the government announced that Martial Law was in-acted for the entire country after two waves of Trolls washed in through the shields that protect the communities located in Baden-Württemberg state. Heavy fighting was reported as happening near the shields that surround certain communities in the districts of Ortenaukreis, Freudenstadt, and Calw; the Trolls pulled out at noon, a short break was experienced before the shields in them three districts were penetrated again.

The Troll-wave, as it's called by the citizens of Ortenaukreis, Freudenstadt, and Calw, was able to reach the outside edge of the shields that surround the southern and eastern communities of Rastatt, the southern communities of Karlsruhe, and the south-western communities of Enzkreis before being pushed back. Casualties of German militants was said to be high while casualties of the Trolls was said to be very low; a number of casualties for our militants was released just last night—an astounding three hundred and twenty-seven brave souls lost their lives in the plight to keep the Trolls from advancing further. In stark contrast, only fifty Trolls were taken down. No numbers were given on how many of our military was injured during the attempt to keep the Trolls from advancing further.

Tensions ran high for twelve hours before our military went at it again. This time, instead of fighting for the southern-lying states, our military found themselves having to push four lines of Trolls that got through the shields in northern Prignitz, Ostprignitz-Ruppin, Oberhavel, and Uckermark—all districts in Brandenburg state—back. One of the Troll-lines managed to breach the shield that surrounds Berlin. Like with Ortenaukreis, Freudenstadt, and Calw, many casualties were reported but weren't disclosed until a later date. An estimated four hundred souls lost their lives in trying to stop the Trolls' advance.

Martial Law was put into action one hour after the last line of Trolls was fought and then run off. A strict curfew for all citizens was put into effect and troops were stationed in front of all of the shields in our country. Schools and businesses were closed. Until late last night, they have remained so.

The aliens in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve, the ones responsible for the heartache and headache that happened on the 18th of February, have been quiet all throughout this process, which makes many wonder if they weren't biding their time until Martial Law was dis-installed. Officials in Berlin decided to drop Martial Law after ten days of no activity happening in or around the shields, many are wondering if they did the right thing. Even though it's been twelve hours since Martial Law was taken down, many are still waking and walking around wary.

The Rastatter Rheinaue alien camp, located in early October of last year, was attacked the day following Martial Law being initiated; even after heavy attack, which spanned a time period of two hours, the area where the alien camps lie in the nature reserve remained intact. Very little to no damage was sustained to the camps during our military's attack.

"Walking around wary? More like everyone's doing turns while walking—we're all scared to death!" Winifred Smith, Horace A. Smith's wife, said after lowering that day's newspaper.

"The Turcotte's, Bradley's, Williamses, and Lee's are all thinking about leaving the country," Rebecca Smith, the older of the two Smith daughters, said as she took the gallon of milk from the apartment's fridge.

"Wouldn't be surprised if a lot of people start leaving the country." Winifred said.

"Shouldn't we leave too? Ashleigh Smith, the younger of Winifred and Horace Smith's two children, asked.

Winifred handed her husband, who was seated directly opposite her at the table, the paper. He took the paper, but he didn't look at it; he knew all too well what the front page article said. The first thing that he saw that morning was the news on the tv. Everyone was going crazy over the country's government making the decision to drop Martial Law. It was oddly quiet outside of his and his family's generously given apartment so he wasn't sure if the Turcotte's, the Bradley's, the Williamses, or the Lee's were moving or not. Some people said things but never went by them; fear was making a lot of people say things that they didn't mean. Same went with actions; fear was making a lot of people do things that they'd normally not do.

He understood the reason for why everyone was afraid; the country was invaded by aliens. The normal quiet in the country was shattered. Destroyed by the invading forces of one select alien that was hell-bent on disrupting the lives of not only one family but also the lives of many others. The sun hadn't even risen before the fighting began; he and his wife had only just returned from Städtisches Klinikum Karlsruhe gGmbH, the hospital in their new, lived-in city, when the Trolls started penetrating the shields.

Winifred hadn't had so much as a scratch on her from their ordeal with that alien and his Troll-minions; she had mostly gone to the hospital to give him support. He had a good many injuries on him; his minor injuries—the scrapes and scratches—had healed within a week's time while his more serious injuries hadn't. The concussion, the slipped disc, and the bruised, cracked, and broken ribs were all still there; he had a mild headache going on now, but his dizziness, fatigue, and sensitivity to sound and light were gone, thank God! He couldn't do much because of his slipped disc; he was on pain medicine for that, and the ribs. If he and his family up and left the country, or were forced to run from the Troll armies that invaded the country ten days ago, he wouldn't of been able to do much. He might of just told his family to go without him; better he sacrifice himself to ensure his family's survival than to slow his family up.

"Daddy?"

"Ashleigh," Horace said.

"We leaving?"

In a way, he wouldn't be surprised if the Turcotte's, the Bradley's, the Williamses, or the Lee's left the country. Victor Jarmen Turcotte, the man that he picked for his running-mate when he was seeking the American Presidency, wasn't a happy man when he and his wife got back to their apartment. The two were bickering something fierce after getting back; since everyone was already bedded down for the night, it was quiet outside. Everyone was able to hear their bickering. Like himself, Victor had also sustained a concussion; most of the man's injuries were minor. He only had the concussion to worry over. Victor's wife, Lillian, returned with a severely bruised left cheek; that was the only injury that she received from that night that happened ten nights ago.

Fear was running rampant, it seemed. He was afraid too, but he was holding it in himself. He was trying his best to keep his cool. Had been for all of ten days now. It wouldn't do him or his family any good in showing fear. It was best to stay strong.

"No," he said. "We're not."

"After what happened eleven days ago at that dance that you and mom went to, and then what happened with this country going to war with the aliens and Trolls in that nature reserve, we're not leaving?" Rebecca asked.

"Where can we go?" he asked his daughter, who was just as pretty as could be. Rebecca had taken after him mostly; she had long, naturally curly brown hair and deep brown eyes. That darkly tanned skin of hers had come from her mother, who was of Hawaiian descent. "Do we have family living on this side of the planet?"

"No, but we have money." Rebecca answered.

"Seventy-five thousand dollars won't last as long as you think it will." Horace said. Soon after giving the apartment that he and his family were given a good looking-over, he went down to the nearest bank to see if his accounts were still open. He had ten accounts; some with fifty grand in them, while others had just ten or twenty thousand. Of them ten accounts, only two were still open and available for use; a withdrawal of every cent that he had in them two accounts was made soon after they were discovered as open.

"It'll help us get out of this country," Rebecca said.

"Yes, but it won't keep us for long." Horace said back. "We'll need a place to live. We'll need some sort of transportation to get us from Point A to Point B. Bills will need to be paid, furnishing for the place that we choose to move into would need to be bought, food for the cabinets and table would need to be bought... what I have left in what I withdrew from them two accounts won't keep us going for long. We'd be struggling in six months to a year's time."

"You're a politician, wouldn't another country's government want you working for them?" Ashleigh, who looked very much like her mother. The black hair, the Hawaiian features... the only thing that she got from him were her eyes, which were the same color as his.

"Just because I'm a politician doesn't mean that I'd be grabbed and then put to work in another country's government. No, I'm as much a normal civilian on this part of the world as you, your sister, and your mother are." Horace replied.

"Mom and me could work until you're back on your feet." Rebecca said.

"Mmmm, that's quite an idea. You're going to keep down an eight-hour job while being in the tenth grade? You're going to keep down an eight-hour job while still wanting to enjoy your last few teenage years?" Horace said. He picked at his french toast for a second before pushing his plate forward. "No, it's best that we stay here. While things here aren't good they are better than what we experienced at Rushmore."

"No it's not!" Ashleigh exclaimed. "We'd be better off in another country. No Trolls to both—"

"So what happens if the Trolls follow us to the country that we decide to migrate to? All of our hard work in getting settled would be ruined. Down the drain." Horace said. "We're set-up here. We're secure and it looks like we're safe. It's best that we just bog down, stay calm, and stay here."

He pulled his plate back towards him then resumed the toying of his breakfast. Like with everyone else that was rescued from the catacombs and underground bases of Mount Rushmore—he and his family; the Vice President and his family; and about half of the members of the now former Legislative branch of the American government—, he and his family were given adequate living space decided upon the number of members per family. The apartment that he and his family resided in had three rooms in it. Victor Turcotte and his wife had twin boys; they had an apartment that accommodated the size of their family. The Bradley's had four children; they were given an apartment to accommodate that size. The Lee's had one child; they were given a two-room apartment. The Williamses had no children; they were also given a two-room apartment.

No one had to worry about furnishings; the government had set them up pretty well in that regard. The same went with food for the pantry—about a month's worth had already been stocked in each of the apartments that were being used. A check with the amount of a grand each was given to everyone that was involved in the move from Mount Rushmore to Germany; clothing and other essential items were bought with the money graciously given to them. Some of them had already gone out to find jobs. If not for his slipped disc, concussion, and bruised, cracked, and broken ribs, he'd of gone out to find himself a job. The country was being generous to them now, but it wouldn't continue feeding or letting them live on the hog for long; they shouldn't take advantage of anyone's or any government's generosity.

He toyed with his breakfast for a few minutes before standing up. He excused himself then left the apartment that he and his family were graciously given. There was a breezeway between his apartment and the one that was being used by Jose Garcia, the Utah Senator, and his family; he went down it before stopping, after reaching the fire escape that came down from the apartment that Leticia Capello, the Senator of Wyoming, and her family of four lived in. The cool breeze that was flowing through the breezeway—an architectural feature similar to a hallway that allows the passage of a breeze between structures to accommodate high winds, allow aeration, or provide aesthetic design variation—was welcomed warmly be him; it was good to be back above ground again. He welcomed just about anything now; the wind, the sun... even a few flakes of snow or a few raindrops were welcomed to fall on his skin. He wasn't one for bad weather before the move to the underground catacombs and bases under Rushmore happened; a lot of changes happened since May of 4100 with him—he now enjoyed bad weather. Even a good lightning or wind storm.

"Thought you said no more on those." Horace said after seeing and then walking up to Jose Garcia, a typical Mexican man with Mexican features.

"Owd habeets hawd to dwap sumteems." Jose, who had a dark cigarette in-hand, replied.

Bile was rushing downstairs when Horace smiled at the Mexican man who had once been the Senator of Utah. Angel was quick to judge her son's intentions for the day; the jean jacket, that had a skull on the back, was only half-on her son. A leather sheath was strapped to her son's belt—going by just the handle, the knife that was in the sheath was the spiked knuckle one. The one that Lhaklar had gotten and then given to him for Christmas. Her son had a vintage brown leather, men's satchel hanging from one of his shoulders; the top of his knife book—The Illustrated World Encyclopedia of Knives, Swords, Spears, and Daggers by Harvey J.S. Withers and Tobias Capwell—could barely be seen. The chain that went to her son's black metal pocket watch, that had a gold resin skull and cross bones on the cover, hung from his right front pants pocket. Bile looked ready to leave the house, a thing that he hadn't yet asked her permission to do. Using a little bit of speed, she quickly cut her son off from going out the door.

"And where do you think you're going, young man?" she asked her son.

"Out." Bile said. He tried to get past her; she quickly barred him from doing so.

"Out where?"

"The old festival hall. It's near a big field that's kept mowed during the warmer months." Bile replied. "Angus says that local kids go there to play ball."

"What're your plans when you get there, son?"

"Run Guyunis into the ground!" Bile said loudly.

"In your dreams, Bro!" Guyunis, who had just come down from upstairs, yelled. Angel was practically smushed against the front door when Guyunis ran into Bile, who was automatically pushed into her.

"Don't make mom into a pancake now!" Angel exclaimed. Guyunis and Bile both jumped from her.

"You okay?" Bile asked.

"Fine, yes." Angel replied after stepping away from the door. She took note of how Guyunis also looked ready to go out before turning her attention back to Bile's leaving the house without asking her permission first. "Everything upstairs in good order?"

What kind of question was that? He struggled to not scratch the side of his head; his mother seemed a bit strange that morning. Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer had already left the house to do a few things before coming back about an hour ago. Lhaklar had plans to hook-up with his friends while Hazaar had plans to see a movie that he was raving about and Lazeer just wanted to walk around; he didn't see why his mother was keeping him, or Guyunis, from leaving the house. Martial Law was gone; they could leave the house, visit friends, see movies, or play games, or buy things without running the risk of being thrown in jail now.

He was all ready for what he and Guyunis had planned to do that morning. The jean jacket, that had the skull on the back, that he got from Guyunis on Christmas, still had that new feel to it; the pocket watch that Lazeer had gotten and then given to him for Christmas was ticking away in his pocket; the spiked knuckle knife that he got from Lhaklar on Christmas was secure on his belt; and his knife book that he got from Hazaar on Christmas was in the satchel bag that he came across during his time in sifting through the junk-heaps in the Au am Rhein dump on the sixth of February. His energy levels were high; he was ready to give Guyunis the race of a lifetime yet here he was, being held back by his dear mama, who he loved so much, but who was confusing him greatly at the moment.

"Except for a few pairs of underwear lying on the floor, my room's in good shape," he said. He was being honest about the underwear part; he didn't say anything about the two shirts, or the three socks, or the pair of pants that he just threw down in his room. His mother might not let him leave the house if he said anything on them.

"Nice to know. I should tell you to head up to do a room-cleaning, Bile." Angel said after making a face.

"It's not that bad, ma." Bile said, trying his best to sound and look honest.

"I s'pose you've done all the models that you got for Christmas?" Angel asked.

That was a yes. He had gotten seven resin models for Christmas. Meg Mucklebones, from the movie Legend; the Giant Crab from Attack of the Crab Monsters—both of which had come from his ma—, a scantily clad cavewoman being "attacked" by two Velociraptors; a marine girl standing over a defeated alien beast—both of which had come from Lhaklar—; a representation of a female Predator; and an erotic and sexy as hell Sophie Pegaso—both of which had come from Hazaar—; and a Tremor—which had come from Lazeer. They were all done and up in his room; the Sophie Pegaso resin figure had a shelf all to itself, at the moment. The build-it-yourself knife and axe kits, that Hazaar had also gotten him for Christmas, were also done. He was kind of done with model building; it was a fun hobby to do when the weather was bad, or when you're cooped indoors because some fool's creating havoc and caused Martial Law to be in-acted, but it wasn't a hobby that he liked doing all the time.

"My goodness, Bile!" Angel said after taking in the boots that her oldest son was wearing. "You're all dolled up for something—you planning on messing up the carpets after you come home? Should I leave a wire brush out by the door?"

"I'll make sure to have them off before coming in, ma." Bile said. The pair of rugged, red-brown leather boots, that were on his feet, had come from his mother. Yet another Christmas present; one that he had only been allowed to wear a handful of times. "Promise."

"Same here," Guyunis said, trying to get a little attention. Angel saw that he was wearing the pair of rugged, black leather combat boots that she got and then gave to him for Christmas.

"What's in that bag, Biley?" Angel asked. When Bile tried to get past her, she gently pushed him back.

"Ma!"

"Answer my question, B."

"My book of knives, a bag of pot, two porn magazines... nothing out of the ordinary, ma." Bile replied. He also had the pair of brass knuckles and the turkey-footed handle knife—the latter, of which, had just been dropped off in that morning's mail—in his bag. He didn't want his mother to know that he had them three items on him—she might ask him why he was taking them out of the house. His explanation for why he had them in his bag might keep him and Guyunis home longer.

"That all?"

"Y... No. Got a few pairs of girls underwear in there as well." Bile said, trying to be both cute and disgusting. "Betty's in there too. Guyunis and I wanted to set her up then scare the motorists as they pass on Rheinstraße 54A."

"You best be joking on that one, young man." Angel said. She no longer sounded pleased or playful. "I don't much like you having that blow-up doll. I wish you'd get rid of i—"

"I am. I am." Bile said quickly. "She's upstairs, in my closet. She doesn't hurt anyone. She just needed a home and I—"

"I know why you brought her home, don't play coy with me." Angel said. "How long are you and Guyunis planning on being out?"

"Until lunch-hour," Bile said. When it suddenly dawned on him on why he and his brother were being kept from leaving the house, he quickly changed what he said. "Er, with your permission, we'd like to go to the old festival hall. We're going nowhere but there, we'll be back at noon. Promise."

"Permission granted as long as you two behave yourselves. Have fun; if you get into any trouble, make sure it's little and not anything big or major and be sure to come back in one piece." Angel said as she stepped away from the door.

"Yes, ma." Bile said as he left the house.

"Course," Guyunis, who was hot on Bile's heels, said.

She stepped out onto the porch for a second; the events that happened on the night of the seventeenth of February had taken a toll on her—she came down with a bad cold almost overnight... which she was still battling. She usually won her cold-weather illness battles quickly; if not for her Universal Husband sending waves of his Goblin army into the shields, she wouldn't still be sick. From the eighteen of February to that morning, it was Stress Time; would she have to pack her family and then flee to some other location that was safe? Would the Goblins down the shields, and make it possible for her father to claim Germany as his? Would she have to fight off the Goblins to ensure her family's safety? The Goblins had come very close to their home; the fighting had happened just ten miles from them. It was so loud... none of them had slept on the night that the Goblins came close to penetrating their lived-in town's shield.

She was honestly surprised that the Goblins hadn't whopped the day-lights out of the German forces. They had enough power in them; just a small wave would of been able to flatten any military force on the planet that she was on. No news had aired during the fighting—no one was brave enough to go out to get the scoop on what was going on—and, thanks to Martial Law, no newspapers were made or distributed. That morning's newspaper was the first newspaper to be handed out to the masses in ten days; the first two pages were dominated by what happened with the Goblins while the rest of the pages contained all of the normal sports, movies, town-gossip, and sales stuff. She bet a lot of people were cutting and then keeping the articles that had mentions of what happened ten days ago in them—Lhaklar had made sure to do that after the paper made its rounds at the table.

Mail delivery was also suspended thanks to the Goblins; with Martial Law being initiated, no one was allowed to deliver mail, much less go out to retrieve anything that was put in the mailbox. Once Martial Law was dropped, mail started being bundled and then shipped out. A whole mess of mostly junk-mail was left on her and her family's doorstep that morning. The only things worth keeping in their ten-day bundle of mail were Bile's turkey-footed handle knife and the two things that Lhaklar had sent out for, but hadn't said a thing about. If Lhaklar had only told her to be on the look-out for the model kits that he sent out for in mid-January she'd of not gotten angry at him; after all of what happened in the last ten days, she hadn't had the heart to ground him. He'd be allowed to have his 1955 Buick Roadmaster model and his "weathered", 1956 Chevy Nomad model when he returned home.

"This secretive side that you five have been playing needs to stop and now," she said after finding the two models in the mail bundle. "I don't mind any of you sending out for things in the mail. Just give me a fore-warning before you mail something out, okay?"

Her boys had all said okay then went back to their breakfast; Lhaklar had looked very "beaten" after her discovery of his two mail-ordered car models. It took him nearly an hour to ask her for permission to leave the house. She had a feeling that Hazaar's interest for the day didn't involve seeing a movie—no movie by the name of ArachnidAttack existed; she had surely not seen a trailer for such a title in the ten days that they were stuck inside. Seeing as her thirdborn was so adamant on leaving the house, she gave him permission, but she also warned him to behave himself. A threat of being grounded for two months was made if he didn't. Lazeer was somewhere in town; she didn't know if he was really taking a leisurely stroll or not—the threat of a two-month grounding had also been made with him if he misbehaved during his outing. Lhaklar's excuse in wanting to spend some time with his friends seemed true; her secondborn was caught on the phone with his buddy, Astor Bonnaire, minutes prior to his leaving the house.

"Can't keep 'em in forever," she said as she went back into the house.

She went to the living room then sat down. She had just started sifting through all of the fliers and magazines that were in that morning's mail-bundle when her cellular went off. At first, she didn't know who it was that was calling her. The number was neither known to her or in her phone directory; while she didn't like not answering a call, she was particularly wary of any number that called that she didn't know. It took her nearly a minute to decide to answer her caller.

"Hello?" she said after pressing the button that'd allow her to answer the call that was being made to her cellular. "Who's this?"

"Ah, hello. I apologize if the number that I called was wrong—an acquaintance of mine gave me this number rather quickly. My name's Horace Alexander Smith. Did I dial the Irene number or—"

"You reached the Irene residence but you didn't call the Irene home-number." Angel replied quickly. "You called my cellular number."

"Thank goodness!" Horace Smith's sigh was long and heavy, yet relief-sounding. "President Leinart, when I called to see if I could get your number, was very quick in giving me your number. The man's very busy at the moment—things at the office have him bogged down tightly!"

"I bet," Angel thought. She bet Mr. Leinart was VERY busy. Up to his eyeballs in paperwork and he probably had his office phone plastered to one of his ears; his secretary was probably also being run ragged too.

The Festhalle Elchesheim-Illingen OT Illingen, or Old Festival Hall, as Bile called it, was a very old building that, at one time, was lost after the third World War. The building was re-built after the war; its maintenance was kept by the people of Elchesheim-Illingen for many hundreds of years before the fourth World War happened. Care for the old building had dropped after the fourth World War; it wasn't maintained as well as it use to be. The building was now pretty dilapidated; its last use was on March of 3951—roughly a hundred and fifty years ago.

In stark contrast, the field that was to the north of the building was in no way, shape, or form dilapidated. It was very well-maintained. The grass was mowed at least twice a month during the Spring and Summer seasons; any bushes or trees that grew during the fall or winter months were pulled up and then carted to the dump; and any holes that were noticed were promptly filled in. Most of the time, it was the local kids of Elchesheim-Illingen that cared for the field; a few adults pitched in from time to time but, for the most part, it was the kids that took care of the field.

Like he said, the local kids played ball in the field. He hadn't really been specific on what type of ball the kids played; an array of games were played in the field. Baseball was a big favorite by the kids. So was "football"—he would be the first to admit that, when Guyunis said that he liked watching the sport, he thought that his brother was talking about the American sport, the one where an egg-shaped ball was used. He was in for a disappointing shock when his brother described the sport; football, on this side of the planet, wasn't football. Football, on this side of the planet, was actually soccer.

Foot races were also held in the field; Hazaar was hounding him for weeks on racing Guyunis. On seeing who was faster than the other. While Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer weren't there to watch them race they were sure going to include them in on the action—one of the three would make a copy of either his or Guyunis's memory of the race; the whole family would know what went down in the field later that day.

And, since they knew the issue of witnesses would be brought up—Lhaklar would surely try to make their race become null and void by saying that, since no witnesses were there to see it, it hadn't happened—Angus and Aubin were called. His two friends were currently ogling the turkey-footed handle knife that he snuck from the house.

"You selling?" Aubin, who had the turkey-footed handle knife in his hands, asked. "How much did this cost ya?"

"Twenty-nine ninety-five," Bile replied.

"Where'd it come from?" Angus asked.

"Custom Knives; a Korean-based knife company."

"Gonna be a pal and give me the address so I can ask for a catalog?" Aubin asked as he turned the knife over.

"Hell no, find the address yourself." Bile said. A smile spread across his face to emphasize his joking nature. "I've got the address on me."

"Gimme!" Aubin said excitedly.

"Hand over the knife and I will." Bile winked, then started sifting through his satchel bag. He took his book of knives out then opened it; the sticker that had the Custom Knives address on it was in the center of the book. He took it out then gave it to Aubin. Aubin, in return, gave the knife over.

"Hey! What about me?" Angus said.

"Wanted to hear ya mope before giving you a copy of the address." Bile replied. He gave Angus a hand-written copy of the address before putting the book, and then the knife, back in his bag. "I think I'll have another knife joining my collection in the next few weeks. Put a bug in my ma's ear about the knife, that was on the flier, that was in the box, that my turkey-footed handle knife came in; it's just as cool as the one that I just showed you two."

"What is it?" Aubin asked.

"It's similar to the knife that I just showed you. It has an Obsidian blade; the head and neck of a rattlesnake is the handle."

"Dude!" Guyunis exclaimed. "Serious? No-k-t pulling any legs or anything-k?"

"That's what the description on the flier said." Bile replied.

"Please, if you get that knife, show it to us." Angus begged.

"If I get it, I'll ring you both up." Bile said.

Angus and Aubin filed the address that they were given in their wallets then formed a line behind Guyunis. Bile had just taken his spiked knuckle knife from its sheath; he was gearing up to throw it at the trunk of a nearby tree. They all had knives on them—Aubin had his paracord, red-bladed throwing knife; Angus had his father's hunting knife; and Guyunis had his torched stag pocketknife. Since there was time before the race, they didn't see a reason to not fool around; they threw their knives at the tree for fun, then they held a little contest to see who could throw and then hit the mossy parts of the tree's trunk first, then they smoked a little of Bile's pot, then they did a little bit of wrestling before backing off to give Bile and Guyunis some space.

The playful antics exhibited by the four boys ran a thirty or so minute period; the ten minutes that followed that period weren't playful. The air that was in and around the field got a serious feel to it that everyone and everything in the area felt. Bile removed his jacket about five minutes after playtime ended. He sent it home via a spell; he then started walking around. Guyunis did the same thing. He was wise to stay out of the area that his brother was doing his walk in and he was wise in not saying a thing to his brother. Angus and Aubin, sensing the seriousness in the air, stayed away from them; bets were placed before their arrival to the field. Angus was for Bile winning the race, while Aubin had placed a bet on Guyunis winning by a "slim margin".

"Can I get you to be the timer?" Bile asked Aubin. His normally deep, strong, and powerful voice was heavy with tension.

"Sure," Aubin said. Bile threw him his pocket watch then walked off.

Bile walked around in a circle for another two minutes before walking off; he went about a mile from where Angus and Aubin were before stopping. Aubin, sensing himself needed, went with him. Bile marked a spot that was about a mile off from where Aubin had just stood with Angus before walking back; Aubin stayed behind. When the ten minutes that followed the playful antics of the four boys were up, Bile looked at Guyunis; they stared at one another for ten seconds before taking their places at the designated starting line. The two had just placed their left hands on the stick that marked the starting spot of their race when Rubacon Iovides raised the pair of binoculars that he was just given to his eyes.

It was by pure chance that he was there to witness what was about to happen; like with most of the Irene clan, after being cooped indoors for ten days, he was itching to go outside.

Most everyone that was residing in his wife's uncle's ship hadn't been bothered by the attack that was done on the area where their and their kin's camps were situated in; everyone went by their business as if all of the firings and bombings outside of their lived-in ships weren't happening. The Ubalki family had kept their own well preoccupied during the attack. Some sort of board game was played by Amadh Ubalki and his younger brother, Phaggo; a white/green onyx chess board was used by Cheshire Ubalki and his oldest son, Efagti; and Ashaklar Ubalki had kept her three daughters, Blaiga, Defe, and Qeeta, busy with sewing. The youngest of that clan, Qhuakiz Ubalki, had slept through the whole ordeal. So had his wife, surprisingly.

The butlers and maids that worked in his wife's uncle's ship went by their usual routines, and Eshal had either read a book or watched tv. Tazir was too busy in keeping tabs on his armies to show much worry over the attack. He was the only one nervous. He wasn't able to sit still a second, and sweat had practically been pouring from him the entire time the bombs were going off around the ship that he and some of his family were residing in.

"You were scared? Why, my uncle's ship was repaired three weeks ago. Nothing'll be able to damage it now." his wife said after the two-hour long attack ended.

"The same thing was said in November after Lhaklar escaped. Must I remind you of what happened last month? This ship sustained a lot of dam—"

"Let me rephrase what I said." his wife said. "Nothing on this _planet_ will be able to damage it now; little damage was experienced in the November attack because, in that attack, _human_ - _made_ weaponry was used. We were also unprepared for that attack. We thought that the humans wouldn't attack us. The damage done to this ship last month was caused by _alien_ weaponry, which is far more superior than the humans'."

"Damage was still made in the November attack." he had back.

"Very minimal, though." his wife said.

As far as he was concerned, damage was damage. It didn't matter if the damage was minimal or great; if something was damaged, and then repaired, it could be damaged again.

That was the only pleasant conversation shared between he and his wife; things went back to being fiery between them. They were fighting again. After ten days of constant, back-and-forth fussing and fighting, he was dying for a change in scenery. As fate would have it, Eshal and two of the Ubalki children were heading out. He went with them; Baruk and his two younger siblings, Bohir and his sister, Fleebe, and Gaajah and his two younger siblings had joined them a few minutes later.

Something must of told Baruk to take them to the spot that they were currently at—that or he had some sort of radar or activity sensitive device in his head. The youngster had led them to their current location about fifteen minutes after their exit of the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve. It was a long walk. Some of the girls—mostly Kaasa and Uevaa; Fleebe had joined in from time to time as well—complained while on the way to their current location while he and the boys remained silent.

Except for a few moments of verbal high-tension, the kids were very well behaved after reaching the area. Most of the boys went off to dig some holes—presumably, to either find some souvenirs or to make a little latrine; it was a long walk and none of them had stopped to use the bathroom—while some of the girls went off to look at the river. Phaggo and his sister, Blaiga, and Eshal went off to look at some old bird nests that they found nearby; the pair of binoculars that he had were Phaggo's. Phaggo was the one to spot Bile and the fellow that his grandfather-in-law continued to call his son. The young Ubalki boy had also been the one who called him over.

"Can I see?" Sudir asked.

"What do you see?" Selik asked.

"I can't see a ding-dong thing!" Baruk exclaimed.

"I'm telling daddy you said 'ding-dong'." Kaasa wagged a finger at her brother.

"I'm going to call my dad," Eshal said. She grabbed her communicator from the small bag that she had with her; she then looked up at Rubacon, who was just as silent as could be. "Bile was pushing that dark guy around when we noticed them; I didn't much like the "prance-off" that they did afterwards."

"They pushed each other then they pranced?" Bohir looked at Eshal for a second before turning back to look at the scene that was going on in front of him. "Could they be getting ready to fight?"

"We don't want them fighting!" Blaiga exclaimed after throwing her hands to her face. "Call your dad, quick! I don't want to see Bile get hurt by that guy!"

The unexpected, extra spectators to his and Guyunis's race appeared in a span of seconds; nearly all of the inhabitants of the Rastatter Rheinaue alien camp showed up. Angus noticed them; he got nervous for all of two seconds before cooling down after noticing that they were on the other side of the shield. Aubin wasn't fazed by the extra spectators; he kept his post well at the race's finish line. A heavy, chilly breeze blew through the field for a few seconds before dying down. A leaf was pulled from a tree; it fluttered to the left then, at the last second, it pulled to the right. In a way, the leaf was the flag that began the race; the two boys started running once it dropped to the ground. Aubin was quick in checking the time on Bile's watch. The race began at exactly 9:45 a.m.

"Bile's always been a front runner," Lhaklar would of said if he was there, watching the race. "Once a race starts, he's in front; no one can catch him, he's just a fast fart."

"Guyunis tends to be a little slow at the start of a race then, after the first few yards, he kicks it into high-gear. Everyone's left with his dust after that happens." Hazaar, who, as their mother suspected, wasn't watching a movie, but was with Lazeer, checking out the girls who were changing into their gym attire at Rheinwaldschule, would of said if he was there, watching the race.

Great clods of dirt were spat out from under their feet after their race started; Guyunis _did_ start the race a little on the slow side. He trailed Bile for all of ten seconds before drawing up even with him then, like that, he dropped back again. Bile couldn't help but smile inside. As he saw it, his adoptive brother was having trouble running and he wasn't fast enough to keep up with him. Guyunis was trying to stay even with him, but he was using up too much of his energy to do so, which was causing his tanks to drain quickly. He went on thinking himself the winner of the race until Guyunis appeared at his side again; Guyunis had only dropped back to allow himself to "adapt" to the surface that he was running on.

The two ran side by side for a long time before Bile found himself being slowly passed; this was a new thing for him. Not once had one of his running mates stayed with him or passed him by. He added a small burst of speed to his run right when he noticed himself being passed. Guyunis disappeared for all of a second before appearing at his side again. The two exchanged places for a while; either Bile passed Guyunis or Guyunis passed Bile. Bile was automatically dumbfounded by his brother; the kid had obviously gotten very fast since school. For him to be able to keep up with him, and pass him during a race, was impressive.

When they passed by the middle "marker"—the only real hill in the field—, Bile started getting serious with his running. He opened his gas tank then surged forward. Guyunis stayed with him for two seconds before dropping back. Bile's breath, which was normal and pain-free all during the first part of the race, came out hard after the middle "marker" was passed. He had just given out a little gasp when, to his extreme shock, Guyunis appeared at his side again. The two ran side by side for nearly all of the rest of the race; they added all of what they had left in their gas tanks as they ran the final leg of the race. Bile's chest and ribs started paining him when he saw the stick that marked the finish line; Guyunis pulled in front of him for just a second before he added what he had left in his tanks to his legs. He surged in front of his adoptive brother. He led the race by a foot, then two feet; when he ran past the stick, he was just barely a foot and a half in front of his brother, who slowed to a walk almost at once after crossing the finish line.

"Hot damn!" Aubin exclaimed. "That has to be a record! A minute and forty-one seconds flat! My eyes aren't lying, they ran a mile in a minute and forty-one fuckin' seconds flat!"

"Don't you mean Bile ran a mile in a minute and forty-one minutes flat?" Angus, who had tried to keep up with Bile and Guyunis as they ran their race, asked. He was huffing and puffing when he reached Aubin's side; it took him a lot of strength to not collapse after stopping.

"Guyunis was making a comeback near the finish," Aubin replied. "Think it's appropriate to say that his time in the race was a second or two behind Bile's."

The record for the fastest run mile on Earth, by a male, was 3:32:13; it was set in 4060, by a man named Carlos Guerrouj. So far, no one was able to come near or break that record. A woman by the name of Anastasiya Kazankina had the record for the fastest mile run by a woman; her record, which was made ten years after Carlos Guerrouj's, still stood at 3:50:45. If either Bile or Guyunis were human, they would of shattered both of them records. Angus and Aubin were floored by the results of the race; Bile had looked pretty well-matched by Guyunis on several occasions. If the race was a little longer, or if Guyunis was a little faster, the results would of been different—with Bile losing by a slim margin, or with the two of them coming down on the finish line together.

As it was, the two runners looked played out. Bile was taking iddy-bitty steps; trying to keep himself moving so his muscles wouldn't cramp or go stiff, and so his muscles would continue pumping blood to his heart normally. Guyunis was just standing in place; his chest was heaving in rapid succession and his body was pretty wet with sweat. It took only two seconds for Angus and Aubin to realize that they couldn't do anything to help their friends in their recovery from the race; they could stand around, keep an eye open just in case something happened, but they couldn't do much of anything else. Bile and Guyunis couldn't talk at the moment; their lungs required oxygen—to talk might deprive them or slow them up in gaining that much-needed oxygen. Angus, when he reached his two friends, offered the two water bottles that he had on him; he wasn't a bit surprised over their polite refusal of the water. It didn't surprise neither of them when their two friends sat down five minutes after the race's conclusion; the next few minutes were slow. Bile and Guyunis said nothing to each other or to their friends; they just sat and breathed.

When Bile and Guyunis were a little more rested up, they stood then addressed one another.

"Good... run, Bro." Bile said. He produced his hand for a shake. Guyunis took his brother's hand in his own; he squeezed it as he shook it.

"Though-k-t I'd pass you se-several times." Guyunis said back. "You're one fas-k-t cookie."

"So are you." Bile smiled. "Gave me a run for my money."

"Someone had to," Guyunis smiled back. He was giving his brother a punch in the shoulder when the ground under them started shaking.


	49. Chapter 49

They popped up. One by one. Old and then young; with the genders being spread non-evenly per person that appeared above ground. Kuruk, with his wife wrapped tightly around him, appeared above ground first. Duru, who's wife practically had him in a choke-hold, appeared next. Shaam appeared alone, so did Tazir. Baruk and Sudir appeared next, with Gaajah, Uevaa, and Selik popping out of the ground behind them. Shaam wasted precious time in throwing a flame-engulfed fist at the interior shield-wall nearest him; the ones that were on the opposite side of the shield came in at once. The holes that the Elemental power-wielding Surfeit clan produced were left open; the creators of them holes abandoned them at once. The eyes of each man, woman, and child were focused on just two of the four beings that were in the field; the Elemental power-wielding Surfeits had made a small earthquake happen with their channeling through the ground. With so many drilling under the shield at once, the ground had reacted.

Most of their thoughts were centered on just one of the four people that were in the field. Tazir was thinking about all of the pain that the guy had caused his sons to go through over the last year; Duru was thinking about the two fights that he and the guy had had; Trobrencus was thinking about his fight with the guy; Kuruk and Irka were thinking about the multiple facial injuries that the guy had caused their young son to have; Cyla was thinking about the guy causing one of her young children to bleed inside; and the Goblins were thinking about the multiple injuries that they had seen on their employers sons, all of which they thought and fully believed were caused by one select being.

Eshal was thinking two thoughts; the first was purely on her brothers—she missed them terribly! The second, though also focused on her brothers, revolved mostly on how the dark-skinned man could be disposed of. She thought about the man being frozen and then buried alive; she thought about her father beating the man to a pulp; she thought about her using her Acidic powers on the man—this thought brought up mental images of flesh being burned from muscle, then muscle from bone. She shuddered with this thought, but she didn't turn away or push it from her mind.

Bohir was thinking about this being the second encounter that he had with the dark-skinned man who sent his father and older brother to Zhiwanook Hospital; he wished that he could run forward then bloody the man's body. Really work on the man to pay him back for all the pain that he caused his father and brother to go through. Ashaklar Ubalki was thinking about Lhaklar's head-gash, Lazeer's facial gash, Hazaar's limp, and Bile's October-made groin injury. Cheshire Ubalki was thinking about his punching Lhaklar in the stomach in late-October; he still felt bad for punching his young grandson and he still felt like he needed to make up for it. Bahne was thinking about Angel; she was wondering where the mother of the four boys was and she was wondering if she was safe.

Only Shaam's mind was blank of thoughts. His anger, which was slowly growing with each injury that Guyunis had caused on one of his kin, was at an all-time dangerous level. Now that he was in the shield, and now that the man, who had caused his uncle, son, grandsons, great-grandsons, great-great sons, and cousins so much pain, was in his sights, he had plans to unleash it all. The whole bang; the hip, the bang, and the hiboolah. This pathetic excuse of a man, who wasn't only a boy but also his young, illegitimate son, would be wreathing in pain by the end of the hour.

"Your son's lucky. The signals that his brain is sending to his nervous system are increasing with each day; whatever you're doing, keep it up. This man's nervous system should be dead—fried, Mr. Surfeit. He shouldn't be sending signals to his nervous system at all after what happened on Earth. He should be fully, completely, paralyzed." the doctor, who was appointed to his son's care at Zhiwanook Hospital, said a month and a week after his son's admittance to the hospital.

The personnel at Bolshaviks Hospital had shown their true colors soon after his son's arrival; Duru could well of died last year—he could of kicked the bucket on either of his two trips to the hospital. If not for his uncle, his son's death would of been long and painful; Duru's organs were already failing when Trobrencus came in—the doctors and nurses at that hospital hadn't shown a care in the world in trying to get his son's organs to not fail. All they did was give him a chair then leave the room. They just went by protocol; they didn't listen to his son nor had they tried to do what his uncle had done.

A chunk of bone, dislodged from one of his son's two fractured vertebrae's, could of punctured one of his son's vital organs after his second trip to the hospital; a displaced piece of bone could of caused his son to bleed-out inside. The doctor's that were in charge of his son's care at Zhiwanook Hospital might not of been able to operate fast enough to stop the bleeding. Duru could well of been placed in a coffin and then buried under a sheet of dirt; the obituary would be two months old if his uncle hadn't come along to save his son or if the care given by the people that worked in Zhiwanook Hospital wasn't as great as it was.

"This man is extremely lucky to be alive! If not for the quick actions of the staff in this hospital, and his drive to stay alive, he'd of been in a coffin not long after arriving here." another doctor, this one being in charge of his uncle's care, had said on the day that his uncle was discharged from Zhiwanook Hospital.

The sorry excuse of a man, that was in front of him, was the cause of all of his stress! His son wouldn't of been admitted to Bolshaviks or Zhiwanook Hospital and his uncle wouldn't of gone through three weeks of hell if not for him. His son had lost nearly twenty pounds thanks to the man; of the thirty pounds that his uncle lost during his ordeal at Zhiwanook Hospital, only fifteen were regained. His uncle was still recovering from all of what he went through while at the hospital; if not for the man, he would still be fit and healthy.

"They were pushing each other around when Phaggo, Blaiga, and I saw them." Eshal said after they arrived to the area.

"Pretty darn hard too." Phaggo emphasized.

"Was it just Bile and that dark guy pushing one another or did the humans—" the older of his four grandsons asked soon after the exchange of information was done.

"They were all engaged with one another," Blaiga replied. "Bile and that guy pushed each other the most, though."

They were all wondering if the two weren't gearing up for a fight; just the idea of Bile and the man, who came within a cunt-hair of killing his only son and uncle, fighting had sent a chill rolling down his spine. The man had already been noted as injuring Bile once; they were pretty sure that the groin-based injury, that Bile was seen with in late-October, had come from the man—he didn't want to see his great-great granddaughter's oldest son hurt again and he bet the others in his slowly progressing forward group felt the same way.

Surprisingly, instead of fighting with their fists, they fought with their speed. The two lined up then raced; one of the males that were in their group had run after them, while the other had stayed in place. As far as he was concerned, Bile was and would always be the winner of the race. Bile was kin to him; his great-great grandson would always have his favor in anything that he did. The man that Bile had raced had practically run Bile to the ground. To him, the man was trying to break Bile's heart by keeping up with him, and by staying at his side for so long. He hoped that his young great-great grandson, who had so many more years ahead of him in life, wasn't broken. Bile had good blood in him. He had the right stuff to keep him living a long, long, long life—not including being evil and conquering galaxies, of course.

It'd probably take a while to get his great-great grandson back on track in wanting to go back to school and then pick up the conquering shoes; he'd still love the boy if he never showed an interest in being evil or in creating havoc in the Universe.

"Time to make even," he said as he passed KurukVile and his wife, then DuruVile and his wife, then the two older Ubalki boys, and then TazirVile. When he was at the front of his group, he started undoing the ties to his vest; with what he had in-mind to do, he wanted to be as intimidating as could be.

What ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, the illegitimate father of GuyunisVile Lytro Surfeit, didn't know was that he was _already_ intimidating Guyunis. Guyunis was doing his best to stand behind Bile, who was standing like a statue. Not a muscle moved on Bile's body; the sight of most of his family, and most of the Goblins that worked for his adoptive father, was so great that his brain had become temporarily paralyzed. Angus and Aubin were off to the side; the sight of so many monsters showing up on the said-to-be safe side of the shield was so great that they were paralyzed with fear. Aubin had a taste in his mouth that he didn't much like; it was sour, like sweat, and he couldn't get rid of it. Angus was near to pissing his pants in his fear; the idea of one of the monsters approaching and then splitting him in half made him want to flee the area.

Guyunis was wearing the same smile that he wore before his and Trobrencus's fight; like with the January fight against Trobrencus, this smile was a product of his fear. The Zombie-guy that he fought in early-January was in the group, so were several other Zombies; there were several others in the group that resembled his older bruder too. The leader of the group both resembled and didn't resemble Bile; he was bi-colored, like Bile, but he had a half-carmine pink and maroon complexion instead of green and yellow. His eyes were a glowing white color; the pupils that were swimming in the centers of them eyes were red and beady. The man, in Guyunis's mind, was a giant; he stood a good six foot, six inches. His body matched that tallness with plenty of muscular growth.

The man was slowly undressing his top half; the red vest, that the man was now leaving behind him, was right shiny. It had light red ties on its front. The shirt that the man was undoing was white and normal-looking. The man's jacket, which had gold hems and designs sewn into it, and which went down to the ground on the left side while only going down to about waist-level on the right, was currently being walked on by some of the younger members of his group. The man practically ripped his cravat tie—which was white, and looked of Victorian ascot style—from his neck after his shirt was left behind.

The man didn't mess with anything else that he wore. The pair of knee-high, red pants, that had three buttons on the groin part, with a short, silver zipper sewn in under them, and silver buttons going down the outer sides of the pant legs; the pair of white slacks; and the pair of dark red suede boots, that had a large, silver buckle on their sides, remained on his person.

What made the smile on his face disappear was the man's muscle mass. The man was huge! Slender from the waist on down, but very muscular from the waist on up. The man's arms were huge... overly muscled... the man had obviously not missed a minute of eating his veggies or in clocking in at the gym. His chest was just as impressively muscled; the veins, that bulged out from the muscle on the chest, were a shade darker than the side of the body that they were on. There was a thin, bristly line of dark red hair arranged in a T on the man's chest. A series of gnarly scars went across the man's right breast; they mingled in with the three or four scars that were on his stomach rather well. The six-pack that the man had on his stomach was tight and strong.

"Bile," Guyunis said. When his brother said nothing in return, he grabbed and then shook one of his shoulders gently. "Bile, can we g-k-o now?"

"Think that's a _very_ good idea!" Angus, who had heard him, said.

Liquid warmth spread across his groin, then down both of his pant legs, as he took flight from the monsters that were slowly approaching; Angus wasted little time in running, but he didn't get far before finding himself stopping. Aubin, who had also taken flight, stopped after the rock wall appeared around him, his three friends, and the group of monsters that had since stopped. Bile had only been half-there when he took flight; now that he, his two friends, and his brother were trapped, he took it upon himself to keep the monsters—aka, his family—from hurting anyone in his group. Guyunis had only gone two steps in his flight from the monsters—who were also family to him—before finding something wrap around one of his his ankles. The vine that very nearly tripped him up was tightly wrapped around his left ankle; he quickly disposed of it by incinerating it with a small fireball. He had no more freed himself from the vine before finding himself in trouble; a stream of white-colored fire was thrown at him. He just barely dodged it.

"Tazir," the man, who was built much like an upside down, triangular-shaped spinning top, said after sending the white-colored stream of fire at him. "Collect Bile. What's about to happen between me and that man isn't going to be pretty."

The Gray Alien-like creature, that looked so much like Lhaklar, stepped forward to do as he was told. Bile reacted by sending him jumping back. The ball of energy struck the ground twice; it made the opposing group scatter into two, separate groups. The alien, who had light blue skin and shiny, oval-shaped eyes, tried to come forward again only to find himself jumping back again. Guyunis looked at the older of his adoptive brothers in admiration; if he wasn't as terrified as he was, he would of hugged him. His terror was upped after the Trolls in the opposing group came forward. The Trolls rushed at Bile as a tight, compact group; they separated his bruder from him in an instant. He was instantly made vulnerable to the man, who obviously wanted to fight him.

A ring of purple energy formed around Angus and Aubin. It trapped them in place. Made them spectators to the carnage that was about to happen. Angus shivered while Aubin started praying; Aubin had just dropped to his knees when Shaam rushed forward. Guyunis sent two rolling fireballs at the man then got out of the way. While Shaam split one of the two fireballs in half after colliding with it, he grabbed the other one. He made a fire rope appear between his hands with that fireballl then he made a flaming ball; after attaching the fireball to the rope of fire, he swung his created weapon. Guyunis was sent flying after the swinging fireball struck him; a series of cracks formed on the rock-wall that kept him, his bruder, and their two friends in the area after he collided with it.

"Strike one of many, Darkie!" Shaam yelled.

Black energy currents wrapped around Guyunis's body; Guyunis screamed just as loudly as he could as the currents burned his flesh. The chains, the brand spankin' new chains, that he just found to replace the old ones that Duru destroyed in their last fight, melted. They added more pain to what he already felt. He quickly grabbed one of the currents that were around his body then, working hard, not wanting another attack to happen that'd cripple him or take him out forever, ripped it from his body. He shot the current back to its source; he then stomped his foot down.

He was practicing a lot with his powers lately; getting use to them, and finding new abilities that he hadn't yet been able to do. His Elemental Fire powers were extremely powerful now, so were his Elemental Water powers. Just recently, he discovered a new ability that he could do with his Elemental Ground powers—metal was merely dirt that was purified and refined; all one with Elemental powers had to do was work the impurities out of the dirt to make metal. He did that to perfection. The chain that came out of the ground had a sharp-pointed hook on its end; it went through his opponent's hand quickly. His opponent, who had just added some oomph to his black energy current attack, yelled at once. The man pulled his hand up, towards his face; he studied the chain that was attached to his hand for a second before grabbing and then ripping it out.

"You want to fight with the powers with which you've stolen?" his opponent smiled a most wicked smile before jabbing his left fist at the ground. "I can dig it, Darkie."

He made a blue fire-ring appear between his hands. He twirled it soon after making it; the orange-colored wave of fire, that was rushing at him, was caught in the ring. It formed a large circle before he finally threw it at his opponent, who, surprisingly, grabbed and then sent it back. A vortex of purple flames forced him up, out of the way of the raging fireball that had just been sent back to him. His vortex had only just started propelling him up when it suddenly died; an explosion sent him cartwheeling back. The rock-wall that he struck gave way at once.

"Guyunis!" Bile, who was currently under a red-colored shield, yelled. Guyunis looked over at his brother, who was very busy defending his own skin, then he looked at his opponent, who was sending a volley of rocks at him now.

The first rock was twelve inches in diameter; he punched it into pebbles. The next four rocks he grabbed and then melted into a lava-like mixture; he sent the mixtures back to his opponent. He then found himself in trouble.

The slab of rock struck him with such force that he saw stars; his nose was instantly broken, the corner of his lower lip was ripped open, and his right cheek was cut. He staggered to his feet after being struck by that baby, then he performed a perfect flying kick. The two slabs of rock, that had just been thrown at him, were sent back to their source; a vortex of red/white energy followed in their wake. He had just made a dozen vines pop out of the ground when he felt his inner body fluids slow to a bare trickle. The muscle in his arms and legs pulsated; he struggled to free himself from whatever his opponent had just used to make him immobile for all of two seconds before looking up.

"Let's see you steal this!" his opponent, who was a few feet from him, yelled.

The lava that struck his body was so hot... he couldn't help but scream; his hoodie was very nearly burned from his head. His hair was singed. He snapped his eyes shut to keep them from getting burned; he then started working on getting himself free from whatever power the man had used to make him become immobile.

His body was mostly made up of water, so the man, who was an obvious wielder of Elemental powers, had to of worked some sort of move with his Elemental Water powers to make his body fluids slow. He used what he knew in that power quickly; he tested the ability, then he used it after he started regaining some of his mobility back. He made his body liquids flow through his body slowly—so not to jump-start any of his internal organs, or cause any back-ups to happen—then, when he regained full mobility, he opened his eyes, and then his mouth.

"What?" his opponent exclaimed after he was free from whatever maneuver he had used on him. "That's impos—"

The power that he was afraid of, and that he didn't want to use, came out of him with such force that he was left with a brain-throbbing headache. His opponent made a wall of flames appear around him; some of the power that he used managed to get through the wall. It caused a series of sparks to shoot out from the man's body, but it didn't cause the man to drop to his knees or back out of the fight. The man came at him after his use of whatever unknown, dangerous power that he had in him had ended; if he didn't perform a split at just the right second, the tip of the man's boot would of struck his chin.

"What the hell was that?" Bile exclaimed after seeing the green vapor, that had an interior orange glow, shoot out from his adoptive brother's eyes and mouth.

The Goblins were coming into his quickly-made red shield in droves. His adoptive father was standing idly by; his orders were short, but to the point: get Bile out of the shield, then subdue him. He was using his learned abilities to perfection; despite being dog-tired from his and Guyunis's race, he was holding himself very well. He made the ground roll after ten Goblins ran into his protected area then he swung his fist low; the Goblin who just ran into his shield flew out on his back—his jaw would soon be discovered as broken thanks to him. The next Goblin that he sent out was one he recognized; Yhozah Impan Zultoa, the thirdborn son of Eldass Zultoa and his wife, Aboshi, was subdued by a flame-engulfed flying kick that came close to knocking him out.

"Move as your creator moves," he said to his shield. While he continued to fight off the Goblins, he started towards Guyunis, who had long since raised his body up, then performed a spin that cut his father's feet out from under him.

The Goblins went with him. The upped their anti in trying to keep him where he was; he sent as many as he could out of his safe zone as he walked on. When his shield was downed, he stopped moving towards his brother; the Goblins had somehow managed to do the very thing that he had hoped they wouldn't. Now his adoptive father—or his adoptive father's mother, or stepfather, or any of the other Telekinetic power-wielding Zetakins—could use his Telekinetic powers to stop him from fighting! While his grandparents and great-grandparents were also a threat now he didn't think he had anything to worry over with them; they were too preoccupied in watching his adoptive brother fight the very man who was his sire.

While whatever power his brother had used to temporarily subdue his opponent was impressive—and new, he had surely never heard, or seen, such a power being used before in his life!—he knew that his brother was horribly out-matched. He had never seen Guyunis use the art of Air in his training or practice runs before; while Guyunis was very strong with his other abilities, he really would of had an easier run in his fight if he used his Elemental Air ability.

"Guyunis! Hang in there, Buddy! I'm comin' for ya!" Bile yelled as he started landing left's and then right's to the Goblins that were coming at him.

A sheet of purple flames struck the wall of white flames that he had just forged in front of him; the explosion sent him towards the trees—the area that he wanted to go. As of the last five minutes, he had mostly taken up the offensive. He'd defend himself, but he'd also allow his opponent to beat him back; he was tired, sweat was just dripping from his body, and his muscles were begging for a break. If he could reach the trees, he could get a few-minute break. He could blend right in. He could snap his eyes shut then blend in with the shadows. After, say, five minutes, he'd run back out to resume his and his opponent's battle. He felt that he had a lot more to give. He didn't want to flee like a coward. He had his bruder and Angus and Aubin to think about; he couldn't just up and leave. He'd be leaving them behind if he did so. They could be hurt. The monsters could torture Angus and Aubin for answers and Bile might just be killed if he left the area.

He rebounded after being thrown from the spot that he was standing in; he threw a barrage of lava discs at his opponent—who deflected them easily—then he swung his arm around. The water in the foliage around him was ripped free from its sources; the foliage that the water came from withered at once. Dead grass and bushes lay in his power-ability of choice's wake. After he collected the water, he shaped it into a whip; he slashed his opponent with it twice before feeling his legs being swept out from under him. His opponent—who now had a deep, pain-searing gash to his chest and stomach, and about half a dozen burn marks to them same areas—pounced on him like a raging Tiger right after he struck the ground.

"Get ready for pain, Moitablokhan!" his opponent smiled wickedly as he started punching him.

He hadn't really touched his opponent with his bare hands yet. He had just used his powers to fight the man off. In this part of their fight, he found himself in such close quarters that only the use of hand-to-hand combat could be utilized. His opponent grabbed and then heaved him up; the man's fists, which were huge, landed blow after blow to his face and upper body crazily. The man spared no expense with them fists of his. His flesh was ripped or spliced open. Blood gushed from the new cuts on his face; he tasted blood in the back of his throat for all of a second before pulling forward.

He spat blood twice then started fighting back; his fists, while not as big as his opponent's, did their intended purpose well. A long gash appeared above the man's left eye; green-colored blood started gushing from the wound at once. The man was just pushing him back when he managed to open a three and a half inch long gash to his right cheek. He threw his whole weight forward after that cut was made; a small hole appeared on the man's chin, then a fist-sized indenture appeared on the man's left cheek. He had just sent the man reeling back with a good left-hook when he felt the remnants of his hoodie rip back.

"Get off him!" his new opponent, who was one of the three that he faced in late-October, yelled.

His new opponent pushed him from his old opponent strongly; before he knew it, there was a good ten feet between he and the opponent that he had initially been fighting with. He let his new opponent push him closer to the trees. He was laughing inside; the big man, that he was initially fighting with, was disorientated. He was shaking his head, trying to rid himself of his disorientation, while here he was, being sent towards the area that he most wanted to be at.

The point where he stopped letting his new opponent push him was when he noticed the Duru-guy coming forward. He wheel-kicked his light blue-skinned opponent, who had slightly elongated ears, that were a darker shade of blue than the rest of him, away then he sent a sheet of golden flames at his old nemesis. The Duru-guy dodged the sheet of flames; he seemed to be totally ignoring him. He watched as the Duru-guy collected the guy that he wheel-kicked before turning back towards his old opponent. He had no more done so before feeling the hard, roughened flesh of his opponent's fingers wrap around his throat. He grabbed the wrist of the hand that now had him in a choke-hold then kicked his foot up. His opponent just grunted; he seemed not a bit fazed by his kick.

"Keep back!" his opponent yelled at full vocal range. "Duru! Kuruk! Trobrencus! Tazir! Hear me now, if you wish for no one to get hurt you'll keep everyone well back from this battle!"

He yanked his torched stag pocketknife from his left pants pocket at the same time that Bile charged forward; his bruder was dragging five... maybe six Trolls behind him. He automatically knew that his bruder wouldn't be able to get to him, not with the extra weight that he was carrying and not with all of them Trolls still coming at him. He ripped his pocketknife out of his pants then slashed it at his opponent; his opponent howled then threw him far. He rolled after he landed on the ground. He scooted back a few feet then got to his feet; he raced for the trees as fast as he could. His opponent charged after him. His hair—so neat, tidy, and long—trailed behind him like a cloak; it wagged just barely within reach of his opponent.

He ran to the trees. His lungs, having never recovered from his race with Bile, sang loudly their pain-notes. While he wasn't in the best of shape to run, he did manage to keep in front of his opponent; when he reached the trees, he was quick to go deep. He turned a few minutes after going into the trees then snapped his eyes shut. He focused on breathing. On catching his breath and on taking the break that he so desperately needed.

"Whey you? Show yourself, Coward!"

ShaamVile lit the area up with a terrific fire blast; the branches of the trees burned, but the shadows cast by their main bodies kept Guyunis cloaked. ShaamVile, his anger growing still more deadly by the second, shot a series of fireballs at the trees. He kicked the charred remains of the trees that he just incinerated down then he repeated his former move; he was serious in looking for Guyunis. He had just seen Guyunis attack his young grandson and then his only son—that had added more fuel to his anger! The cowardice move of his opponent running and then hiding among the trees was both surprising and further infuriating.

Bile, he knew, was trying to come forward. While he was curious on the reason for why his great-great grandson was trying to come to the aid of his opponent he couldn't dwell on his curiosity; he had a battle to fight and then win. He had an ass to kick. He had many plans in store for his opponent; if only he could immobilize him, or beat him down or work on him some more to drain his energy stores, he'd be able to do them many plans. He barely felt the injuries that he had on his body; while he had a good many wounds to him, he neither felt nor cared about them.

He leaped up high, higher than the tops of the trees, then shot a vortex of red-hot, white fire. The trees that caught fire popped; branches, nuts, and the animals that were nesting or sleeping in the tree trunks were cremated almost at once. Guyunis flinched at the heat that was going on around him, but he refused to move or open his eyes. When no improvements were made, Shaam punched his fist down. The ground rolled forward around him; his family worked to get out of the way while some of the still standing trees collapsed. A lightning blast followed the rolled ground; Shaam did everything that he could think of to get his opponent to come out from his cover. When no improvements continued to happen, he stood still. He looked at the still standing trees for a second before walking forward.

"Where the hell are you?" he asked in a near calm voice. "Come out and face me." he went forward a few more steps quietly before speaking again. "What's wrong, you can face my kin but you can't face me?" his anger went up another notch when nothing continued to happen. "Afraid of a little pain?" when his taunting continued to not get anywhere, he stopped then bellowed loudly, "Show yourself, you Faggot!"

He came close to opening his eyes; the man was close, but he wasn't that close. He could feel the vibrations of his footsteps; by using a form of his Elemental Ground powers, he was able to detect where the man was and exactly how far away he was from him. His opponent was maybe fifty yards from him. He was closing in, but he wasn't coming straight for him. He might just pass him by. His opponent would step within ten feet of him, but he wouldn't notice him... as long as he stayed still and kept his eyes—which could betray him—shut, that was.

As he kept himself perfectly still, and as he kept his eyes shut, he thought about the festival that he, Lhaklar, and Hazaar had gone to ten days ago. He and Lhaklar consumed somewhere around three beers—Newcastle Brown Ale for Lhaklar, Old English 800 for him—and Hazaar did a little girl-checking. Hazaar had seemed more interested in the girls than in the music that was playing. He forgot how many times his younger bruder was slapped on the night of the festival; Hazaar had just been a crazy fuck. Lhaklar had liked the older, "lighter-sounding" bands—Beach Boys, The Chordettes, Queens of the Stone Age, and Little Richard—while he liked the rockin' bands—Slipknot, Rammstein, Hellyeah, Anthrax, Pantera, and Marilyn Manson. A spell was done to mask any alcoholic odors and/or drunkedness on them; overall, it was a kick ass night of good tunes—with good pyro added in to make the experience more memorable—, good drink, and either smokin' hot or good-looking babes.

If not for the Trolls invading the shields, and then causing Martial Law to be initiated, he would of looked and then gone to another music event; Lhaklar was looking forward to going to a classic car show—the type where old or "classic" cars were displayed and the humans did small tours or stood by then spoke the history of each vehicle that was looked at. The classic car show would of happened on the twenty-first of February; thanks to the Trolls, the show didn't go on. It was cancelled. His bruder didn't attend it.

"Mum was home when we came back," he continued thinking. "She said nothing on the dance; don't think any of us needed to ask how it went—she looked tired and one of her hands was cut."

If not for the Trolls, his mum, who came down with a right bad cold almost overnight, would of gotten better sooner. Her high-grade fever had made her sweat something awful; she coughed and sneezed, and her strength was next to nothing. Bile and Lhaklar had taken up matters in the house during most of her sick spell. Most of the house cleaning, the cooking, keeping up with the news, and keeping up with them had fallen on their shoulders. Their mum was still sick to that day; she had yet to kick the bug that had her in its grasp. While also being nervous—he knew how serious the situation was; the shields being breached by the Trolls hadn't been a laughing matter—, he had also helped in looking after her.

If she got hungry, he made and then took her a certain soup, or he brought her some crackers. If she was in need of something to read, or to listen to, he'd bring her some music or a book or a magazine—not porn; he gave her material that he thought was "mum-appropriate". If she got cold, or was in need of help in changing her bedding, either he or one of his bruders—it was either Lhaklar or Hazaar who joined him in helping their mum in this regard—that went up to give her a blanket or to help her in changing her bedding.

"Maybe I should get sick more often," their mum said on the fourth day of her illness. "You boys make me a very proud woman."

"We love you," they said in return.

She was on the sectional on that day. Her face was red and sweaty and she had still looked right sick, but she was trying to move around and stay out of her room. If not for the Trolls, and Martial Law being initiated, they'd of gotten her to go out onto the front porch, or one of them would of helped her out to where the semi-circle of currently not-flowering, yellow flowering Guayacan trees were. Fresh air might well of helped her along in getting over her cold-bug. She might not of woke up that morning still feeling sick if they were allowed to go out—

"Guyunis!... Ow!"

The burning branch, that slapped against his knee, sliced through his pant leg; a small trickle of his greenish-red blood flowed from the small cut that the branch made on his leg. A Goblin had made that branch slap against him; they were all over him— he could barely take a step without finding himself charged at. They were coming from all sides. All angles. Some were even jumping on him; he had one on his back right now. She—going by the delicate fingers that were pressing into the fabric of his shirt, he knew that it wasn't a he that was using him like a ladder—was trying to climb up towards his neck and head region. Thinking fast—but not wisely—, he threw himself back. He had just squashed the Goblin under his weight when an explosion happened from the tree line that he was fifty or so yards from. Guyunis, looking much like an upside down, flying Superman, flew out of the trees that he fled to five minutes before.

Bile got to his feet quickly; he grabbed and then threw two Goblins to the side then rushed towards his brother, who was grabbing the remnants of his hoodie up from the ground. Guyunis had just placed his hoodie on when another explosion happened; he and Bile were both sent flying. Bile landed hard. He cringed after his tailbone broke then he got to his feet. Guyunis wasn't so lucky; he landed right in front of Baruk, Sudir, and Selik. Baruk, Sudir, and Selik electrocuted him for all of ten seconds before fleeing, after seeing Shaam flying towards them. Guyunis rolled out of the way then got to his feet. He swung his arms up and then around; the sheet of flames, that came out of his hands, was a solid black color. Shaam reacted quickly by shooting his own sheet of flames at him. When their fire sheets met, a mighty explosion happened that was seen and heard by everyone that was in downtown Elchesheim-Illingen.

"You're about done in both this fight and in life, Coward!" ShaamVile yelled triumphantly.

"Guyunis... Teleport! Teleport now, Bro!" Bile shrieked as he sent a good chunk of the Goblins around him flying; the fire ring, that Bile shot out from around his body, was bright and loud. The Goblins that were sent flying never had a chance to get out of the way before being struck.

The white blast of fire that was sent in Guyunis's direction was split in two; Guyunis grabbed the two trailing ends of the blast that he had just split then started whiplashing them around. His opponent roared in pain after the ends of his attack slashed his chest. Shaam dropped to one of his knees for just a second before leaping up; he grabbed the ends of the two flaming whips then, in a single, tearing action, ripped them from Guyunis's hands. Guyunis's hands throbbed. The palm-length cuts bled; the flesh that was around his cut palms turned a charcoal-gray color at once. The ring of fire—which had a blast of black flames trailing close behind it—came at him so speedily that he barely had time to get ready for it. He decided to go by instinct in diverting the flames; he opened his mouth then breathed in. The fire ring—and its following fire blast—went into his mouth perfectly. His inner mouth bled; the tip of his tongue was burned. He dipped his body down before jerking it up, towards his opponent. The blast that came out of him had no color to it. It was just as clear as could be.

"Enough of this!" ShaamVile thought. His body was cut and bleeding, and his rage was causing him to tremble pretty badly, but he had plenty more to give.

"Guyunis! Use your Air abilities! Use Elemental Air, man!" Bile, who was now simply swinging his fists at the Goblins that were coming at him, yelled.

Guyunis tried. He really did. He tried to think up the ability. He tried to force it out of him. He tried again and again to produce air; all he did was make himself look retarded. Here he was, kicking and swinging his arms and legs, and not so much as a puff would flow or shoot out of him. Guyunis didn't need to be told that his opponent was an expert in Elemental powers—he knew, from fighting him, that he was far more advanced than he. He was struggling to keep fighting while his opponent looked still as fresh and as strong as ever. This knowledge was given a boost when his opponent sent a gust of super-heated air blowing at him

"Raaaaaaaaa...!"

His right leg was very nearly broken at the knee. The force of the super-heated air blast had made him fall back; he rolled a few times before being hooked on a leave-less bush. His lower leg, from the knee on down, screamed in pain; he struggled to get it unhooked from the bush. When he had it free, he rolled out of the way. Another gust of air, this one being blue, came at him. It barely missed him. When he got to his feet, he managed to send two, small, but powerful, water blasts at his opponent. His opponent's body shook violently after his water blasts struck it; the man that he was fighting wasn't fazed by them two attacks—he treated them like a refreshing shower and, in a way, that was what they were. The man threw fireballs, fire vortex's, water blasts, and air blasts and vortex's at him before making the ground under him split; he leaped from where he stood quickly then swung his arm.

To his great surprise, nothing happened. When he tried to attack his opponent again, he was met with disappointment.

"Guuuuuuuyuuuuunis!" Bile shrieked.

"Your powers are linked to your energy stores and your health status; if you're tired, or badly injured, you won't be able to use your powers for long. If you're fit—healthy—and uninjured, you can use your powers as you wish." his mother's teachings rang in his inner ears like ice picks; the reason for why he wasn't able to use his powers anymore became clear. The race with Bile had taken a lot out of him, so had the many injuries that he sustained in his fight with his opponent. He had little to no energy left to use his powers with.

He dodged two raging fireballs then found himself having to grab the very bush that came close to breaking his leg. As he held on—the blast of freezing cold air was near-hurricane force; he found himself having to overlap his hands to keep from being blown from the bush—, he took count of his injuries.

He didn't need to be told that his nose looked horrible; it was smushed over towards the right side of his face. How he was able to still breathe nasally was beyond him. Blood was just pouring from his nose; while he felt no pain yet over his nose he was sure that he would later on that day, after getting home. Blood was also pouring from the left corner of his lower lip; he hoped that his mum could fix his nose and lip—he didn't like the idea of having stitches put in or of having his nose amputated. His right cheek was also bleeding; the cut there was deep... almost to the bone! He had a bunch of other cuts to his face; his brow had three cuts to it, he could feel bruises forming on his cheeks, forehead, and chin... He was pretty sure that he was wearing a ring of bruises around his neck—his opponent's grip was pretty strong. He had cuts to his chest, shoulders, and stomach; the burns that he had on his shoulders, chest, back, arms and legs were already causing him agony.

He had to count his body fluids being slowed; he was lucky to be able to move—he could well of suffered from organ failure after being released from whatever power his opponent had used on him. His use of whatever power he wielded—the one that he feared and didn't want to use—also had to be counted in on his injury assessment; he was lucky to still be able to fight! The use of that unknown power could of drained him. He could be dead now thanks to that unknown power he wielded!

The inside of his mouth was bleeding; the tip of his tongue was burned. He was hobbling around, favoring his right leg, which had very nearly been broke at the knee. The palms of his hands were split and burned... he was just in poor shape! He was surprised over the fact that he wasn't a steaming pile of meat on the ground. His opponent had beat him up something fierce; how he had managed to keep fighting and stay alive was beyond him.

He couldn't teleport; he was much too injured. He couldn't run; his leg wouldn't allow that. He couldn't use his powers; his energy stores were next to nothing. He knew that Bile's attempt in getting to him was useless; his bruder had so many Goblins on him. They were currently all jumping on him, trying to bring him down to his knees. In a way, he wished that one of his other bruders would show up; he knew that Bile couldn't help him. His bruder had his own troubles to contend with; he was on his own on this one and he didn't much like it.

"Angus and Aubin can't help either." he thought as he dodged a purple-colored lightning ball. "Not only are they human but they're trapped behind an energy ring. They could be killed if they got involved!"

He was just thinking about his mum—about contacting her; getting her to come help him—when his opponent slammed right, smack, into him.

His already distressed lungs lost every ounce of air that they had in them; he gasped for air as his opponent picked him up. His opponent, who, from his current vantage point, looked like a wrestler, picked him up horizontally then threw him down; the yell of pain that came out of him was so loud that he bet it was heard on the other side of the planet. His opponent had done a move that he had only seen done on tv, where the professional wrestler would pick his—or her—opponent up and then drop him—or her—down onto his—or her—knee. The move was called the Backbreaker; his opponent performed it to perfection. While his back wasn't broken, he was treated to feeling pain course throughout his body.

As if having the Backbreaker performed on him wasn't bad enough, he was treated to feeling his ribs on the right side of his body being broken. His opponent kicked his ribs a good number of times before backing off. He was picking himself up from the ground when another kick was dished out; this one sent him flying into the trunk of still-standing, nearby tree.

"Did he break his back, daddy?" a girl nearby, who had long, dark auburn-colored hair, asked the guy that he fought in November and December.

"No, but sure wish he would of." his old opponent, Duru, said back. His old opponent pushed the girl behind him then turned and addressed his current opponent, "Good going, Pubba! Y'taught him long and good."

"Lesson's not over yet, Lad." his current opponent said back. A thick type of menacing growl seeped into the man's deep, loud, and deeply husky-sounding voice a few seconds later; his throbbing back shivered when the man spoke, "It's only just begun." the man stood like a statue for a second before flexing. His veins bulged; Guyunis could swear that he could see the blood coursing through them. The man, who had just said that he had more planned for him, did nothing for nearly a minute before barking out a name. "Tazir!"

For the thinnest fraction of a second, he didn't recognize who it was that called his name. He was a very busy man at the moment; his staff, who, if he did recall correctly, were given orders to not injure his son, had his son subdued, but only just barely. Bile was injured a few times; he had around a dozen or so bleeding wounds to him—his Goblins hadn't gone by his orders in not injuring him.

He hadn't really been paying attention to his grandfather's fight; he was too absorbed in his worry of Bile and in giving his staff instructions. His confusion over the situation claimed him right after Bile was "pinned" under a mountain of around ten or so Goblins; why was Bile trying to go towards his grandfather's fight with the dark-skinned man and why had Bile kept yelling out the name "Guyunis"? While true, they didn't know the dark-skinned man's name—to the full extent, that was—, he doubted if the name given to the guy was that of which his adopted son had called out. Bile was heard as calling the dark-skinned man Numbskull and that was what some of them referred him as. Others in the nature reserve called the guy plain Guy; others called him The Dark-Skinned Man; while others called him The Man. None of them knew who the guy was, nor knew his real, full name.

"Tazir!" his grandfather yelled again.

"What?" he yelled back.

"Have a Goblin leave the shield. I need a length of rope—about six feet—, a can of oil, and a bull-whip; they can all be found in my ship."

He told the first Goblin that he came to—one that wasn't busy in keeping his son at bay—to go back to camp then he turned around. Homsi and Eldass hadn't been involved in retrieving Bile; they were on orders to stand by his daughter. To keep Eshal safe and out of harm's way. While he didn't know the full extent of what his grandfather had in-mind to do with the dark-skinned man, he was sure that he didn't want his daughter, or Bile, around to be witnesses of whatever was about to happen. They had seen enough. They had gone through enough. Bile needed to be taken back to camp; he needed to be looked at and then after. A full medical check was in order for his adopted son; the full nine yards needed to be done. His son was injured in late-October; they didn't know if he was still injured, or if he had healed properly, or if he had lost anything during the healing process.

"Homsi, Eldass, take Eshal back to camp. Bile'll be following soon af—"

"She stays put!" his grandfather bellowed. "Bile can go. Eshal is to stay."

"She's been through en—"

"She stays, Lad! That's that, this man's caused her the same amount of grief that we've been forced to go through. She deserves closure, like the rest of us."

Bile's removal from the area was never done. His adopted son, who was a bit too muscular for his age, bucked at just the right second. All ten or so Goblins that were on his son flew up and then crashed heavily to the ground; his son ran forward, free as a bird in flight. Though tempted to use his Telekinesis to stop his son's progress he decided against it; he might hurt his son if he used his Telekinesis—he didn't want any further injury inflicted on the boy. Instead of using his powers, he ran forward. He barred his son's progress then he found himself in such a predicament that hand-to-hand combat had to be used.

The first two punches he managed to dodge. The kick was also missed. He wasn't able to dodge the third, fourth, or fifth punch or the second kick; he saw stars after being struck in the face then he doubled over after the fourth punch sailed home into his mid-section. He slugged a fist into his son's stomach—which was like iron! His hand was very nearly broken on that one swing—then he slugged his fist into Bile's face. Bile's disorientation was clear and he took full advantage of it; he grabbed the kid around the neck then kicked his legs out from under him. He was greeted by an arm wrapping around his left thigh afterwards. Never had the sky looked so beautiful to him! He was heaved up; when his body collided with the ground, he had no choice but to groan loudly. A quick kick sent his son, who had just started running towards the still down, dark-skinned man, sprawling face-first to the ground a second later.

"The second I get you back to camp you're to be started on a full-course diet!" he said after jumping on his son's back.

The Goblin—a female who had green skin, small, brown eyes, and warts on her chin and on the underside of her jaw—that brought him the items that he asked for was a young creature that, he estimated, was in her early adult years. While his attitude towards Goblins wasn't the greatest—over the years, he had learned to despise them for their over-loyal ways—he softened just a little so not to spook her.

Since Tazir was so busy in keeping/getting control of Bile, he took it upon himself to order his staff around. He ordered the older of the two Goblins that were near Eshal to come forward—which he didn't—then he barked at the other Goblin that was near Eshal to come forward—the same result happened. Neither Goblin obeyed his order, which added more fuel to his already dangerous anger. It took him nearly five minutes of screaming his lungs out before someone—a Goblin, that was his target species of interest—came forward... after being told to by his employer, of course.

"You a good thrower?" he asked after the Goblin stopped in front of him.

"Yessir," the Goblin, a rather spectacular specimen, who stood an impressive five foot, two and a half inches, and who had huge arms that were bulging in thick muscle, replied quickly.

"Good," he said. He snatched his opponent up from the ground then tied his hands together. After that was done, he grabbed him by the shoulder. Hard! "Kiss the skin on your back goodbye, Fucker. You'll be screaming for the heavens after two swings."

The Goblin, some guy by the name of Exasivoor Chente, threw the rope up and then over one of the thicker branches of the tree then gave it a yank. Guyunis was heaved up, slowly, at first, then with ever increasing speed. By the time the Goblin was done, his feet were no longer touching the ground.

Guyunis looked back, over his shoulder for a second; when he saw what his opponent was doing, he shivered. He looked forward then started counting. His opponent had a long bull-whip in his hand. He was oiling it, getting it ready for use. While the use of a bull-whip was new to him he knew what it felt like to be beaten by a weapon; Mathis Meyer Jr., his former adoptive fader, had used a black belt on him several times. The pain was bad, but the humiliation was far worse... and that had just come from a belt, a piece of leather used to hold a pair of pants up, being used.

His opponent, the man who was built like an upside down, triangular-shaped spinning top, had beaten him in battle... now he was looking to add some humiliation to what he already felt. It seemed like his day was getting better by the second. Spend some time with Bile's friends, then race Bile, then be forced to fight a giant of a man—who obviously had some serious issues upstairs—, then be tied up and flogged. Hip, hip, glory Hallelujah!

"Keep it in! Try your best to keep the screams in!" his mind told him frantically. "It's bad but it won't last forever; count to a hundred... a thousand, even! Don't think about what's about to happen to you; think about home, your mum... your bruders, or Sabine. Oh, look over yonder where the wind blows so freely. There are three new guests to see the rest of the happenings of Your Best Day Ever; think about them."

It was no surprise to any of them that Master Vile had shown up. The man had obviously been tipped-off about what was going on and he obviously decided to come around for the "show" that was about to happen. Vile had asked for them to drop the shield several times—kindly, at first, then he demanded that they do as he say before he gets mad. With what was about the happen, they were ignoring the man as much as possible. Most of them wanted to go back to camp; the women and children were especially unnerved with what was going on.

Baruk, Kaasa, and Sudir were huddled together behind their father. Irka and her grown daughter, Dara Dara, were facing backwards. Phaggo, Blaiga, and Eshal were hiding behind Efagti and Amadh. Qeeta and Ashaklar were using Cheshire's backside as a sort of shield. Bohir poked his head out from behind his father's back twice before pulling back; he and his sister were well protected between their parents. Bahne was between Bohir and Fleebe while Trivit found himself unable to look away from the youth that was dangling from the tree branch. Rubacon took the initiative to hide his wife behind him; an act that she went with fully. The female Goblins kept themselves busy by watching Bile fight with their employer and male co-workers. Cyla was on the fence; she both wanted to see the torturous act that was about to be played out yet, deep down, she also didn't want to see it. Gaajah and Selik were forced to watch while Uevaa was allowed to hide behind her father.

"I suggest that anyone close moves far and fast because here we go," ShaamVile yelled. His bull-whip was long. Menacing. It resembled a snake more than a whip. The oil applied to it had done wonders to make it shine. "A long list of crimes rests on the back of this one individual; five swings per crime shall do us all fine."

The area grew quiet. The wind stopped blowing. The sounds made by Bile fighting off TazirVile and the Goblins ceased completely. Master Vile stopped yelling for someone in the shield to take the shield down. If any of the children whimpered or moaned, they did so silently. A set of thick, dark, ugly clouds drifted over the sun—which was out all during Guyunis's and his father's fight. It dropped a few degrees; the former temperature was never recovered—it seemed to of sensed the horrible event that was about to happen.

"I, ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, sole surviving son and heir of RaalVile Dawlur Surfeit and Frahfrie Cloridona, brand thee for your crimes againt my family, Heathen!" ShaamVile yelled as he swung his whip forward.

The whip created a loud, resonant cracking sound as it zipped through air. When it struck Guyunis's back, it opened a long, deep gash; even though Guyunis opened his mouth, no scream was produced. The next swing produced a gash that ran down from Guyunis's left shoulder on down to his buttocks. The next swing, which produced that same loud, resonant crack, opened another gash on his back. Like Shaam had said earlier, he restricted himself to five swings per "crime" that Guyunis had made on his family.

For the crime of grabbing Selik by the neck, then body-slamming him, Guyunis received five lashes. For the crime of making Gaajah bleed internally, Guyunis received five lashes. For the crime of "breaking" Baruk's face, and making seven of Baruk's teeth fall out, Guyunis received five lashes. Guyunis pulled forward with each mark given to him, but he never emitted a sound; that shocked everyone in the Surfeit, Ubalki, and Iovides clans. Shaam looked to be putting every ounce of his strength in on his swings, yet his punishee hadn't made so much as a peep.

Bile rushed forward when Shaam started dishing out more lashes; this time, the punishment was for Guyunis fighting Duru. Guyunis was given double lashes for this crime. Since he and Duru had fought twice, two weeks apart, he received ten lashes. Guyunis received a further five more lashes for his crime in injuring Triskull—for the broken right ankle and for the severe burns that he sustained to his chest. Five more lashes were given out for Guyunis's crime of injuring Trivit—for the superficial wounds that he sustained to his face, for the cut to his left eyebrow, for the skin that was scraped back on his right arm, for the broken left elbow, and for the severely fractured left ankle.

Shaam was particularly nasty in giving out the next punishment; this one was for his uncle, who very nearly died after being admitted to Zhiwanook Hospital. The whip showed no mercy at all and neither did Shaam, who was now in a highly tempered frenzy. No one saw the whip anymore as it flew through the space between Shaam and Guyunis; Shaam was putting so much strength in on his swings that the whip's cord was lost in its momentum. Guyunis's back no longer looked the same; the cuts, bruises, and burns that had once been on his back were now overshadowed by forty of the most gruesomely deep gashes known to mankind.

It took all of ten minutes for the whip to stop flying. Shaam's body was a soaping wet mess of sweat by the time he stopped swinging the whip; even though the punishment was over, he wasn't satisfied. Here he was, putting everything that he had into his swings, and there was his punishee, who hadn't once uttered a peeping cry, scream, moan, or beg.

Shaam was slowly weaving his whip along across the dirt, moving it back towards him, when Guyunis lifted his head up. Guyunis took two deep breathes then heaved his body up from its slouched over position. This movement caught all of his audience's attention; it gave Bile hope while it shocked all but one of the rest of his viewers.

"Is that the best you can do, you pansy fuck-turd?" he said in a voice that he would, one day, use as a grown man.

A smile spread wide across Shaam's face; the signal that he was waiting for, that spark of defiance, had shown itself. It was now time to send that spark packing. Time to turn the man into a boy. Time to make the man cry. Time to make the man piss blood and urine. He ripped his whip towards him then grabbed the coil; in one movement, he set the well-oiled coil on fire. He then swung his whip back. He took three deep breaths then yanked his arm forward; the flaming coil, made out of the best leather hide known in the Universe, went across the space between he and his punishee so fast that neither he nor anyone watching could see it. When the coil slapped his punishee's back, he was treated to hearing the very thing that he desired to hear.

Guyunis screamed until his throat was raw. He choked twice between lashes then dropped his head; his eyes, which were closed all during the first bout of lashes, were wide open. He struggled to not scream again. His struggle wasn't won; once that flaming coil struck his backside, he couldn't help but voice his pain. He screamed four times then grabbed the rope that kept him tied to the tree. He tried to burn it. His attempt was in vain. The rope remained intact; the only thing that he was able to do to it was make it bloody.

The whip slashed forward a total of seven times; he screamed his pains on six of them seven turns. He shook his head; his hair fell into his eyes. He relished in the comfort that his hair gave him for only a second before feeling another burning, searing gash form on his already destroyed back. His opponent was really treating him well; he'd have a destroyed back for the rest of his life. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd be let go after this. Maybe, if his opponent showed a little mercy, he'd be spared. He didn't know what came over him to call his opponent a pansy fuck-turd; he wanted to stay calm and quiet—that was his plan. His mouth, and whatever was in control of his mouth, had won him eight more slashes. What else would betray him on that day? He shook his head after the eighth lash was given, then he snapped his eyes shut after the coil was pulled back; nine would follow eight—it always did and it always would. He heard the resonant snap of the whip, then he heard the air rushing in to fill the space that the coil had vacated. He pictured his mother as the whip finished its ninth swing at the same time that he cringed; her beauty, her sweet nature, would she still love him after this? Would she look at his destroyed back then lose all love for him or would she see his ruined back and flip?

His cringe came at just the right second when the flaming whip struck flesh, but it wasn't his flesh that was burned or broken and it wasn't his scream that sounded the heavens. He opened his eyes at the same time that something heavy and hard fell against him. The rope that bound him to the tree severed cleanly; the momentum of whoever it was that fell against him had proven too much for it. When he collided with the ground, he started crying; it was an instant, glorious feeling! Tears, so salty, yet so sweet, flowed from his eyes quickly. He pushed himself up then halfway around while enjoying them tears; if he could, he would of embraced the wetness that was coming from his eyes.

"B-B-Biiiiiii-l-l-l-luh?" he sobbed his brother's name after rolling over to his side.

He couldn't say a thing! The pain... the deep, searing pain that he felt in his shoulder, chest, and upper stomach region was bad enough to make him want to curl into a tight ball! He had only just been able to get to his brother; Guyunis had taken all of the abuse that he could before finally cracking... He had taken the last swing. He felt proud of that, but shame over the rest of what happened that morning. Up to two minutes ago, he had forgotten all about his being able to flip the ground. He could of stopped or prevented all of this from happening by simply jabbing his hand or fist at the ground. The ground would of flipped under all of Guyunis's tormentors. Guyunis would of been spared. Instead of flipping the ground, he warred with the Goblins and his adoptive father—who was now promising that he would be put on a full-course diet that would cause him to lose weight and muscle mass.

His adoptive father was sent out of the shield first; the man was still on the other side of the shield. Angus and Aubin were sent away to a safer area—he wouldn't blame or look down on them if they ran shrieking for their mama's or papa's. Around forty or so Goblins were sent out of the shield next. His sister and most of the spectators were sent out of the shield after them... Why the hell hadn't he sent Shaam out of the shield before any of them other people? Instead of flipping the ground under his great-great grandfather's feet, he rushed forward; the last swing of the flaming whip had struck him full-force on the shoulder, chest, and upper stomach right after he stepped in front of his brother's broken body. What did he do after feeling the searing heat of the whip slice into his shoulder, chest, and stomach? Scream his lungs out then fall back. His feet had just lost traction with the ground. His weight had taken him back. In a way, it was his and Guyunis's combined weights that took the rope out.

He had a nine-inch long gash on his body now. It went from his right shoulder on down to the center of his chest then on down to the left side of his upper stomach. His flesh on them parts of his body sang. The burning sensation from being whipped was bad enough; the burn from the flames made that sensation much much worse.

"Hey, Guy...unis." he finally managed to say.

The sound of footsteps coming towards them was loud; he pushed his aching body up, then he found himself falling back after the tall, menacing form of his great-great grandfather loomed over him. He pushed his body over; nearly on top of Guyunis now—he and his adoptive brother might as well be called Siamese twins. His great-great grandfather, who sported a good many injuries on him, loomed over them for a few seconds before crouching down. The anger—dark, blazing, volcanic—was eminent in the man's eyes. The man looked about ready to tear both of them a new asshole—or, in Guyunis's case, into more pieces. The whip that the man used on his brother was snaked out behind him; the flame was still going—how the man was able to keep his grip on the whip's handle was beyond him.

"You step into this, you deserved what you got." his great-great grandfather said. His voice had a heavy, menacing growl to it. "Get out of the way, Bile."

"Fuh-k you," Bile said back.

"Do as I tell you, Lad! This is between he and me. Not he, me, and you."

"Again, fuck you."

Bile's left leg shot up; Shaam had just stepped into a designated danger area—Bile took full advantage of the opportunity that he was given. The toe of his rugged, red-brown leather boot dug in deep in Shaam's groin. Shaam's mouth dropped instantly; the whip dropped to the ground slowly as the man reached for the area that had just been so cruelly—yet justifiably—treated. Bile wasted not a second in stomping the same foot that he used to kick the man with. The ground, right under his great-great grandfather, flipped. ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, the man who spent the better part of twenty minutes beating and then torturing his unknown, young illegitimate son, disappeared. He reappeared on the other side of the shield; quite a many people started swarming around him as Bile got to his feet.

"Come on," Bile said. He gently helped his brother to his feet, he then swung one of his brother's arms over his shoulders. "Let's get out of here."

"Mum,"

"She'll have a cow but she won't get mad at us." Bile replied. He pushed Guyunis's hair out of his face then slowly started the process of walking forward.

"Telepor-k-t?" Guyunis said two minutes later, after the shock of what he just went through—of what he just survived going through—started setting in. "Can you teleport?"

"Wanted to see if you could walk before teleporting us home, Bro." Bile said.

Shaam was just getting to his feet when the two teleported; the roar of rage that came out of him was so loud that Angel Irene, who was just then getting off the phone with Horace A. Smith, who had told her that not only was he, but everyone else in his group of refugees, staying put in Germany, heard it.


	50. Chapter 50

The door to their abode was kicked in with such force that she, and her three sons, who were currently upstairs, minding their own business, jumped. The first thing that ran through her mind, after the door was kicked in, was that a burglar had come in. Someone had come in by force and was now looking to steal their stuff—and inflict pain on whoever got in his, or her, way. There were bits and pieces of wood all over the hallway that came off the foyer; the frame of the door had, more or less, been shattered after the door was kicked in. After jumping for the ceiling, she stood; here she was, reading one of the books that Guyunis had, yet again, left in the kitchen. She still felt a little ill and, seeing as the book was out in the open, she had decided to grab it then do a little reading. Who knew, maybe some reading would help her to feel a little better. She had no more stood before the house was flooded with a chorus of screams, all coming from the oldest of her biological children.

"Ma!" Bile's scream echoed throughout the house; the neighbors around them either came out of their residences to see what was going on or stood from their outside activities. The book that she had in her hands fell to the floor; never had she heard her son scream like that—she automatically knew that something was very, very wrong. "Ma! Ma! Maaaaaa!"

"Bile?"

She left the living room quickly. Almost too quickly. She came close to barreling into her oldest son, who, at first, she didn't recognize. Bile's face wore a cloak of terror. He looked terrified and he also looked to of been in a fight. There were cuts all over her son's face. The bruises that were forming around her son's eyes, on his cheeks, and chin were already too dark and ugly. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Bile; the scream that sounded through the house was much louder than Bile's. When she saw who her son was carrying, she just couldn't help herself; it was a scream that only a mother, who had just come upon a child of hers that was very badly injured, could emit.

"What happened?"

She went towards her two sons. Bile stopped; he allowed her to give his carry-on baggage—a child who, earlier that morning, had looked perfectly fine, normal, and healthy—a quick once over before starting forward again. Angel followed behind him for a few seconds before gently—and carefully—maneuvering herself around him. She took Guyunis's free arm; she threw the arm over her shoulder then she steered her two boys towards the stairs.

"Lhaklar!" Angel yelled. She stopped long enough to gently take Guyunis's right arm from around Bile's shoulders. When Bile started protesting—started acting like the protective, older brother that she knew he was—, she yelled for her secondborn more urgently.

Lhaklar came downstairs as fast as he could—which, by standards of what was currently going on downstairs, wasn't quite fast enough. He had a good morning. Had hung out with Astor, and then Seth, for a little while before coming home to help his mother in doing whatever she wanted done with the house. He was surprised to find her sitting on the sectional couch. The book that Guyunis left on the kitchen counter that morning was open; about forty or so pages were read. Nothing was in dire need of doing in the house; she told him that he could either go back out or go upstairs to work on one of the new models that he received in the mail bundle that morning. About ten percent of his "weathered", 1956 Chevy Nomad model was done; the engine and undercarriage just needed to dry before he could start in on the main body. Instead of just starting on the main body, or getting a head-start on the other model that he also got in the mail that morning, he grabbed and then started to look at the mostly pornographic book that he got from Hazaar on Christmas. That was what he was still doing when his mother started yelling for him. He zipped his pants while racing across his room then he charged down the second level's hallway. He came close to tripping in going down the stairs twice; when he reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped dead in his tracks. His O-shaped mouth dropped instantly—the sight before him looked like something out of a horror movie! He couldn't help the notion of wanting to go back up to his room; he wanted to jump into bed then cover himself up with his bedding. If not for his mother, he would of done just that.

"Take Bile into the dining room." his mother said. She flashed a pair of luke-warm, warning eyes at him when he continued to stand by the stairs. "Now, Lhaklar!"

They wrestled Bile from Guyunis then went their separate ways; his mother went upstairs, while he dragged Bile into the dining room. The first thing that he did, after getting Bile in the dining room, was turn him around. So he wouldn't face the open doorway, or be tempted to run towards it. Bile threw him off twice; he turned halfway around on both throwings, but he didn't leave the room. After thirty seconds passed, he chanced grabbing and then pulling his brother towards the table; he forced Bile to sit in his accustomed chair then, after taking a moment to think over what he saw, he sat across from him.

"What happened?" he asked after sitting down.

With her adopted son being in the condition that he was in, the progress in going up the stairs was slow. She tried her best to be careful with him—his entire body was wet and sticky with his discharged blood and his movements were very stiff. She didn't need to be told that he was hurting; no one could go through getting injuries like the ones that her young son had and not feel pain. If Guyunis wasn't feeling pain he would be later on, after the shock of whatever foul, horrible act that befell him wore off.

Hazaar and Lazeer were in the upstairs hallway when she and Guyunis reached the top of the stairs; her two, younger sons gaped at them before moving out of the way. She thanked them then slowly started taking Guyunis to her bedroom.

While Guyunis's bedroom was closer, she didn't think that he wanted her to take him to it. Nine times out of ten, whenever one of her boys wasn't feeling well, or came home injured or badly frightened, she'd find them milling around her room. Her room was much like a security blanket to her sons—her presence was there. Whenever they needed or wanted her, and she wasn't there, they'd go up to her room to get a little bit of comfort from an area that she spent time in. It was perfectly normal and natural for a child to do that and she had never, not once, told her sons to not go into her room when they felt a need to do so. Guyunis didn't protest in her taking him past his bedroom, or in her taking him to her room; while he wasn't quiet by a long shot, he didn't say where he wanted to go. He just went where she took him.

She took him into her room then straight up to her bed; she didn't care if her bedding was messed up. If the blood didn't wash out then she'd throw it all away. Her son's care was more important than her bed clothes. She placed him on her bed slowly, so not to aggravate any of his injuries, then she stepped back. Her adopted son was in a seated position on her bed for only a second before falling back; his strength just evaporated—he couldn't keep himself seated. He fell back onto her bed quickly then burst into a fresh set of tears. He was just starting to put in a mild struggle in turning to his side when she went to him; she helped him to his side then she jabbed her knuckle into her mouth. Her scream of horror became a small moan at once.

"Bile could NOT of done this!" her mind told her. "While they've had fights before they've never gone as far as this."

Bile had said something about "running Guyunis into the ground" earlier, when they left the house; could Guyunis of beaten his brother in whatever thing they did then get the sour side of the victor's winnings? Bile had sure acted protective of Guyunis downstairs—she and Lhaklar had to wrestle him from the poor boy! Bile couldn't of done all of this to her adopted son; she knew her oldest child well. While he was a big boy, and while he took his fights seriously, he'd never tear his opponents apart or inflict as much damage as that of what was on Guyunis's body.

Not to mention, Bile adored Guyunis. They were as thick as could be. Bile wouldn't of hurt him like this.

"Guyunis is nearly the same size as Bile—they both make three humans. No human could of done this... not even a body-builder or a super-mean biker." her mind continued.

She was instantly reminded of what she went through before her children were born. She was chained to a wooden post then beaten with a whip; her father and grandfather had joined up in destroying her body—her father had done her back with the whip then her grandfather had taken over. Her front side was lashed with a different type of whip—a Cat o' Nine tails, that had razor blades attached to the leather strands. After the whipping had come the torture with a heated poker then some magic candles—the heated poker was used between her legs while the candles were used on her top half... or, more specifically, the nipples of her breasts. Her hair was then snipped off. A brand being applied to her neck had ended that part of her torture. Being raped by her father had been the next part.

This brutal past of hers was only brought out due to Guyunis's vast injuries. At first, he resembled her after that brutal ordeal ended then, after a quick blink of the eyes, she saw that he didn't resemble it. Guyunis, her dear, sweet, and very much loved adopted son, looked horrible! He looked to of gone through a few rounds with a meat grinder, his body was that badly injured!

Her adopted son's snub-like nose was over on the right side of his face; it was severely broken. The blood that was flowing from her son's broken nose made his nose take on a resemblance to a waterfall. The left corner of her son's lower lip was slit; blood was slowly trickling from that wound. There was a gnarly gash to his right cheek; to the naked eye, it looked to be a to-the-bone type of cut. He had a bunch of other cuts to his face as well, but it was mainly those two that were still bleeding. The three cuts to his brow were also bleeding, slowly but surely. The skin on his cheeks, chin, and forehead was turning a dark red to medium-red color—bruises; her son's face was already starting to bruise up.

There were many dark red to medium-red rings around his neck; he had mild and major cuts and burns on his chest, shoulders, and stomach. Them injuries weren't the ones that made her think of her past. Of her ordeal in being whipped and then tortured by her father and grandfather. It was his ruined back that made her past be thought of.

The lash-marks were deep and there were plenty of them! She could fit the first joint of each of her fingers in each of the marks that were on her son's back. Some of the marks were clean, as if nothing but a piece of rounded leather was used. The lashes that she looked at the longest were the ones that had a singed/burned outer edge. What in the world had happened to her sweet boy? She shook her head then slowly sat beside her son, who was now trying to hide his face from her.

"G," she said. Before she could say anything else, her son bucked—it was weak, but that was what it was, a buck.

"Go away! Don-k-t look a-k-t me!" her son said, strongly, yet also painfully.

He said that again and again before she finally saw that there were two little peekers looking in her room. She got up then went towards her open doorway. Hazaar and Lazeer ran off immediately; while she knew that they were curious, she also knew that the time for being curious wasn't now. Guyunis needed her. Guyunis's many injuries needed to be assessed and then treated. Guyunis needed some time to himself to get over the emotional side that would soon sweep over him. She closed her bedroom door then went back to her son, who slowly rose his face up from the comforter that was on her bed.

His hair was in his face. She reached over then gently, and carefully, brushed it back. Her son blinked his eyes—which, she now noticed, were surrounded by single rings of dark red flesh—before dropping his head back to her bed. She let him lie on her bed for a few minutes before asking the one, serious question that she wanted him to answer.

"You want the hospital or a healing session?"

"You," he replied.

Normal parents that didn't utilize or knew magic would whisk their injured children to a hospital. No questions would of been asked; they'd just grab the phone, make the call, then sit by until the ambulance came by. She would of made the call if he had said for her to. It wouldn't of hurt her any to call the number for the hospital; Guyunis was so badly injured... He really _did_ belong in a hospital.

She left her room for a minute. When she returned, she had a small tub of water with her. She used her Water Healing abilities to treat the wounds on her son's face and front side then she asked him to roll over to his stomach. While her Water Healing abilities hadn't healed all of the wounds that her son had on his front side, it had healed them enough so that they were closed. The lash marks to her son's back were a bit more extreme than his front side injuries—she automatically knew that her Healing abilities wouldn't heal them completely. At most, her Healing abilities might close the wounds partially. She'd need bandaging and a lot of it to ensure that her son's injured back wasn't harmed by infections or materials that could well injure him further.

His nose went from being severely broken to normal. Some of his facial bruises, and all of his minor facial cuts, disappeared. The deep cut to his cheek and the three cuts to his brow were half-healed. Two of the four second degree and one of the five third degree burns on her son's front side dropped in severity; the deep cuts to her son's chest closed only halfway, as did the slit that was in the left corner of her son's lower lip.

There were two wounds that she was never able to heal. The bruises to her son's neck were too deep; even after a near, ten minute session, they wouldn't go away or drop in color. Her son exposed the palms of his hands during his attempt in rolling over to his stomach; she stopped him long enough to examine the wounds. Both of Guyunis's palms were cut; the area that was around the cuts was a dark gray, charcoal color. She used her Healing abilities as best she could on his hands right after examining them. After five minutes of trying to heal his hands she sighed; she'd have to wrap her son's hands after finishing with his back.

"Want me to help you to your room after I'm finished wrapping you or do you wish to stay here?" she asked after retrieving a few rolls of bandaging from the bathroom down the hall.

"Stay here," her son replied.

"You'll look like a half-dressed mummy after I'm done." she said after helping him to a seated position. She started wrapping the first roll of bandaging around him; it took the whole roll to get just the first quarter of his backside concealed. "Hold your hands up, towards the ceiling. I'll get to them in just a bit."

"Who's Rubacon?"

At first, she was puzzled by his question. Guyunis had never met Rubacon before in his life, so he shouldn't know his name. She wrapped the second roll of bandaging around her son's back before answering the question presented to her.

"He's the husband of TulaVile Arlonia Surfeit. They live on Mooshang, one of the more distant planets in the M-51 Galaxy. They have a daughter." she replied.

"He my dat?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"Wha-k-t about Triskull?"

She was puzzled by this third question of his; Guyunis was the son of ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit and Lisa Ann Wahlberg, not Rubacon Iovides or any other male in the Universe. Like with Rubacon, Guyunis shouldn't know Triskull's name; her adopted son hadn't met Triskull—not once in his life had he ever laid eye on him.

"What about Triskull?" she asked.

"He my dat?"

"No, why?"

"Tha-k-t's contradic-k-tory to wha-k-t that one guy said." Guyunis absently said.

"What guy? Who said what to you, G?"

"The guy that did all of this to me," Guyunis swept his hand down his front side. "He said Rubacon or Triskull were my dat when he was whipping me. He said that they could have wha-k-t remained of me after he was done with me."

"Neither man is your father, G." Angel said back.

"You lied or fibbed on my adoption papers, right? When you wro-k-te my dat's name, you lied, right?"

"No. I was truthful. Correct."

"I don-k-t want that Shaam-guy to be my dat, mum!" Guyunis wailed nearly five minutes later. "Anyone but him! Anyone, mum! Anyone but him!"

Her son was in enough stress as was; he didn't need more added to what he currently had on his shoulders. She said that the decision was up to him on who he wanted to be his father then, after he started rambling about wanting her and only her as his parent, she said that she and only she would be his parent. She finished the bandaging then she helped her son up; a quick call to Hazaar was made after she had her son on his feet. She held Guyunis as Hazaar changed her bedding then, after the bedding was changed, she eased him back to a sitting position. She collected the empty packages of bandage rolls then left the room; when she returned, she found her son lying on his side.

Guyunis was staring at the wall; his legs were pulled almost up to his chin and his arms were wrapped around his chest. The poor dear; he looked so pitiful... so hopeless. She asked him if he wanted anything to eat or drink; he said no then, after a moment's pause, he said something about the inside of his mouth hurting him. A quick check showed that the inside of his mouth was cut and inflamed; the tip of his tongue was also burned. Taking in food and drink like a normal person wouldn't happen for her son. Not for a while, at least. She cringed after seeing the inside of her son's mouth then started humming a little tune. Something to help her son relax. She wanted, more than anything in the whole wide world, for her son for relax and have a little nap. Guyunis must of understood her want; he hummed along with her for a little while before falling asleep. She smoothed her hand over his hair—which, now that the more in-need injuries were treated, and that her son was in a calm state, she found was singed—, then she gave him a small kiss, before leaving the room.

She left the door open, just in case she was needed or needed to go back to the room quickly, then she went down to the dining room. She had spent the better part of an hour with Guyunis; tending his many injuries, talking to him, reassuring him, and calming him down. Now, it was time to look after Bile; she had some questions to ask him.

She found Bile in the dining room; the place where she told Lhaklar to take him to an hour earlier. Hazaar and Lazeer were in the living room; Hazaar was watching one of the discs that came in his DVD set. Lazeer looked to be only half-watching the program. The door was still blown; everyone and their mama's could see what was going on in the house. There were still bits and pieces of wood strewn about the hallway that came off the foyer.

She made a bee-line for the dining room after coming down from upstairs. Lhaklar shot up from the chair that he was sitting in; he rushed over to her. He practically dragged her from the room that she had just walked into.

"He's not said a thing on what happened," he said after pulling her from the dining room. "Any amount of asking on my part hasn't—"

"Let me take care of the asking, Lhakie." she said back. "Take care of the door then either go upstairs or join Hazaar and Lazeer in the living room."

Lhaklar did as she told him to. She could tell that he, like Hazaar and Lazeer, was effected by what happened earlier. Seeing a blood-soaked, badly injured Guyunis being carried into the house had ruined their day, as it had hers.

She went into the dining room then, after a little pause, she went right up to Bile. One look told her that whatever unknown event that happened had effected him as well; her oldest son's hands were clinched. His hands were so tightly clinched that she could hear joints cracking; her son's head was hidden behind his fists. His body was just as still as could be. She took the chair that she normally sat in at mealtime out from under the table then sat down; Bile flinched just once then went back to being still.

"Unfurl your hands, Bile. Before the circulation is cut off or a vein bursts." she said after sitting down. Her son only responded by shaking his head. "B, please. Do as I just told you. Don't hurt yourself."

"I'm already hurt, ma." Bile replied.

"I'm sure of that; we've all been effected. The emotional and mental pain will run its course in a few days." she hoped that she was right in that regard.

"I could of stopped it, ma." her son said after a few minutes of silence fell between them. "I could of prevented all of what happened by flipping the ground."

"Could of prevented what?" she asked.

"I'm as much at fault for what happened as they are." her son slapped his fists down on the table. He pushed himself back in his chair. It was at that time that she saw that he, too, was injured.

"Bile!"

His hands were a blood-soaked mess! The knuckles were ruined; they were covered in a mixture of different colored blood. Greenish-blue, yellow, and greenish-red—the latter belonging to her young son. There were a few minor cuts and abrasions to her son's face; the one that'd need serious treating was the one that was over his left eye—it was nasty! The worst injury that her son had on him was nine-inches long; it ran on a slant, from his right shoulder on down to the center of his chest then on down to the left side of his upper stomach region. This wound had the same characteristics as the eight lashes, that had burned outer edges, that were on Guyunis's back; what the hell had happened to her two boys during their outing? Her mouth dropped when she saw the wound, but she retained herself from reaching forward to touch it; her son wasn't in the mood for medical treating. Right now, the best thing that she could do was be an ear and a shoulder.

"What happened, B?" she asked. "Tell me slowly. I'm here, I'm listening."

"Where do you want me to start?"

"At the beginning, Bile."

Her son said nothing for the longest of time before finally starting in on a tale that she, at first, didn't want to hear. How had Guyunis coming very near to beating Bile in a foot-race led to Guyunis, and Bile, being so badly injured? Bile was very detailed in telling the tale of how he and Guyunis had raced; Guyunis had given him a good run for his money. He remained at Bile's side for nearly the entire duration of the race. Bile had just gotten through mentioning that Angus and Aubin, two of his friends, were witnesses to the race when the real details of what she wanted to hear started being told. Her skin grew cold right when he started telling the tale of what happened after his and Guyunis's race ended.

"The ground started shaking—it was like a small earthquake was happening—then they popped out of the ground. One by one, like fuckin' Jack-In-The-Boxes."

"Who, B?" she knew that he was telling the truth—a mild "jump" was felt on her end over an hour ago. Horace A. Smith, the American President, who she was on the phone with at the time, had said that he couldn't feel a thing where he was; she had asked him if the ground was shaking where he was. He came back with a no.

"Every-fuckin'-body that's in that Rastatter Rheinaue camp." Bile replied. He slapped one of his hands on the table then went on in relaying all of what happened. "The ones that can do Elemental powers came out of the ground—my grandfather, my adoptive father, my great-grandfather, and great-great grandfather..." her son stopped long enough to regain some of his composure before going on. "My grandfather and great-grandfather had their wives wrapped around them; Shaam threw a Fire Fist at the interior shield-wall, so the others that were waiting on the other side could get in. After he did that, he started undressin' himself."

"He did what?"

"He took his jacket, vest, and shirt off." Bile clarified. "We—Angus, Aubin, Guyunis, and me—bolted soon after he undressed himself. We were trying to run away—a rock wall appeared around us; one of them trapped us. A ring of energy was made around Angus and Aubin; I was separated from Guyunis then... then Shaam started fighting Guyunis."

Bile told it all. He was quick, but clear in telling the tale of what happened. Her jaw dropped twice before snapping shut; it became a firm fixture on her face after them two droppings. Anger, as rich and as thick as could be, boiled within her as her son told her the rest of what happened.

Tazir was told to go retrieve her oldest son, who kept him back. A bunch of Goblins charged at her son after their employer was sent packing twice; they separated him from Guyunis at once. Right after the separation occurred, Shaam started assaulting her adopted son. Bile claimed to of made a shield form around himself after the Goblins had him separated from Guyunis. He fought the Goblins from within the shield, then he said a spell to make the shield move as he did; he was in the process of going forward to help Guyunis when his shield was dropped. The Goblins, followed by Tazir, had kept Bile from reaching his brother; Bile had tried to help his brother—he was sincere in this, and she believed him whole-heartily.

In Bile's words, Shaam had made mince-meat out of Guyunis. Their fight was long and brutal; while Guyunis had put as much effort as he could into the fight, he was beaten, and badly. After being beaten, Guyunis was strung up a tree and then flogged with a bull-whip; Tazir had started fighting Bile at that time. Her son claimed that her Universal Husband had given him a promise of being put on a full-course diet to lose weight and muscle mass during their altercation.

"I should of used my head, ma." her son said. His face was set, like an angry stone. "I should of flipped the ground under Shaam's feet. If I had done that, he wouldn't be upstairs with all them lashes on his back."

"Where'd that gash on your front come from, B?" she asked.

"I stepped in front of Shaam. I thought that he'd stop swinging the whip at Guyunis if I was in the way. He didn't. He swung that damn whip. When it hit me... it hurt, ma! It hurt so damn much!"

"You took the last swing for your brother," her hands, which were folded tightly on her lap, trembled.

"That fuckin' whip was on fire, ma! Shaam set it on fire after he used it normally!"

She understood Guyunis's demand of not wanting Shaam to be his father fully now. What happened between the two of them was a peachy-fine way of introducing one to the other; instead of a hello, then a handshake, or one of them half-hugs, Shaam beat and then tortured his young son. If her boys didn't need her, she'd be hot-footing it over to the Rastatter Rheinaue camp to give Shaam a good piece of her mind—and to punish him royally for the damage that he inflicted on both of her boys. Not only were her two boys injured physically but they were also dealing with the effects of emotional and mental injury. She wouldn't be surprised if Guyunis did a full regression. Went back to wanting to stay inside, away from humans. Went back to talking bad of humans. Went back to talking bad of himself, or went back to thinking that he was scum or not important.

Shaam's fight with his young son hadn't just effected Bile or Guyunis; she was also effected by it. She was Guyunis's mother. She loved Guyunis dearly. She, too, was injured. Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer had also shown the effects of injury; the shock over what happened was written all over their faces, and it was shown in all of their movements. Hazaar had long since turned his show off; they had heard Bile's tale of what happened between father and son.

Bile finished telling the rest of his story then leaned forward; he started crying at once. She stared at her sobbing son, the oldest of her offspring, for a few seconds before standing up. She leaned over him. She wrapped him up in a hug, but she didn't tell him that it was alright—that would be wrong; things were not alright in her world or in his. She hugged him, she let him cry, then she went over to the fridge. She was still producing milk for her boys, and they were still consuming it; she produced at least a half-gallon of milk a day. About seventy ounces, and her sons consumed all of it. There were three, half-gallon jugs in the fridge; she took one out, then she grabbed a glass from the cabinet. She poured Bile a glass of her milk, then took it over to him; he did nothing but stare at it. He stared at it for all of five minutes before picking it up then downing it.

"Go upstairs. Take a warm shower; if you want me to do a session on your injuries, tell me afterwards." she said after he finished his glass of milk.

"Okay," he son mumbled. He got to his feet then went upstairs.

The next week _did_ prove to be a little difficult for her and her family; Guyunis _did_ experience a regression, but not a full one like she expected. Angus and Aubin's parents called to ask her what was going on; the two boys had obviously run home, screaming their fool heads off. Angus was terrified of leaving home, while Aubin just plain refused to speak to anyone. She explained as best she could on what happened then she hung up after the line went dead. It took a while for the two boys to collect themselves—their emotional and mental injuries healed at the same rate that her own sons' did.

A heavy rain fell on the first few days of March; everything puddled up, and got messy. It started snowing on the day of her oldest son's birthday. It fell lightly, at first, then blizzard-like conditions set in. She used the bad weather as an excuse to stay home. With the mood being what it was, it was mutually decided to postpone the celebrating of Bile's and Lhaklar's birthdays; Bile turned two thousand, two hundred, and two years old on the third of March. Except for her, he was mostly left alone. Lhaklar turned two thousand, one hundred, and two years old on the eighth of March; the same thing happened on his birthday.

The things that they bought for the two for their birthdays were given and then received silently. Bile got two knives—one that had an Obsidian blade, the handle, of which, being the head and neck of a rattlesnake, that still had its fangs intact, and the other being something similar. The blade of the second knife was stone, while the handle was made out of a Snowshoe rabbit's foot. He also got a DVD set of Wild Hunt Stories—a tv show that he was showing some interest in lately. Hazaar and Lazeer gave him two model kits that he started building right away—the sensual Vampire Selene model was done in two days, while the model of Leia Organna, depicted in the slave outfit that Jabba the Hutt had made her wear after he captured her, took him four days to do.

Lhaklar had also gotten some knives for his birthday; a green glass throwing knife, that had an eagle-headed pommel, and a Jagdkommando Tri-Dagger Knife, the latter, of which, she pondered long and hard on before buying. Lazeer had gotten him a DVD set of Deep Sea Fishing—a show that her secondborn was noted as being highly interested in. The weather radio that Hazaar had gotten him had a built-in flashlight on it; Lhaklar had asked if, one day, when it was safe, he could use it on a night-conducted fishing excursion. She had said that they'd see on that one. She had also gotten him a new communicator; his old one had all of a sudden died on him—he had been in-need of a new one. Bile had gotten Lhaklar two model kits—one of a slave girl fighting off a giant snake and the other of Oola, the slave girl that Jabba the Hutt had before Leia caught his eye.

Guyunis gave his two brothers their birthday gifts a week and a half after his ordeal with his father; he gave Bile a model kit of Frankenstein's new, sexy bride. Lhaklar got a model kit of Jaws eating/attacking Quint.

Guyunis got very violently ill on the night following his fight with his father; she fussed and worried over him for nearly two weeks. His symptoms were something similar to pneumonia. He had a very productive cough; the fever was very, very high; and he also had shaky spells. Complaints of his chest hurting him were made two days after he came down with his mystery illness. It took him nearly two weeks to get over his illness; when he was better, he started moving around more. He spent most of the two weeks in her room; she and he had slept back-to-back for all of a week and five days before his illness started subsiding. He was moved to his room after he started showing signs of getting better.

She was given a shock on the seventeenth of March; when she came into her room to find him milling around. Guyunis, who, surprisingly, hadn't lost a pound in weight despite his sick days, was rummaging around in her closet. Obviously looking for something. She placed her purse down on her dresser then spoke gently—so not to spook him.

"What're you looking for, G?"

"Mum!" even after speaking gently, he still jumped for the ceiling. The box of books, that he just took down from the shelf in her closet, fell to the floor instantly.

"Don't tell me that you've now got an interest in being an astronaut." she said after he turned to look at her. "You practically leaped to the moon on that one, G."

"I'm sorry, mum. I'll pick them up." Guyunis dropped to his knees slowly; the wrap of bandaging that was around his torso was new. She had made a habit out of changing his wrapping once a day.

"Calm down, G." she said. She went over to help him in picking the books up. "What're you looking for?"

He didn't answer her. He just picked the books up then placed them back in the box that they fell out of. The box of books, that her son took down from her bedroom closet's shelf, contained mostly picture albums. There were really only two real books in the box; her son purposely left them lying out in the open. When it came time to putting them back into the box, he simply pushed them back, out of view. She automatically knew that he had found the item, or items, of interest that he was looking for. She took the two books up when he was putting the box back in her closet then she looked down at them; a small smile pulled at her lips when she saw what the titles of the two books were.

"You'll want the one that has a full cover on it. The one that has a half-burned front cover is the older edition." she said after taking the two books, the older and the newer editions of the Chronicle of the Surfeit, up from the floor.

"Mum," Guyunis took the two books from her slowly, carefully. She smiled at him, then turned to leave the room.

"If at any time you need me, call. I'll be downstairs, making some chocolate chip and coconut macaroon cookies."

His mum left. She said nothing to him. Either against or for his having the two books; not even a question was asked on why he wanted to look through the two books was asked. He found that odd. His mum, who cared for him all during his sickness, and who was still looking after him for his still-present, and many, injuries, seemed to be acting a bit strange that day. It was Spring-like outside; his bruders had all gone out—with their mum's permission, of course. She had just come in from work; her work clothes were still on her. He looked around the room that he was in before going towards the bed. After a moment's pause, he sat then opened the book that she said was the newer edition of the two that he kept out from the box.

The index was long. There were many names and chapters in this one book—which was four times bigger than a damn encyclopedia! He ran his finger down the S-index then, after finding the name that he was looking for, he turned to the page that the chapter on the person that was written on started on. He took a breath after reaching the page then started reading.

 _ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit was a surprise baby to RaalVile Surfeit and his wife, Frahfrie Cloridona. He was conceived after his father came home for a short break after conquering the Cloabo Galaxy and was born during his father's conquest of the Websiren Galaxy on August 18, 1821, at nearly ten months gestation._

 _ShaamVile was a big baby; weighing in at almost nine pounds at birth and being twenty-three inches in length. He was the secondborn son of RaalVile Surfeit through his first wife, Frahfrie; he was also the more healthy of the three offspring born to the pair. He was said to be a prodigy in Elemental Powers; learning all before the age of six hundred and thirty-four. He is one of few who can do the sub-power of Elemental Fire called the Clear Fire ability; he is also noted as knowing how to do Clear Water. His knowledge and performance history in using his Elemental Air powers is outstanding; he has been seen as performing such acts as sending gusts of air, that could well send a house flying from its foundation—he even named this move himself; Air Torrent._

 _ShaamVile received a most impressive education; going to not only Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic but to also The Dark Academy, The Academy of Dark Arts, Semil's Military Academy, and The Dark School of Evil. He was one of few who actually had his first conquered galaxy by the time he reached The Dark School of Evil, and by that time, he was three thousand, four hundred, and twenty-one years old._

 _The Surfeit family was in dire trouble by the time ShaamVile conquered of the Dlur Galaxy—a galaxy that had fifty planets in it. ShaamVile's full brother, ZaalVile Ejaw Surfeit, was declared fully infertile by the time Shlock's Plague struck the Universe, and ShaamVile's younger half-brother, RikiVile Levav Surfeit, was rendered infertile after an attack on a planet that he was trying to conquer, which cost him both of his testicles. With the two infertilities being noted, it was fully on his shoulders to continue the family line._

 _ShaamVile Surfeit has been accredited to three women. Nicolia Bloashi, from the planet Gluok in the Dlur Galaxy (he met her soon after conquering the galaxy; he brought her back fully intending to marry and have a family with her), was his first and only wife. She bore him seven children; the gender of only five of those offspring are known. Of the seven children that Nicolia conceived for her husband, only one made it out of the womb alive. This child was given the name of EbaishaVile Etalett Surfeit soon after being born. A few years after EbaishaVile's birth, ShaamVile had himself and his wife checked for fertility issues. ShaamVile, at first, was declared infertile but, after a double-check, that was requested by both ShaamVile and his father, that was changed. ShaamVile's wife, on the other hand, was declared fully unable to give birth to any further children due to a deformity in her uterus. ShaamVile divorced his wife shortly after this discovery. They were married for twelve thousand, six hundred, and ninety years._

 _The next woman that ShaamVile is accredited to came from his birth planet—Gamma Vile. Her name was Bikare Globoosie and, from all accounts, even though ShaamVile was engaged to the woman, and claimed that he loved her, the pairing wasn't a happy one._

 _Despite the constant qualms, Bikare and ShaamVile had six children together; four sons and two daughters. One of the offspring bore to the pair was lost two weeks after conception. Like with ShaamVile's first marriage, his partner was only able to give birth to one living child; the child, a girl, was given the name of EblouissieVile Axodaa Surfeit. She was born on July 7, 3276, at 1:34 p.m.; ShaamVile's been noted in historical papers, and in verbal exchanges, as saying that his daughter through Bikare was thought to not be his by both of his parents. Her appearance was noted as being very different than both of her parents. ShaamVile left Bikare four thousand years after their engagement; due in part to Bikare's not wanting anything to do with their daughter, he raised EblouissieVile as a single parent._

 _ShaamVile met the third woman that he's accredited to, Egla Shaar, after sending his daughter through Bikare Globoosie to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic; despite heavy opposition from both his and her families, he swiftly became engage to her after five years of dating. All sources say that the pairing was a happy one and, surely, it must have been. The two had a total of twelve children together; six girls and four boys—the genders of two of their offspring aren't known, due to early-gestation miscarriages._

 _ShaamVile Surfeit is known to be the father of twenty-five children, but, of those twenty-five, only three survived to be born. In all, he experienced eight miscarriages and fourteen stillborn children with the three women that he's been accredited with._

 _ShaamVile Surfeit only had one living child by Egla Shaar: the coveted heir to the Surfeit family line, DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit. ShaamVile's only surviving son was born on December 11, 3650; ShaamVile's only partner to give him a living son passed away from Puerperal Fever two weeks after the birth of their son. ShaamVile Surfeit remained single after Egla died; he raised their son on his own. The early hundreds of DuruVile Surfeit's life were fraught with bad events: his grandfather, RaalVile Surfeit, and step-grandmother, Malakay Surfeit, née Dubalakee, passed away just after the young boy reached two hundred and six years of age, both being victims of Shlock's Plague. Both were buried in the cemetery behind the family house which ShaamVile's father had willed over; Egla was also buried behind the house. ShaamVile moved himself, and his young son, into the house soon after his father and stepmother's passing. He had the entire residence disinfected and had most of the furniture thrown out and replaced; it's also noted in historical records that he had several rooms redone after his father and stepmother passed away. After he and his son moved into the house, and after all of the work was done, the windows and doors were locked and no one was allowed to enter or exit the property._

 _Shlock's Plague claimed a good many of the Surfeit family; ShaamVile lost most of his family soon after the passing of his father and stepmother. In all, he lost his two brothers and three sisters—OliaVile, VlalaVile, and VaraiVile. He also lost his two, young infant nephews, one born to OliaVile and the other to VaraiVile. EbaishaVile and EblouissieVile were also claimed by the plague; it's been said that the two women would periodically leave their residences to visit friends, who were also not wary of the plague that was running rampant in their birth galaxy. All who succumbed to the plague are buried in the cemetery that's behind Surfeit Manor, located in the Lajon District of Gamma Vile. Of the ones lost, only ShaamVile, his young son, and ShaamVile's uncle and his family survived the plague._

 _ShaamVile Surfeit doted on his young son from birth; showering him with untold amounts of love and attention. Even when the Plague was at its highest, he was still a very good and nurturing father. He and his son had a very thick relationship and were, and are reportedly still, very close to one another. ShaamVile tutored his son himself; soon after a vaccine was made to prevent the surviving populace of the M-51 Galaxy from contracting and then succumbing to Shlock's Plague, he started taking him on his conquering campaigns. ShaamVile sent his son off to receive an impressive education; he spent a total of a quadramillion on just one school enrollment and was known to make a deposit on the next educational system that he wanted his son to go to. In all, ShaamVile sent his son off to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, The Dark University, School of Dark Arts, Bjork's School of Evil, Semil's Military Academy, Woolwerk's School of Business, and The University of Conquering._

 _The life of ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit was cut short after he took a voyage to check into the Virtu Galaxy—a galaxy that he was said to be highly interested in conquering. He disappeared during the voyage; many searches (most conducted by his son) were held in hopes of either finding him alive or in finding his remains. After no results came to fruit in the searches, the young and sole remaining Surfeit turned to preserving his family line and in making a name for himself._

 _ShaamVile Surfeit's remains were found over two hundred thousand years after his disappearance by his great-great granddaughter, Angel Irene Vile. They were found on the planet that his ship crashed on; due to efforts made by Angel Irene Vile, ShaamVile Surfeit was brought back from the realm known as Limbo—a place that he was only able to get to after consuming a potion that he made and was said to keep on him at all times during his space travels and conquering campaigns._

 _ShaamVile added one more galaxy to his list of conquerings after his return from Limbo; the conquest of the Bunswana Galaxy was a rough one for its vast civilians, but relatively easy for the Surfeit that conquered it. ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit hasn't done any further conquering in over two thousand years; the Universe is still shivering in fear of the Surfeit's return and wandering eye._

After reading all of that, he shook his head; he remembered saying something around the area about how old his fader was after his adoption papers were fixed up. The date at the start of the chapter did prove his mum correct in what she changed on his papers. His dat was as old as Methuselah, yet he still acted—moved, meaning—as though he was a young, spry chicken.

His curiosity temporarily satisfied in that regard, he turned back to the book's index. He found, then ran his finger down the D's, then, after finding the page that his November/December opponent was on, he turned to it. He started reading that chapter after getting to it.

 _Being born on December 11, 3650, DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit was the son of ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit and his late mistress, Egla Ifica Shaar. Egla passed away shortly after the birth of her only surviving child and son; he was raised without having a female figure in his life. This fact, though, didn't mean much to young boy—his father spent a lot of time and energy on him; reputedly, even going as far as to denounce his two other, older children, both girls, by his former wife and former mistress._

 _Duru's childhood was a mixture of rough upcomings; from having nearly all of his family succumbing to the plague that claimed many others, to having to stay indoors during the entire duration of Shlock's Plague, to having little to no familial contact, and to having no contact/socialization with other children his age. DuruVile's father took him on his planetary conquests and space travels; he personally saw to his son's training—Duru has been said to of been slow in his first few lessons then picked up to become a prodigy, like his father. DuruVile's father also took up his tutoring. It is known that DuruVile, while being an excellent pupil, had substantial issues with Math._

 _DuruVile has a most impressive education under his belt. His father sent him off to the best schools in the Universe; it was very apparent from the start that the boy was expected to follow in his footsteps. DuruVile was sent to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic first, then he was sent to The Dark University for three hundred years, School of Dark Arts, Bjork's School of Evil, Semil's Military Academy, Woolwerk's School of Business, and The University of Conquering._

 _After reaching adulthood, and, eventually, accepting the fact of his father's death, after his father disappeared after going out to check into a galaxy that he was interested in conquering, DuruVile settled down to become a husband, a father, and a conquer. He proved to be the exact thing that the Surfeit family, who was encountering issues in keeping their line going, needed with the latter two._

 _DuruVile Surfeit is famously known as having a total of five wives, each coming from a different planet. His first wife was Dapira Yeraboni, who was born and raised on Gamma Vile; she is currently the only woman accredited to him to be born and raised on his birth planet. She gave birth to three children, all girls, during the first half of their marriage; their daughters, Whosla, Bekla, and Kulabai, speak good of both parents. The marriage met with divorce soon after the younger of the three started school._

 _The second woman accredited to DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit is Cyla Dybla, who reins from Resha7. DuruVile has quite a history with this woman; not only did he divorce her after their children were all in school but he remarried her some thousands of years later. DuruVile's rather contradictory with the number of children that he's had with Cyla; he's said in verbal interviews and exchanges to have only had seven children with her when he'd really had eight with her. The first child, a son, born to the pair was given the name of ArkheVile Cosdi Surfeit; the child was born during his father's conquest of the Binya Galaxy. Neither father nor son got a chance to meet; ArkheVile Cosdi Surfeit died a month after being born, crib death is the suspected cause. The next child born through his marriage with Cyla was a girl named AraimeVile; fifty years after she was born, a son was conceived and then born. The son, KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit, was born during the rare event of three blue spheres. The next born to the pair was AzvraVile, another girl._

 _DuruVile divorced Cyla soon after meeting his third wife, who, consideringly, was a rather strange one. The young Surfeit met Ashaklar Zoopray soon after journeying to Zeta Ren, a planet in the Zeta Reticuli system, to spend some time on vacation. Ashaklar was from an affluent family, one of Zeta Ren's best, and was right young when she met DuruVile Surfeit; it seemed that love was struck quickly, DuruVile divorced Cyla then married Ashaklar quickly afterwards. After a hundred and fifteen years of marriage, Ashaklar became pregnant and had their first child—TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, DuruVile's claimed secondborn son, who is really his thirdborn. After five hundred years, Ashaklar gave birth to her second child by DuruVile—a girl, named QeetaVile Tintissi Surfeit. After Qeeta's birth, the marriage took a severe downturn. DuruVile nearly divorced Ashaklar before their children reached their schooling years. The second that QeetaVile reached her final years at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, DuruVile took out the papers then filed for divorce._

 _He next married Cardalir Glashag, from the planet Dekka in the Keyla Galaxy; through this marriage, he produced two children, both daughters. He divorced Cardalir after their children reached their schooling years then, not long after filing for divorce, he met and then married Kovina Venogerio, who was also from the Keyla Galaxy. The planet where the woman was found on isn't known. Through that marriage, DuruVile produced two more daughters. He had just divorced Kovina when he met his match on Wren8._

 _Other than being well-known for his six wives, DuruVile is also known for being a ruthless conqueror. DuruVile Surfeit isn't only known as the ruthless conqueror of the planet Shai5, he is also known as the conqueror and ruler of the Binya Galaxy, which consists of three hundred planets, and of his conquerings in the Keyla Galaxy. He was seemingly killed during his attempted conquest of the planet Wren8 in the Keyla Galaxy, where he reportedly, at the time, met his match with the planet's protector—Kankuranger._

 _After being noted as deceased for a hundred thousand years, DuruVile made a surprise comeback and appearance. He went back to conquer the rest of the Keyla Galaxy—defeating his old nemesis in the process—then he conquered the Xeno Object, a galaxy that has a total of five hundred planets in it. He currently holds the record for conquering a galaxy of that caliber._

 _Just prior to his conquest of the rest of the Keyla Galaxy, DuruVile remarried his second wife. They currently have four children together; GaajahVile Vulbub Surfeit, UevaaVile Saibi Surfeit, and SelikVile Oan Surfeit. The fourth child to the pair was a male and a twin; Cyla reportedly lost him after five months of pregnancy._

He went downstairs after reading that chapter; he was thirsty, and he felt a little deprived of his mutter's company. The rich aroma of cookies being baked had also made his stomach gurgle. He marked his place in the book then took it downstairs; there was a plate, that had three Coconut Macaroons on it, on the dining room table. While he didn't so much as need to ask if they were for him, he still asked out of common courtesy. He made himself a glass of milk—the normal type, not his mum's—then sat at his designated spot at the table. He grabbed a cookie after his mum said that they were for him afterwards. With his mutter's company, a plate of cookies, and a glass of milk in front of him, he resumed reading. This time, he looked in the book's index for the T-section.

He found what he was looking for quickly after finding what page the Trobrencus-chapter started on.

 _TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit, the secondborn son of IackVile Surfeit by his second wife, Birava Yamubabba, was born on September 12, 978. Despite his impressive pedigree, he wasn't raised or intended to become a conqueror; he was said to of been steered in the direction of the clergy instead._

 _IackVile Surfeit raised his son rough, regardless of the intention of his becoming a clergyman. Trobrencus, along with his older brother, RosolVile, were forced to remain awake up to the wee hours of the morning by their father, who ruthlessly taught them how to use their powers and who tutored them long and hard in the books and in the art of swordry. TrobrencusVile has admitted to running away from home five times; his father's ruthlessness wasn't just restricted to plain teachings—IackVile was also known as being particularly mean to his sons whenever either of them received an inadequate grade in their work assignments. IackVile was also reportedly dissatisfied with the fact that Trobrencus couldn't do their family's principle power: Elemental powers. He was particularly rough with Trobrencus on that area as well._

 _TrobrencusVile Surfeit is a known holder of the Shadow and Sound Powers, along with the basic Energy Powers. TrobrencusVile, despite his rough upbringing, speaks well of his father and received a very impressive education. Besides attending Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, he also attended the University of Shadow, Sound, and Light School; Vernolis School of Military; Goboshu's Academy of Meanness; and, for a thousand years, Blore's Academy of Sciences and Magic. He earned a degree in Power Science during his attendance at the latter school. Due to his father wanting him to become a clergyman, he also received an education at the Power of Clergy Academy and the University of Church._

 _TrobrencusVile remained single for many thousands of years; he didn't marry until meeting the lovely Bahne Brotzol at a party. He claims that an instant attraction was made between the two of them._

 _Many speculate as to why TrobrencusVile hadn't married before then; it's said that he had a son from an illicit affair with a maid that his brother, RosolVile Surfeit, hired after she was dismissed from working with their younger brother, RaalVile Surfeit. No one knows for sure; Trobrencus hasn't agreed, disagreed, or dismissed the speculation. The only thing that is known about him is that, at the time of his marriage to Bahne Brotzol, he was a hundred and three thousand, four hundred, and one years old._

 _By the time Shlock's Plague struck the M-51 Galaxy, TrobrencusVile and Bahne had two daughters; DananVile Surfeit and DazassVile Surfeit, who are a mere fifty years separate in age. Bahne was pregnant with twins by the time Shlock's Plague struck their birth and home galaxy. In order to save his family from the Plague, TrobrencusVile personally built an underground bunker that, reportedly, was cemented all around and that had a good, strong, steel top. He built the bunker close to his castle, which is located in the Voohkoor District of Gamma Vile._

 _It was in this location where his wife gave birth to their twin sons; TrivitVile and Tolibyte Surfeit, with the latter not surviving the birth. He left the bunker for only two reasons: to bury his deceased, infant son in the Surfeit cemetery that's behind Surfeit Manor, where his nephew, ShaamVile Surfeit, and great-nephew, DuruVile Surfeit, resided during the Plague, and to retrieve the innoculants against Shlock's Plague after the vaccine was made. TrivitVile Surfeit was said to of been so afraid of the outside, and of the light provided by the spheres that the planets in his family's birth galaxy revolve around, that he screamed and demanded to be left in the bunker. Besides DananVile, DazassVile, TrivitVile, and Tolibyte, TrobrencusVile Surfeit also fathered four other children; BenociVile and her twin sister, CelobraVile, were conceived a hundred and ninety years after Shlock's Plague passed on. Another son, BohirVile, was born some thousands of years later. He was followed by a sister, FleebeVile, a few hundred years later. ImpubVile and VaraxcanVile followed FleebeVile's birth some years later._

 _TrobrencusVile got busy after the vaccine was developed for Shlock's Plague. He was already the conqueror and ruler of the Shwi Galaxy, which had a total of ninety planets in it; the Keai Galaxy, which had thirty planets in it; and the Holobo Galaxy, which had a hundred and one planets in it. TrobrencusVile, soon after his family was back in order, and after everything was back to the way it use to be before the Plague swept through the Universe, swooped into the Terashu Galaxy; he conquered it within five months time. Soon after conquering the Terashu Galaxy, TrobrencusVile Surfeit went in and conquered the Falunu Galaxy, which had a total of a hundred and five planets in it. He broke a record during his conquest of the Cenup Galaxy, which had a total of a thousand planets in it. He conquered the Cenup Galaxy in six months, shattering the record, which had previously been stuck at a full year and six months, for a galaxy with a thousand planets to be conquered. It was a record that few had attempted to break; it was set a thousand years earlier._

 _TrobrencusVile Surfeit has been known as a fierce protector of his family, not only going lengths to protect his family against Shlock's Plague but also diseases, plagues, viruses and, like his father before him, he trained and tutored his offspring himself. When TrivitVile Surfeit went off to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery, he took with him a special mirror that his father gave him to keep tabs on him at all times. Duplicate mirrors were given to DananVile, DazassVile, BenociVile, CelobraVile, BohirVile, and FleebeVile. A special cellular was also given, so contact could be continuous between parents and offspring._

 _TrobrencusVile, his wife, Bahne Brotzol, and all of their children reside in the same castle in the Voohkoor District today._

"Mum..." he said, after going back to the index then thumbing through the T-section again. "Mum, he's no-k-t in here."

"Who's not in the book, G?" Angel asked.

"Tha-k-t Triskull-guy."

"There's a pretty good explanation for why he's not, baby." Angel placed the last of the baked cookies in the cookie jar then went over to her son, who was now flipping the pages of the book that he was reading rapidly. "He hasn't done anything with his life to warrant a chapter in that book."

"He's not in here." Guyunis said, despairingly.

"There's a minor mention of him in his father's chapter." Angel replied. "He's the secondborn son of KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit; third child born to him and his wife, Irka."

"Here he is!" Guyunis said, after finding the chapter that his mother had spoken of. He spent all of five minutes reading the chapter before leaning back in his chair. "Like you said, he's jus-k-t mentioned."

"What do you want to know about him, G?" Angel asked.

"A pict-k-ure's what I want to see." Guyunis replied. "I want to... to..."

"Compare yourself with him?"

With his interest being as high as it was, she didn't dawdle on going upstairs to her room. She grabbed the photo albums, that were in the box, that was in her closet, then went back downstairs. Guyunis was where she left him; she found that he was reading the chapter that was written on her father. She let him read the chapter then she gave him a picture of what he said he wanted to see. She took a picture of Rubacon from one of the albums next; she was handing that over when he placed the photograph of Triskull down on the table.

"I don-k-t look like neither of them, mum!" Guyunis exclaimed. "Why'd tha-k-t Shaam-guy say that one of them were my dat?"

"Probably because of your skin tone, G." Angel replied. "He—probably all of them—connected you with them because of the color of your skin."

"Triskull's go-k-t real dark blue skin, mum." Guyunis said. "Tha-k-t Rubacon-guy has crests over his eyes. I don't have cres-k-ts over my eyes, or look like him. My eyes are yellow; his are black in tha-k-t photo."

"I suspect that your great-grandmother holds the clue to where you got your looks from." Angel said. She flipped the pages of the photo album that she had in front of her until she reached a photograph of IackVile Uovo Surfeit and his last wife, Dablonie Noshibol. She took the photo from the book then she held it over to her son, who took it gently.

The first thing in the photograph that claimed his eye was the man; he looked mean. The man had one hell of a mean-looking face, that looked to be frozen in a snarl. As much as he hated to admit it, he had a feeling that the man was related to everyone in his family; the left side of his head was dark blue, while the right side of his head was a silver color. His slightly elongated ears were a dark blue color; there were light blue, Tiger-like stripes on them. He had to bring the photograph in a little closer to notice that the man also had an off spot or two on his ears too. While he couldn't really tell how tall the man was he had a nagging feeling that he was around six feet; he didn't look that tall in the photograph—around modest height. While the man wore a plain, brown-checkered tuxedo in the photograph his horns were very prominent; them horns, which were a dark gray color, and had a triple twist to them, looked right sharp and deadly.

The woman that was also in the photograph didn't look none fazed by how mean or menacing the man looked. The woman was one of modest beauty. She had a pear-shaped body and short, near shoulder-length, gray hair. Her eyes were a steel-gray color. He had to look at her skin tone for a while to finally understand what his mum had said about where he had gotten his looks from; the woman's skin color was black. Pitch black, just like his. She had no nose whatsoever; that gave her appearance an off sort of feeling. She was wearing a long, purple dress in the photograph.

"Wh... who's this, mum?" he asked after pointing at the woman in the photo.

"Dablonie Noshibol, IackVile Uovo Surfeit's third wife." Angel replied. "She's of the now-extinct Gurnto species."

"Now extinct?"

"The galaxy where her people lived in was sucked into a black hole about four or five hundred thousand years ago."

"I go-k-t my skin from her, I can tell and... I think I can feel it too." Guyunis said. He stared at the open book that was in front of him for a few minutes before leaning forward. "What did my birth-mum look like? I've been told thing-k-s about her but—"

In answer, the woman that he regarded as his real mutter took a photograph from the album that lay before her. She slid the photograph across the table, then took the one that had IackVile Uovo Surfeit and Dablonie Noshibol. She was sliding the photograph of his great-grandparents back in the album when he started looking at the photograph that she had just given him.

"This her? Lisa Ann Wahlberg?" he asked after being silent for five minutes.

"Yep. That's her."

The woman in the photograph looked nothing impressive to him. She was of moderate height—around five foot, five inches tall—, and she had very green eyes. Her complexion was as he was told it was—medium or moderately tanned. Her hair was long and black, like his. He had only to look at her stomach to know that she was pregnant with him. Her stomach was sticking out prominently; if he had to guess, she was around seven or so months pregnant with him.

"W...why didn't she want me, mum?" he asked. Since he was there, and getting some answers on his background history, he figured that he might as well ask why his real mum hadn't kept him.

"Your father, more or less, used her like a whore." Angel replied, a little too heatedly. She forced herself to calm down before going on in telling her son, who seemed to want to learn about his background history, about his mother... and father. "It was about a year after your father was returned to the world of the living. Your mother was caught; your father was teased quite a lot after he saw her. He decided to act on his urge in wanting to... you know, mate."

"Tha-k-t's sick!" Guyunis exclaimed. He gave the picture back then snapped the book, that he spent the better part of an hour reading, shut.

"It is, yes. It had a very compound effect on her; he hurt her emotionally, as much as mentally. She never really recovered from it. You're the only child that she's had; she refuses any sort of male companionship—"

"Thanks to my fader." Guyunis sighed. He tapped his finger on the closed Chronicle of the Surfeit book then leaned back in his chair. "Why aren't you like that? In that guy Vile's chapter, you're said to be his daugh-k-ter; it says that Bile's his son."

"Some people handle rape differently. I will confirm for you now that, yes, I was raped by my father—twice—and that Bile is the product from one of them rapings." Angel replied. After a minute of silence, she sighed; since it was out in the open, she figured that it was best to clear her conscience and admit to how she felt after her oldest son's conception. "I started out very much like your mother, G. I didn't want Bile when he was in me."

"Wha-k-t!" Guyunis exclaimed. He pulled away from her with such force that he fell out of his chair. She sustained a laugh as he got back into the chair that he had fallen from.

"For most of my pregnancy, I said that I didn't want him. I spoke bad of him. Said that I wasn't going to do a thing with or for him."

"No," Guyunis's black hair flew madly as he shook his head. "Say it's not true, mum! Please—"

"Let me finish, G." Angel said. "After I escaped my father, I was forced to tend for myself—to hunt, clean, find refuge, etc. While doing all that, I formed a bond with Bile. I accepted him right after he was born."

"My mum didn't do that with me," Guyunis sounded relieved over hearing that part of her history; she felt a weight lift from her chest. "Right? She didn-k-t, right?"

"Yes. Sad but true. She birthed you, then she instructed the two women that acted as her midwives to send you away. You landed at the agency that's handled your adoptions about six hours after being born." Angel replied. "The two midwives tried, G. They tried their damnedest to give you to your mother. The older of the two was only able to get your mother to milk herself so you could have some colostrum; Lisa refused to see or have anything to do with you afterwards."

"My real mum refused me while you, a mum tha-k-t formerly refused one of her young, took me in. How ironic is that?" Guyunis placed his head in his hands.

"If it matters, G, I still kick myself in the ass for not accepting Bile earlier than I did." she said after a few minutes of silence fell at the table.

He didn't understand the rudimentaries of what she had just said to him. While the admittance of her not accepting his older bruder, when she was pregnant with him, was a shock, he didn't feel any different about her. He still loved her. For some strange reason, he felt closer than ever to her now. Maybe it was because everything was out in the open. The cards were on the table. The book was opened. The secrets were exposed. His mum had sounded hurt when she told him about her not accepting Bile before he was born; he knew his mum well—while she might not of wanted Bile then she truly wanted him now. She loved Bile as much as she loved him and the rest of his bruders.

His mum got up from the table. She went to the sink; the clean-up process of the kitchen began slowly and silently. After sitting, doing nothing more than staring at her, admiring her for all the good that she was, he got to his feet. He went to her then wrapped her up in a hug; the usual routine of his nuzzling his head against hers was done next. Unlike the other times, where he'd do this to get comfort for something that happened to him, or that spooked him, he just did this to show that he was still there and that their bond as mutter and son was also still there. His mutter reciprocated his motion. She nuzzled him back, then turned around to give him a hug—a light one; his ribs, which were broken two weeks and two days ago, were still tender, as was his back and chest.

"If at any time you want to know more on your family history, come to me. That book on the table's not the only thing that knows where you come from, you know." his mum said after they stopped hugging and nuzzling one another.


	51. Chapter 51

The rest of the third week of March went by pitifully slow for him—mostly, in part of the torrential rains and winds that were experienced, but also because he was house-bound, with hardly anything to do. As he healed, he kept himself busy with small, menial tasks; looking after his cat, who was experiencing her first heat, was one of the things that he kept himself busy with. Sabine was now seven months and two weeks old; while late in experiencing her first heat cycle, she hadn't missed a beat in driving him or his family crazy with her meow-howls. A potion was made and then given to her two days after she went into heat. The potion given to his cat had a lifespan of two years; his cat was essentially, temporarily spayed thanks to that potion.

Lhaklar bought him his usual magazine editions. Bile got him his HB and Gold Flake cigarettes. Lazeer did a little shopping for him; a Freakhouse Freak model kit, a model kit of Burt Gummer being rescued after being eaten by a Tremor, and a model kit of a very busty Medusa from the movie Clash of the Titans were bought and then given to him. He had yet to get to the latter two models; the Freakshow Freak model was currently on Dry-Mode—it had just been completed like an hour to an hour and a half ago.

His mum was as good as her word on giving him more information on his roots; other than the plain verbal teachings of his family, he also had his very own Chronicle of the Surfeit book... which was now out and open in front of him. Like his mum, who had a habit of marking each chapter that she read in both of the Surfeit Chronicle books that she had, he also made a habit out of marking the spots that he had read. A black tab was placed on his dat's chapter; an orange tab was used on his older, half-bruder's, Duru's, chapter; and a red tab was used on his fader's uncle's chapter. Right now, he was re-reading his older, half-bruder's oldest son's chapter.

He hadn't read anything in his new book yet. His copy of The Chronicle of the Surfeit had just been taken from the paper package that it was wrapped in.

 _KurukVile Surfeit, the son that is confusingly said to be the oldest son of DuruVile Surfeit and Cyla Dybla, was born prematurely on November 23, 4340, during the rising of a rare spectacle known as The Three Blue Spheres. KurukVile wasn't meant to be raised as a conqueror; he was included in the training with his two siblings, but he was never really, truly meant to be raised as a conqueror. KurukVile attended Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, Grizzard's Academy, School of Dark Arts, and The Dark University—the latter, for three hundred years. After graduating from the latter education, he remained elusive for some time until his conquest of the planet Tyche occurred, which happened three thousand years later._

 _Tyche, an immense planet that was ruled by a longtime enemy of the Surfeit's, was nearly run-over by the young son of DuruVile, who brought with him a small army of DoroDoro's and other monsters. After the planet was taken over, and stripped of all its riches, KurukVile destroyed it by using the Dacops Crystal, a crystal that's been passed down from father to firstborn son for a little under a million years._

 _The Dacops Crystal, a small crystal that pulsates in purple and red hues, is a relatively small crystal that packs "quite a punch" when activated. KurukVile knew/knows how to use the crystal well; after he conquered and then destroyed Tyche, he set his sights on a planet known well for being encrusted with semi-precious gems and gold—Ceres. KurukVile's conquest of that planet wasn't as smooth as his conquest of Tyche; it took him five years before the ruling family of that planet were felled to their knees. KurukVile activated the Dacops Crystal soon after the ruling family of Ceres gave control over to him. KurukVile collected well over a centimillion afterwards, when he ordered a scoop of the planet's orbit for the next thirty weeks._

 _KurukVile is most known for his ruthless conquest of the planet Themis and the Wycos Galaxy. The ruling family that claimed Themis as theirs ran for their lives after a short fight which ran a month and a half; after Themis was conquered, he destroyed that planet then went on to the Wycos Galaxy. A furious battle was raged for the galaxy for a long five hundred years. During KurukVile's conquest of Tyche, he fathered two daughters by a mistress, who had stalked him for some time. The two daughters, named Dione and Azone, were raised with their father under the same roof for ten years before KurukVile left his mistress for a different lady. Irka Shaiden, a Sketon woman, from a family who was moderately well off, became KurukVile's new mistress for many years. KurukVile and his then mistress, Irka, produced a son almost fifty years after their courtship's beginning. He was named Vile Skujik Vile._

 _It's been reported in both interviews and historical documents that KurukVile liked the latter part of his family's birth-name so much that he decided to make the name an official surname. He not only gave his first son the given name of Vile but he also gave him the surname of Vile. KurukVile made the union between him and Irka permanent by marrying Irka in a great ceremony the week following his eldest son's birth._

 _Up to recent times, he fathered only three children through her. Vile, notably known far and wide as Master Vile, Dara DaraVile Similir Surfeit, and TriskullVile Vuupipii Surfeit; the pair had no further children until March 8, 1999, when BarukVile Glosu Surfeit was born. A daughter, KaasaVile Cvina Surfeit, was born sometime after Baruk then another son, SudirVile Sorrass Surfeit, was born sometime after her._

 _The last galaxy that KurukVile added to his list of conquered realms was the Ergots; while he took his time in conquering this galaxy, he was no less ruthless in its conquering than in his previous conquerings. A total of ten planets in the galaxy were destroyed, the rest are under his rule._

 _The powers wielded by the man are truly impressive! Despite being an expert in his family's principle power, Elemental, he is also quite adept in using his Energy powers. He is also able to use and control the strength of his powers from quite a distance away; during his conquest of Ceres, he was noted as using his Elemental powers against a gathered group of militants from a single planet away. He is also known as being able to turn one military unit against another, to make a mini-battle happen during a conquest—he used this power during the final years of his conquest of the Wycos Galaxy; it turned nearly all of the enemy on itself. He is very well known for his ability to use the Lightning power, a sub-power of his Elemental powers. He used this power a full week before the last planet in the Wycos Galaxy fell into his hands; after turning the enemy on itself, he gathered and then threw the ocean nearby. He then threw a large bolt to the ground. The turned-on-itself enemy was cooked instantly. The rulers of the Wycos Galaxy didn't stick around for long afterwards; they fled for their lives. They haven't been seen since their galaxy's conquest. KurukVile also boasts a rare ability, where he can fire his own fingernails at the enemy—an ability that he used during his conquest of Themis, the Vulcan Galaxy, and the planet Oot._

He placed a yellow tab at the start of the chapter then turned to the book's index; three of his four bruders were sired by a man named TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, another son of his older, half-bruder, Duru. He found the name in the index then turned to the chapter's start; he snapped a bite from the apple that was at his side before reading what was written on the guy.

 _While the sons of DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit are few, quite a few heads turn and bodies shake upon the mention of his confusingly said-to-be secondborn son, TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit. TazirVile Surfeit was the first child and second son born to DuruVile Surfeit through his third wife, Ashaklar Zoopray, who was born and raised on the planet Zeta Ren, located in the Zeta Riticuli system. TazirVile's upbringing was different than that of his older, half-brother's and he had a whole different set of powers to him—which took a short while to be realized. TazirVile also had a different education than his brother; he not only attended Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic but also Shlane's Academy, the University of Telepathy, and Zeta Ren's School of Hard Knots. Besides those schools, he also attended The School of Gray, The University of Power, and, for one thousand years, The Academy of Evil._

 _TazirVile is know as the conqueror of the Vaisha Galaxy—a galaxy that made him extremely wealthy. His name was spread far and wide after the conquest of the Vaisha Galaxy; not only was he quite extraordinarily ruthless during that conquest but he led his army, which consisted of nothing but Goblins, into battle. The title of Conquering Comet was established after he finished his conquest of the Andromeda Galaxy some time later—he mostly owes the title to the sudden disappearance of his young daughter, who he, at the time, had thought to of been taken by the Dolis family that ruled over that galaxy before he came in to conquer it._

 _His most noteworthy conquest came after he conquered the Andromeda Galaxy; the Bula Galaxy was quickly sought after, after the Andromeda Galaxy's conquest was over. The old record of conquering a galaxy that compromises thirty planets was shattered; TazirVile Surfeit conquered the entire galaxy in a week's time. His conquest of that galaxy was more ruthless than his conquest of the Vaisha Galaxy._

 _Up to very recently, it was thought that his powers were vastly different than his kins. His Elemental powers developed slowly; he didn't take note of them until well after his conquest of the Vaisha Galaxy. He has yet to use them in battle. Besides now knowing and wielding Elemental powers, he is very knowledgeable and gifted in the art of using his Acidic powers. He is also very well trained in Telepathy, Telekinesis, and he is an excellent wielder of his Energy powers. Besides his powers, he is an excellent swordsman, and is a great combat fighter—during the fight of Caicla, a planet in the Vaisha Galaxy, he took to the front of his army and fought with them, a feat which made many armies in the Vaisha Galaxy tremble. It's been reported, and noted in historical documents, that he felled half of the opposing army before his army got to the fight. He can also warp time and reality to perfection._

 _His marriage history is just as fruitful as his conquering history; his first wife, Bespe Rakaduc, a half-blood Zetakin, was married to him for nearly forty thousand years before a divorce was filed. It's been reported that the marriage between the two wasn't a happy one; one child, a daughter, named EshalVile Eskara Surfeit, was born to the pair on June 5, 1697. The second marriage seems to be a much more pleasant and happy one; the daughter of his nephew, Vile Skujik Vile (better known as Master Vile), was reportedly picked for him as a wife by the Universal Gods. Three children, all sons, were born to the pair: LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit, born on March 8, 1999; HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, born on April 23, 2399; and LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit, born on February 13, 2499. The latter of the three sons born to the pair was born prematurely at five and a half months gestation; he, along with his mother, Angel Irene, and three of his four siblings (Bile Vile, the secondborn son of Master Vile that TazirVile adopted and raised as his own; Lhaklar; and Hazaar) disappeared four months after his birth. Up to recently, it was highly thought that the four had perished. All five missing Surfeit's were found and then returned home on November 25, 4099._

The chapter on his bruders' fader didn't mention the fact that his mum had adopted Eshal; up to real recently, he didn't know about having an older sister. He was told yesterday, during lunch, about her. Eshal's mum wasn't in her life; his adopted mum had come in to help raise her. The two, his mum had said, were right close. Since Eshal's adopted mutter was his own, that automatically made them siblings; he had yet to meet his sister in person. He didn't know what she looked like; the only thing that he knew about her was that she was much older than he.

He placed a blue tab on the chapter that he had just read then closed his book; two chapters were enough, for now. He could always pick the book up later. Right now, since it was so nice out, and since everything had remained quiet and drama-free on his and his family's little corner of Germany, he wanted to go out. He placed his book on his bookcase then left his room; all of what he and Bile had left in the field that was behind the old festival hall was collected a few hours after his fight with his fader. Nothing was lost or destroyed during the fight. Bile had his turkey-footed handle knife, his spiked knuckle knife, his satchel bag, and his book of knives again, and he had his torched stag pocketknife again. His dat's clothes—his shirt, vest, and jacket—had also been left behind; his mum had personally seen to packing and then storing them.

The bell on the door—which was repaired sometime after his and Bile's return home—was rung about twenty or thirty minutes ago. Mr. Leinart, who was a no-show for nearly a month, and Mr. Smith had come over for a visit; from what he could tell, the two men were still in the house. He went downstairs then he went into the living room, where the two men and his mum were. He automatically knew that he had made a mistake in doing that; obviously, his mum had talked to the two men about his and his fader's fight—she must of also mentioned something about his injuries, because that was what the three were talking about when he came into the room that they were in.

"Oh Gahd!" Mr. Smith said after seeing him. "You said it was bad but you didn't... oh gahd, I'm sorry but oh gahd!"

"Over doing it a bit there, Horace." Mr. Leinart said. Guyunis could tell that he was holding the "oh gahd's" back too. "Your mum was just telling us about what happened three weeks ago. Glad to see that you're up and about, Guyunis."

"Me too," Guyunis replied. "Don-k-t think I can take another day of staying-k in bed."

He didn't need to be told that he still looked like a half-wrapped mummy; his back, chest, and shoulders were still hidden behind a layer of bandaging. So were his hands. He was taking the jokes on his looking like a half-wrapped mummy in stride; what else could he do? He couldn't go around with his injuries exposed; they could get infected, like his mum was constantly saying with each day's de-wrapping, wound examining, medicating, then re-wrapping.

His hair was still singed. He was glad to still have that. His fader could well of chopped it off! Add more humiliation to what he had already felt after being hung from a tree branch then flogged in front of everyone that watched them fight. His mum had told him about how her hair was cut completely off once, during one of the bandage removals; her dat and granddat had done something similar to her—they chained her up to a piece of wood then they flogged her before torturing her with a series of candles. Her dat cut her hair completely off after the candle torturing; he—and everyone else that acted as spectators to that horrid act, he was told—still had a tassel of her cut-off hair to that day.

He could take the lengthy heal-up, but he didn't think he could last long without having his hair. His hair was apart of him—he had grown attached to its length and color. The singed parts of his hair would either fall off on their own or they'd repair themselves; he was using a special type of shampoo that his mum had gotten for him. It was suppose to keep his hair moisturized and it was also suppose to replenish the nutrients and natural oils that were burned away. So far, he hadn't seen any improvements. He still clung to the hope that, one day, the twice daily washings would pay off.

"Where are your other boys? They home or—" Mr. Leinart asked.

"Some are." his mum replied. "Hazaar and Lazeer ran off earlier; I haven't a clue as to where they are. Bile, Lhaklar, and—as you can see—Guyunis are still inside."

"Two _were_ still inside," Bile, who was just walking past the living room doorway, said. "Got a girlfriend to see, ma. Grandbaby numbero uno about to be made."

"You best be joking, Bile. You and your brothers aren't allowed to make babies until you're thirty thousand years of age." their mother said after Bile disappeared.

" _You_ best be joking," Bile, who's head suddenly appeared from around the corner, said in a joke-like way. "It keeps getting older! At the rate she's going, I'll be old and feeble by the time I'm allowed to reproduce."

"Did I just hear what I thought I just heard?" Lhaklar, who slowly strode into the room that Bile had just stepped into, asked. "The age for our being allowed to reproduce was upped a few thousand years?"

"Dude, she says thir-k-ty thousand now!" Guyunis said, trying to get in on the conversation that his two brothers were "complaining" about.

"Not that! Down it, mom! I'll be old and wrinkled by the time I'm allowed to date." Lhaklar feigned hysteria.

"Sorry." their mother said. "It'll be increased next year by, at least, ten thousand years. You boys shall be virgins forever."

"Noooooo!" he and his brothers rang together.

"For the record—hate to break this rather funny conversation that you four are having—, I'll be giving the order for the Rastatter Rheinaue camp to be "sprinkled" by pamphlets here in the next few hours. Should I add in a little number saying that consequences will be experienced if word reaches my offices about further assaults made on civilians?" Mr. Leinart asked.

"Being discreet for a reason, Mr. Leinart?" their mother asked.

"Yes; don't want to openly say names or disrupt any privacies or lives." Mr. Leinart replied.

"I'd like for that to be done, yes. Add in a rather serious word before consequences, though. I'm mad enough at them for what they did to Guyunis to tear their weiners off." their mother replied.

"Mum!" Guyunis exclaimed. His jaw, like Bile's and Lhaklar's, had dropped after hearing their mother say something about being mad enough to tear a man's penis off.

"With due respect, I'd say the same thing if something like what happened to Guyunis happened to one of my daughters." Mr. Smith said after a full thirty seconds of silence had fallen in the room.

"Same here," Mr. Leinart said.

The fly-over that delivered the pamphlets was done at exactly 11:42 a.m.; he was in his ship when the papers dropped down from the sky. Like with his uncle, son, and grandsons, he sent some of his staff out to grab a few; he had one in his hand now. It was a sweet little nothing to him. A threat that he read, but didn't take seriously. It simply said that the members of the Rastatter Rheinaue camp—him and his family, meaning—had violated the rights of the country's civilians by disrupting lives and causing harm to certain individuals that weren't named.

No one in his family had harmed or disrupted the lives of any of the country's people; he was quite sure that Tazir would have a high interest in the name that was signed to the pamphlets—a Stefan Alrich Leinart, who signed himself as being the "president" of the country. He had no further interest in the pamphlets; he dumped the excess that his staff had brought in in the trash then he looked at the compilation photograph of his children. For the last three weeks, he wasn't able to take his eyes from it; he was haunted by it, for some reason. It caused him to feel a sense of grief or guilt, which he shouldn't be feeling.

The guilty feeling started being felt three weeks ago. Right after he got back from beating "Numbskull" in battle. For the better part of an hour, he did nothing but stand under the running water in his bedroom chamber's adjacent bathroom. The water had felt good. His many injuries might of stung after the cool refreshment fell on them, but he enjoyed the shower. He shouldn't feel guilty at all. "Numbskull" had hurt members of his family; he had just been repaying the man for all the hurt that he caused him and his family to go through. While he felt a little remorse over striking Bile with the whip he did feel that he was in the right on that one as well—had he not warned everyone to stand back? If he recalled correctly, he said rather loudly for everyone to stand back, Bile _had_ to of heard him. Bile was the one at fault for the one strike; if his great-great grandson would of stayed back he wouldn't of been hit or injured.

Not wanting to, but knowing that he had to, he went over to the photograph that seemed to be calling out to him. He took an album from the cabinet that was under the photograph then, very carefully, using the best, most gentle movements that he could conjure, he took the photograph down. He took the photograph and the album back to the chair that he had just gotten up from; the photograph was propped in front of him, he opened the album after taking a seat in the chair.

"A man can take but so much sorrow in a life; I nearly succumbed to my sorrow on more than one occasion." he said aloud as he started looking at the photographs of the children that he and his chosen partners had either lost before or after being born or that were lost after Shlock's Plague struck his birth galaxy.

He had photographs of all of them. Some were just plain sonograms—images taken of his young, who were still in the womb—while others were of his children who were born without breath or who died shortly after being born. Here was the "blob" that was his first child with his first and only wife, Nicolia Bloashi; that baby was in the womb for only four weeks before "disappearing". The photo on the opposite page was the second baby that he had with his first wife; it was another "blob", this child of his was in the womb for only ten weeks before "disappearing". The photo on the next page had a very blonde, but looking like a near-perfect replica of himself, infant in it. AenalaVile Daibi Surfeit was fine up to delivery; he and Nicolia were crushed after the physician in charge of the after-birth care of their newborn came back saying that their newborn was born deceased.

His first son was born a few years after Aenala; RaolVile Nyor Surfeit, a child that he mostly named after his father, was in the womb for thirty-six weeks. Though born breathing, he perished about an hour after birth. An umbilical infection was the cause for his passing. Raol was born with horns that strongly resembled his grandfather's, but he had his eyes. Another son was born after Raol; this one lived only sixteen weeks before perishing, the placenta that had around the baby had ruptured while Nicolia was sleeping. The photo of this son, UyzakaalVile Rynbrak Surfeit, showed a perfectly healthy, in-utero baby. The only child born alive from his first and only marriage was depicted on the following page; Ebaisha was a pretty, peppy, and downright spunky thing! He and Nicolia had relished in finally being able to hold and raise this child. The joy of parenthood was tarnished after the birth of their last child. The photo on the opposite page depicted a fully formed, but perfectly deceased, baby boy; QuoarVile Uwouck Surfeit was born with red-blond hair and glowing green eyes. He was also bi-colored, like him; the left side of his head and body was a peachy-orange color, while the other side of his head and body was a light gray color.

"The "blob" here, on this page, was the first child that Bikare Globoosie conceived for me. He/she lived for just two weeks before perishing." he said, after turning the page.

YalnzenVile Scalion Surfeit, his and Bikare's next born child, was born alive. He and his fiancée were relieved over hearing him cry; that relief turned to despair after he started coughing. Yalnzen, who had a half-green, half-yellow body and glowing, yellow eyes, died ten minutes after being born. Here was little HosstacranVile Maxe Surfeit; except for one area, he was born perfectly normal. His body, mostly green in color, except for his elongated ears, which were black, with striking, green Tiger-like stripes, was perfectly formed. Hosstacran was born without breath; the umbilical cord was wrapped around his little neck four times. He really wasn't sure over why the next child wasn't born alive; EpuvinaVile Dlai Surfeit, a sweet, little girl, was fine up to Bikare's beginning labor pains. Epuvina was a kicker. He was practically kicked out of bed by her. She looked most like her mother: purple eyes, lips, hair, and fingernails; her skin was a pretty, sparkly blue color, though. Bikare had pretty much closed herself off to wanting to be a mother after Epuvina's birth; while he had relished in being a father after their one and only daughter, EblouissieVile, was born, she had distanced herself from her. The "blob" that was on the next page was lost at fourteen weeks gestation; the physician in charge of Bikare's pre-natal care had just gendered the baby as a boy two days before the loss.

He and his next love, Egla Shaar, had a lot of kids together but, sadly, they only had one to show for it. Their first child was born at nineteen weeks gestation; like Angel, Egla had gone into pre-term labor. The baby, a girl, hadn't had a chance. The "blob" that was on the opposite page had spent just ten weeks in the womb before perishing; no gender was determined on that one. BuvotVile Couver Surfeit, who was on the next page, was born with the cord wrapped around his neck twice; all efforts by the physician had proved fruitless, Buvot had just refused to breathe or show any signs of life. The next child born to them was born at twenty-six weeks gestation; EszissVile Sholie Surfeit was born deformed—some of her organs were outside of her body. The infant that was on the next page had fooled them all. They were told that it was a boy; "he" was born "with a good set of lungs". AlaborieVile Beragi Surfeit had looked so much like her mother, right up to having her white hair and green eyes with yellow, cat-like pupils in their centers. Alaborie had lived only twelve hours before passing; her colon wasn't fully formed. They didn't know at the time about the deformity.

"We had a "break" from trying to have kids after Alaborie was born. I was off, conquering the Yon Galaxy, and she was visiting relatives. When I returned, we resumed our trying." he said as he took in the baby that was on the next page.

UkaeffaVile Fluef Surfeit was another of his and Egla's full-term babies; she was born big... a bit too big. Her bigness was her undoing, sadly. She got stuck in the birth canal; suffocation happened shortly after that happened. She had red hair, red eyes, and white hair. A son was conceived and then born next; the placenta that was around little TrawajiVile Egareo Surfeit, his perfect replica, had ruptured at thirty-five weeks gestation. Nothing on his, Egla's, or the physician's part was able to change the fate of that baby. The umbilical cord was also wrapped around his neck—five times! ShilaVile Eether Surfeit, who looked like a perfect blend of himself and his beloved Egla, had entered the Universe without so much as a gasp or peep. IrikirVile Chabor Surfeit was born so badly deformed that a gender was barely able to be determined before burial; he looked almost like Duru, except for having no ears, that was. TaelaVile Tarali Surfeit was active up to Egla's labor pains; no determination on the cause of death was made. Taela had looked like a little clone of her mother. A miscarriage was experienced five years later; the gender of the child wasn't determined due to the fetus being only five weeks along. A lot of begging was made on his part after the miscarriage; he had promised Egla, who was such an emotional wreck at the time, that, if the next one didn't make it, he'd get his scrotum—his boals, as he called them back then—snipped. While the birth of Duru was a blessing—the only child out of twelve attempts to remain living—, it came with a horrible price. Egla contracted Puerperal Fever, or Childbed Fever, soon after giving birth; instead of putting his happiness to the side to look after his woman, he continued being the happy new dad. Another horrible act in his history happened two weeks after his son's birth: Egla passed away. Even after all the efforts put in to save her, she still died. The call to the physician wasn't made in time.

"While my papa was sympathetic to our losses, hers was not," he thought after placing the album and the photograph back in their respective places in his ship's living room. "Egla was a young thing when we met, she hadn't even turned two thousand, nine hundred years old yet. Lorboriann kept going on, saying how I was turning her into a baby machine. He also said that her youth was the cause for so many lost pregnancies. I took a lot of flak in our relationship from him—he even tried to get me arrested for manslaughter charges after Egla died; he tried to put her death off on me. Her mammaw was also a bitch—Amjufaria had three children, all daughters, but she was particularly protective of Egla. When Egla and I started seeing one another, the two did all they could to keep us apart—they even tried moving away, twice! The words that came from Amjufaria's mouth still turn my blood to this day."

He shook his head at the memory of the Shaar's trying to get him arrested for molesting their daughter. The very thought of touching their daughter, who hadn't yet reached her adult years, was far from his mind. Most of their time spent in dating had revolved around seeing movies, eating meals, taking drives, and, yes, taking long walks in parks. Lorboriann Shaar had threatened him with a rifle once—right up under the chin; the man was serious in trying to scare him off. If not for Egla's persistence in wanting to see him, he would of dropped the relationship right then and there. Actually, he TRIED to drop the relationship long before the rifle incident; when an attraction was felt, it was really hard to stay away and say no.

He felt better after going through the album that had all of his children in it. The guilty feeling was gone; maybe all he needed was a little looksie at the past—it was a while since his last checking of the album, and he couldn't remember when he last remembered the ordeal that he went through with Lorboriann and Amjufaria Shaar. After placing the compilation photograph, and the album, back in their respective places, he went down to his ship's stable. He grabbed a saddle, a blanket, a bridle, then a riding crop then went down the stable's one aisle. The horse that he picked to tack was a young one; three years old, with good bone and pedigree. The color—whitish-gray, with a good splashing of brown and black spots all over—was unique in his herd of fifty. The white sclera was also unique; most of his animals had plain brown or black eyes. This one was a surprise. He tacked the horse up then led him out. He rode off at the same time that Bile, Lhaklar, and Guyunis were meeting up with Angus Behrends, Aubin Paternoster, Astor Bonnaire, Seth Horowitz, and Jarvis Adlersflügel.

"Dude! You're alive _and_ about!" Angus Behrends exclaimed after seeing Guyunis.

"And still there upstairs," Guyunis gave the side of his head a light knocking with his fist.

"And half mummied." Astor said. "Lhaklar said something a few days ago about how you and your dat got into a fight."

"Said you came home looking "bathed" in blood." Seth said.

"I was pu-k-t through a wood chipper." Guyunis smiled.

"As you can tell, his sense of humor is still intact." Bile mock-slugged a fist at Guyunis's head. Guyunis dodged the blow perfectly.

"And his reflexes are still as good as ever." Lhaklar said.

Lhaklar jumped after his adoptive brother placed his hand on his shoulder; he was wearing a muscle shirt that day. Since most of his other shirts were dirty, he was forced to don Mr. Blue-Muscle. His shoulder gave off a crisp white vapor right after Guyunis touched it. His brother had used a form of his Elemental Water power to make his shoulder go from being its normal temperature to freezing cold; he wiped his shoulder with his hand then shook it. Bile snickered then shook his head.

"His powers are good to go as well." Bile said.

"Mom said for you to take it easy and to not use your powers," Lhaklar said to Guyunis. He automatically took on an adult stance. "You're not healed enough; using your powers could make the healing process slow up."

"Don't think his use of the Freeze ability hurt him any," Bile said.

"Still the principle of it; he's been hurt, he needs to take it easy. Using his powers is _not_ a form of taking it ea—"

"Okay dat, I hear ya. Go back home, ge-k-t back in bed." Guyunis said.

Bile couldn't help himself on that one; he laughed. Good and hard and long. Lhaklar thought that he had lost it, while Angus and Aubin smiled silly, but all-knowing and understanding, smiles. Astor Bonnaire, Seth Horowitz, and Jarvis Adlersflügel didn't hang around Bile or Guyunis that much; they mostly hung around Lhaklar. They didn't know how to react to Bile's outburst.

When Bile was through with his bout of laughter, he suggested that they go down to the dump that was in Au am Rhein; Angus, Aubin, and Guyunis were for this, while Lhaklar, Astor, Seth, and Jarvis weren't. Lhaklar and his friends wanted to go somewhere else—somewhere that wasn't stinky, sticky, or messy. After a few minutes of back and forth chatter—Bile explaining why he wanted to go to the dump; Bile explaining that they could keep anything that they found; and Bile explaining that there was nothing wrong in their going to the dump—, they followed him. They reached the dump in ten minutes time; they started sifting around almost at once. Lhaklar's friends were reluctant to join-in on the fun, at first, then, when things started being found, they let their curiosity take over.

Astor found a whole set of pots and pans that looked brand new soon after starting in on the first heap of junk that his eye landed on. Seth found some blankets that were in relatively good shape and some weights that, again, were in good shape. Jarvis found a set of fine china, then some good silverware about ten minutes after he started sifting through the heaps of piled up junk.

"Hey! Bile," Aubin yelled over at Bile, who was between two big heaps of rather rank junk.

"Yeah?"

"Want your watch back?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Wasn't able to return it to you. Too much going on at the time, y'know." Aubin said after walking Bile's pocket watch over to its owner.

"Don't worry over it." Bile said. He pocketed the watch then went back to sifting through the piles of junk that he was between.

Lhaklar stayed near Guyunis; he felt a need to keep close to him, and to keep him in his sights. While he kept his sights on his brother, he sifted through the piles of stuff that were near him. He found a relatively fresh grocery bag that had a fairly new, Champagne-colored, ruffle romance rosette bed set in it soon after starting his search; a set of matching pillows—two sham and a throw—were found soon after the bed set was. His mother _did_ need a new set of bedding—the two sets that she had were getting a little faded; both were washed more than six times that month. The next thing that he found he was tempted to put on; it was a custom-made pendant. The pendant was made out of a purple-colored Fluorite crystal. He slid that into his pocket then decided to move his location. Just a bit. Just to give his search a more fresh feeling—searching in one spot could get boring right quick.

"Granddad'll have a _cow_!" he said five minutes later, after pulling a walnut finish box from the pile of junk that he had only just started sifting through.

"What is it?" Astor asked. Lhaklar walked the box over then opened it. "Dude! Serious? You've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me! Someone threw _that_ out?"

"They real or fake?" Lhaklar asked. His friend started sifting through the box's contents.

"Crystal Opal; light green Kyanite; long, phantom-clear Quartz; golden Topaz; and Aquamarine..." Astor said as he looked at each of the stones, some of which had already been cut for jewelry-use, that were in the box. "My dat would pay you handsomely for this whole box!"

"I take it that they're all real?"

"As far as I can tell, all genuine."

Lhaklar sent the box home via a spell then went back to looking for more trinkets and "treasures". His resumed search paid off a few minutes later, when he found a completed model of the Boothill Express—a type of custom-made, hearse-like vehicle that was based off a 1850 horse-drawn funeral coach. He left the dump with his three friends a few minutes later; they cleaned themselves up, had a private talk, smoked a few cigarettes, then returned.

"What is this, family day at the dump?" Lhaklar asked after seeing that his two, younger brothers had taken his place sometime during his absence.

"Must be," Hazaar, who was off to the side, having a smoke, replied.

Sometime after their temporary exit of the dump, Bile came by an old, but nearly mint in-condition, Atari XE game system. The system was missing a small chip on one of its corners, and it was filthy, but it looked in good shape to take home, clean up, then use. Hazaar and Lazeer were contacted after the system was found; they were asked if the system could be used at home, if they wanted it, and if they were going to use it right after teleporting to the dump. Three controllers—two joy-stick's and a handheld gun—and a whole slew of games were found soon after the two showed a clear interest in the system.

A Viking skull knife was found soon after the game system and its controllers and games were discovered, then, not long after the knife was found, a 12" Tanto, or short blade sword, that had skeleton art and etchings covering the handle and sheath, was found. Bile was agog with excitement over that find; he had even found the tanto's skeletal hand stand a few minutes later.

"Your collec-k-tion keeps get-k-ting better and better, B." Guyunis said after the Tanto was shown and then handed around.

An executioner style axe, that had a skull between the two blades, and a wire-wrapped grip, was found next; Guyunis was crushed after a .45 Cal., trigger assisted knife, that had skull designs on it, was found a few minutes later. He was blue for all of five minutes before perking up. He found an aqua seed bead necklace; a wolf tooth pendant, that had a howling wolf styled, titanium cap; two gold chain necklaces; then two pendants—a round, red onyx hung from one, while that other had a black onyx colomn hanging from it. Hazaar and Lazeer just stood around; they neither helped in the search nor started searches of their own.

The search of the dump was concluded ten minutes after Guyunis's finds were found; discoveries were starting to thin out, and the smell was starting to get a bit too nauseating. Bile led his four brothers, Angus and Aubin, Astor Bonnaire, Seth Horowitz, and Jarvis Adlersflügel out of the dump. They followed him in a straight line which, they quickly discovered, was a very bad idea. Guyunis's energy levels were very high. He was excited, and he was taking a few chances that were making them nervous. The chance that he took in sticking his arm out of the shield made them break out in a sweat. His acting like he was going to jump out of the shield made all of them swallow. Twice. When he followed through with the latter action, they stopped; his brothers gawked at him for just a second before getting hysterical.

"Are you insane!" Bile exclaimed.

"Get back in the shield!" Hazaar shrieked.

"You trying to get yourself killed?" Lazeer asked. He was trying to keep himself from calling their mother.

"Be silly and dangerous in here, under the safety of the shield." Lhaklar, who was pacing along the interior shield-wall, that separated him from Guyunis, said.

His mood hadn't yet wore off so, instead of doing as his bruders told him to do, he walked off. Into the heavy brush that flanked the far eastern side of Au am Rhein. Earlier, when he asked permission to leave the house, he was told no. His mum had wanted him to stay in for a while longer. She wanted him to be a little more healed before venturing out and getting into what she called "boy-mischief". He had only been allowed to leave the house after promising to stick near Bile and Lhaklar; his bandages were just changed when he asked if he could go out. Bile and Lhaklar had feigned annoyance over "babysitting" him; he had shown his annoyance clearly. Their mum had asked him if the decision on his leaving the house needed to be taken back after his annoyance was voice; he said no then went out with his bruders.

Even after his clear, and totally uncalled for, exhibition of annoyance over having to be with Bile and Lhaklar during his outing, he and his bruders had a good time. They stopped at one of their town's smoothie shops for a smoothie, then they gave a few, good-looking girlies a stare, then they met up with Angus, Aubin, Astor Bonnaire, Seth Horowitz, and Jarvis Adlersflügel—all of whom were called long before their exit of the house.

Mr. Leinart and Mr. Smith's visit was a long one. Mr. Smith had relayed all of the news from his end: he and everyone else in his refugee group were staying in Germany; the "Trolls" hadn't scared them off. His wife, a lady that he introduced as Winifred, had gotten a job about a week to two weeks ago. Since he was still dealing with the injuries that TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit had given him, he couldn't go out to find or get a job yet. His two daughters, Rebecca and Ashleigh, were doing just fine. Making friends and staying out of trouble. Mr. Leinart had said that everyone and everything on his end were doing well; there was a little thing coming up that he and his wife were attending—some sort of pool thing, where everyone just sat or relaxed in their bathing suits around a big ol' pool. His mum was given an invitation to join—she wasn't sure on attending. She said that, if things remained well at home, she'd give it a good consideration.

"Guyunis!" his bruder, Bile, yelled. "Come back, man!"

If he wasn't having so much fun in driving his bruders up a wall and back he would of gone back. He didn't understand the reason for why his bruders were so nervous about his leaving the shield; there was no one around—he was fine! The ground underfoot was wet and "mushy". Little shoots of green grass were coming up from the soil. The leaf-less trees around him looked to be trying to sprout some new leaves. The bushes were just as thick as could be; there were mushrooms all over the place. If he had a bag with him, he'd of started collecting some of them. Mushrooms were a good source of protein; he liked them and he sort of needed them in his diet. So did his family. Mushrooms kept a being healthy; his family could use a little extra protein in their diets.

The temperature for that day was "guessed" at seventy degrees; it felt a little warmer than that. He was sweating just a little bit. The bandaging that was around his torso was getting damp with his sweat; while that wasn't good, he didn't worry himself over it. His mum would probably look at the soiled bandaging then tell him to sit down. The day's third de-wrapping, checking, medicating, and then re-wrapping would happen afterwards. It was good to be and feel loved.

He had just stopped to gaze at the biggest colony of Champignons that he had ever seen—they were growing on a downed tree; the remnants of the trunk were covered with mushrooms—when he felt a pair of arms grab him around the middle. The arms that had him yanked him back with such force that his teeth clacked. The tip of his tongue, which was burned three weeks ago, and which was one of only two injuries on him to heal quickly, was nearly bitten after he was yanked back. He started flailing his arms at once; dread over leaving the shield seized him. He cursed himself for walking into a trap. He was in no shape to fight. His body was still broken, and sore; he'd not last a second in battle.

He had just kicked his leg back when he noticed the color of the arms that were around his middle. A relieved sigh escaped him after he noticed the colors—the left being yellow, the right green—then he turned around. Bile, his "abductor", stood before him; a brow rose, but no words were spoken.

"Trying to castrate me?" Bile, who was lacking the torn, brown shirt that he wore earlier, asked. "Y'came within a fraction of an inch of making me sing Dixie, Bro."

"Sorry," Guyunis said in a small voice.

"Tell that to my nearly assaulted testes." Bile said. He grabbed Guyunis by the shoulder then heaved him around. He then gave Guyunis a shove after he was facing the way he had come.

While Guyunis was a cool, little brother, he still experienced them moments where he was just plain annoying. The too-lively side that he just showed was a prime example of that; if times were different, they wouldn't of bat an eye at Guyunis's playful, abrupt exit of the shield. They'd of joked. Would of said little nothing's about his best getting back in before someone sees him then decides to play "hook" with his drawers. With the people in the Rastatter Rheinaue camp still around, and with Dark Dad playing prowl on the shield's exterior, it was very wise to stay inside the shield. He and his biological brothers had waited just two minutes before deciding to go out to retrieve Guyunis. Their friends had followed; that was right surprising. They had figured that their human "company" for the day would stay behind the shield. Would stay where it was safe. Instead, their friends followed them out then started helping them search for their AWOL brother.

Most of them decided to stay close together. Only he had ventured away from his group. Finding Guyunis, then bringing him back, was high on his current agenda of things to do. He was away from his group for maybe two minutes before locating his brother; a quick grab had done the trick in instilling a little fear on the creep. He hadn't meant to hurt him, or cause him to get worked up; all he was doing was playing out an example. He thumped Guyunis's head twice while on the walk back to the group, his brother turned to look at him on both thumpings. That made him laugh inside. A little pick-ons was good every once in a while; made the nerves settle, and it also helped in establishing "rank". In his mind, he was the oldest of their mother's children; he had a right in pranking and picking on his siblings.

His shirt was right where he left it: on a branch, that was just barely hanging on a rather thin-trunked tree, that had seen much better days. He grabbed and then tucked it into the back of his pants. It was a bit humid in his area; he was sweating. He was also a little uncomfortable. Walking around shirtless wouldn't hurt anything. It might just aid the wound that he had on his shoulder, chest, and upper stomach region to heal a little faster. Like Guyunis, his top-half was being treated to twice daily de-wrappings, checkings, medicatings, and re-wrappings. He was trying to not succumb to the current fussy nature of their mother; while he loved being loved and pampered, he _did_ like to have his space from time to time.

The "reunion" with their group went well. Lhaklar tried to act like the "Big Man" for all of two minutes before cooling down. Hazaar sighed in relief, then slugged a fist at Guyunis's right arm. Lazeer pushed Guyunis twice, then gave him a hug, then told him 'welcome back'. The humans sighed, then turned to look in the direction of the shield. It was nearly ten minutes since their exit of their safety-zone; while nothing had happened, they were still nervous. He let the reunion's happy activities go on for another three minutes before saying for everyone to follow him. He was in the process of leading his group of ten back to the shield when an explosion happened to their right; they had just turned in that direction when they bolted. Two Goat-like beings were charging at them from that side.

"See? This type of shit wouldn't be happening if you'd of not left the shield!" Lhaklar snapped at Guyunis.

"I didn-k-t know!" Guyunis yelled back.

The shield, which was only a hundred or so yards behind them, suddenly became too far for them to run to. Jarvis Adlersflügel put on the breaks right after seeing the man; he turned, then tried to make his way back down the worn-down path that they had just come from, while they either continued running or stopped. Jarvis didn't get far before stopping and then turning back around. Astor Bonnair, Seth Horowitz, and Angus Behrends shivered after seeing the man that barred their path. Aubin Paternoster took a step towards the man before stopping and then looking behind him to see what was going on. Bile grabbed Hazaar and Lazeer by the collar of their shirts; he yanked them to being behind him then he looked over at Lhaklar and Guyunis, who were the only ones that were "separated" from the group. The Goat-like beings, one with gray fur, the other with brown, ran up then stationed themselves so they couldn't get past. A Lizard-like being appeared on their right, while a man that looked half Scottish Terrier and half rat appeared on their left.

If it was only them four, they'd of been fine; he and his brothers would of been able to face off and then send them packing quickly. Sadly, that type of luck wasn't in their favor. The way to the shield was blocked by the man that he called Dark Dad. His action in grabbing his two, younger brothers was done with protection on the mind: Dark Dad had once attacked Lhaklar, who was off on his own at the moment; Hazaar was still walking around with a limp; and Lazeer's face was still very badly swollen. He didn't want to see his father turn them inside out.

"Excellent work, boys." Master Vile said after the fleeing group was stopped in their tracks.

"We aim to please Our Evil Excellency." the four men stationed around the group of ten said in unison.

A grin spread across his face as he took in the members of the group that was just captured. For months, he had waited for this day. Where he could get not one or two but all of them out in the open. The senseless beating of the one that stood just behind the man that his family continued to call his brother's son had only wet his whistle; it was time to finish what he started with the kid, and it was also time to off the two other brats and then claim his son as his.

He wasn't but so worried over Bile when he was fighting off the Goblins and then his uncle three weeks ago; Bile owed his size and strength to him. He gave his son his size and strength and his son had used both to his great advantage in keeping both parties at bay. While his son receiving that one lash from the whip that that bumbling bum-bum was a surprise, he had still not shown any concern over it; his son had gotten up afterwards. He had shown who was boss by claiming the very soul that Shaam was beating as his own. He was so ecstatic over the sudden change in his boy that he went back to the newly renovated White House for Martinis.

Rourke was stationed by the shield on the day that the dealings between his great-grandfather and the dark guy happened; a quick call was made then he teleported to the location quickly. He wasn't able to do anything else afterwards. His family, who were all on the shield's interior, had ignored his every call. He took care of them after the Martinis were consumed: each and every being involved in the skirmish that was going on inside the shield had received a nice fine from him. $3000 for not doing as he, the owner and ruler of the planet that they were on, had told them to do. So far, none of them had paid that fine; they had just twenty-four hours to go before he showed up with guards. Arrests would be made if that fine wasn't paid. Some of the children involved in the skirmish had also been fined—as a way to infuriate and then shame their parents; the fine for the young ones that acted as spectators to the event was $1,500. A small price, but one that'd still get some heads turning.

Lynster was given the order to keep close to his family's camps some months ago; by way of the Claydo, he found that, some weeks ago, his uncle had some form of contact with Angel. His Daughter-Mate was said to be a "prisoner" of the German people. They had her in a "bunker" somewhere. While that was unnerving, and highly concerning, he didn't think that was the case with her. Maybe she was being kept in the Chancellery, or in another building that made up the country's government; his daughter was an important being to the Earthlings, he knew that they'd not treat her in that fashion.

"According to what I was able to gather from the little device that I hooked up to the backside of your uncle's ship, she looked in good health and was dressed very formally for the occasion that she was attending." Lynster said after returning to relay the news of what he heard.

And why would his Daughter-Mate be attending an event or dressing "very formally" if she was a captive? Captives were people who were forced to wear the rags that they were either thrown or that the clothes that they were wearing when they were captured had become. His family were really showing their Fool Shoes; if they thought his daughter, who was attending events that she was appropriately dressed for, was a captive then they really needed to either schedule an appointment with a head-shrink or go home. Earth Air must be getting to them.

Bile's chest was heavily wrapped in bandaging; the top-half of the dark guy's body was also wrapped in bandaging. What did that tell him? His family might up and say that the two went to the hospital for treatment of their wounds; he was leaning heavily towards Angel being the doctor in charge of their care. Maybe, Bile brought the guy to wherever they were staying; Angel had a heart and then treated them both. Her goodness was nauseating at times, but it had good points. He viewed the care of their son as a good thing. Bile needed nurturing—not a lot, but a little—and Angel had given him it. The Hazaar-kid still had his limp and the Lazeer-kid had a horrible wound to his face that looked little-treated; what did that tell him? That Angel had abandoned them! Angel had picked the better of her offspring to care for. He disregarded the splint that was on Lhaklar's left arm; that could well of been placed there by someone working in a hospital or medical clinic.

"I see that you're hanging with a little better crowd nowadays." he said as he stopped before his son, who eyed him most distrustfully. "The humans may not be the best of company, but the ones that you've chosen to hang with are in a lot better shape than them puny, so-called brothers of yours. _My_ young son and, eventual, _heir_ , I approve. If you're to walk in my footsteps one day, you _must_ have good caliber company."

"He will _never_ walk in _your_ footsteps," Hazaar snapped.

"While that may be true now, he'll have a change in mood in the next coming months after I've removed him from this planet." he snarled at Hazaar, who snarled back. A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth; he kept the smile on as he turned his attention towards Lhaklar. "You and I have some unfinished business to take care of, Brat. We never finished our dance last year. It was most unfavorably interrupted."

"Yes, and I thank them full-heartily." Lhaklar said back.

"There are no "uncles" of yours around for a repeat, Boy. You best prepare yourself for pain." Master Vile said evilly. He then turned his attention towards Lazeer. "You, being the younger of the three to perish on this day, will be the quickest to fall. With that mutilated face of yours, you won't be that fast to prevent the pain that'll be inflicted on you."

"So says you." Lazeer said back.

"The humans in this group are to be captured and then transported to the Americas." Master Vile said to his staff, who nodded their heads in full understanding and agreement.

It happened fast. The two Goat-like men, the Lizard-like man, and the man who looked like a cross between a Scottish Terrier and a rat ran forward. Master Vile jabbed his hand at Bile's unprotected chest; after his son dropped to his knees, he grabbed Hazaar, who reciprocated the gesture. Master Vile's scream was heard for miles; the electric current that raced up his arm was so charged that his bones could be seen. Master Vile had just swiped his hand at the youngster when Guyunis sprang forward. A quick punch to the man's gut proved just the thing needed for an opening to the shield to be made. Angus Behrends, Aubin Paternoster, Astor Bonnaire, Seth Horowitz, and Jarvis Adlersflügel charged forward like panic-stricken bulls on a bull-run; they reached the shield with no trouble at all, then they turned to see what was going on with their friends.

Nygiti Meltin, now deprived of his duty, went after Lazeer. He grabbed and then restrained the kid quickly; Lazeer thrashed his arms and legs for a few minutes before going still. Rourke Ibmhun grabbed and then restrained Hazaar; a knee to the groin stopped the kid from fighting him. Lynster Purlachi grabbed and then shoved Lhaklar against a tree; he held him firmly in place, then he waited for orders. Galong Exadhoo stood between Bile and Guyunis; he was ready should he be needed to cause any pain to either of the two kids that weren't yet restrained. Master Vile recovered from being punched slowly; when his recovery was over, he stood tall. He walked towards Guyunis, who stood his ground bravely.

"My brother made a good son in you," the man said to Guyunis. "I'm surprised, though, that after so many months of causing grief for these four—" he gestured at Bile, then at Lhaklar, then at Hazaar and Lazeer. "—you've decided to stick up for them. You've got good blood in you. If not for my brother being your father, you'd be joining the three brats that are to be destroyed today. Be a good Surfeit and stand to the side, will you? I'd hate to add you to today's brutally-done activities."

Nothing more infuriated him than seeing his family be hurt by others. The man that stood before him had hurt his family on more than one occasion, and not just in the real recent past either. He had caused his mum pain; had raped her, had put marks on her body sometime before Bile's birth. He tried to kill Bile and Lhaklar when they were mere infants. He tried to kill Lhaklar last year, in November. He tried to prevent Hazaar's, and then Lazeer's births. He caused his mum to be stressed after his youngest bruder was born. While the man was big and powerful, and stood two and a half inches taller than he, he didn't look all that imposing. The blue-tinted glasses that he wore were outlandish; the black robe looked more like a dress than a robe; the breast-plate was too shiny; the shoulder wraps were too bulky... how anyone could be intimidated, or take the man, who wore all of this strange attire, seriously was beyond him.

The power that he feared was released right after the man said his little speech. The man went flying; the vapor that he shot at him flung him towards the shield. The man was flung back, towards him, after the shield zapped him. A series of bright sparks flew from the Lizard-like man that was nearest him. His bruders were released; they dropped to the ground as he fired his unknown power at their restrainers. The Scottish Terrier/rat thing sent a stream of energy at him; the energy exploded after his green and orange burst collided with it. Another burst sent the creature flying high. A band of his unknown power came out of his eyes next; when it struck the Goat-like man, who had gray fur, a mighty explosion was heard. The gray-furred, Goat-like man dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes right after being struck by his unknown power.

The other Goat-like man fought him for a short while before succumbing to violent spasms; he used his unknown power to grab the man at the last second. As his final opponent lay on the ground, shaking and frothing at the mouth, he walked forward, towards his brothers. He and they regrouped, then went back to the shield quickly; the humans surrounded them for just a second before backing off. Even though they were talking, he couldn't hear them. Once again, for the second time that year, he had lost his hearing.

"Dude! One of these days, you'll have to teach me that Fire ability of yours." Bile said. He turned to look at Lhaklar. "I told you, didn't I? He can do combination fire! Green with an orangey inside."

"Teach all of us, not just Bile. You practically beat Master Vile and his minions with both of your arms tied behind your back!" Hazaar exclaimed.

"They never stood a chance!" Lazeer yelled.

Lhaklar noticed that something wasn't right with him quickly; he tottered, just barely holding onto his balance, for a minute or so, then dropped to one of his knees then, not long after, his side. The power that he had just used had come from him so easily. So little effort on his part was used after that power was used, but, like all the other times that he had used it, he was effected by it. He started coughing up blood, then he started frothing at the mouth right after falling to his side; his bruders stared at him for only a second before going to action. The last thing that he saw, before his vision was lost, was them arguing. They argued for thirty seconds before turning to look at him; his vision blacked out after Bile came forward.

"Guyunis? You okay?" his bruder asked.

He never answered that question. He lost contact with the world around him; all feeling ceased as he fell into that void of sleep that he was all too familiar with.


	52. Chapter 52

_From the Gamma Vile Gluk Gadrel, March 23, 4101 (Page 1)  
_ _Master Vile Admitted to Bolshaviks; Nearly Succumbs to Radiation Poisoning_

 _It was a surprise to all who work at Bolshaviks Hospital, located in the Keenria District of Gamma Vile, when Master Vile, our ruler, was escorted through the doors. Many thought that it was a prank, while others retained a professional stance in the man's indomitable presence; it's a good thing too because, if not for the actions of the three doctors and the two dozen nurses that went to his quick aid, he'd be dead._

 _Master Vile's entrance to the hospital happened two days ago. It's been reported by many of the hospital's staff that he was gravely ill at the time of his arrival and that, currently, he is still very ill. A janitor, who wishes to remain anonymous, said that the floor from the door, to the lobby, then on down to the elevators was soaked in the man's blood. The elevator car that took our ruler to the hospital's second floor was also soaked in the man's blood. A respirator was applied and then removed after the man reached one of the available rooms on the second level of the hospital; more than three surgeries had to be done to stop an issue with two of his internal organs about thirty to forty minutes after his arrival._

 _"The matter that he came in was most shocking; none of us have seen so much blood being dripped or trailed along the floors of this hospital in many, many years. Our Ruler's condition is still grave, but he is hanging in there; our staff is doing everything that they can to ensure his survival." one of the doctor's in charge of our ruler's care said to reporters earlier today._

 _The cause of Master Vile's grave condition has been pinpointed on one cause: Radiation poisoning. Though he won't say how he came to be poisoned by radiation, it's suspected that something happened on his recently made, planetary conquest. The planet Earth, our ruler's only lone-ruled planet, has proved to be a rather difficult planet for our ruler to conquer. It's managed to evade Master Vile's conquest for over two thousand years; though only half-conquered, our ruler still claims full ownership of the planet. The Humans that roam the planet's surface (and that are the only sentient forms on the planet) have remained disobedient to our ruler. Even after a year of conquering, civil unrest (illegal parades, riots, sit-ins, and intentional sabotage) still occur on the planet._

 _Four men also came in with our ruler. Nygiti Meltin, Rourke Ibmhun, Lynster Purlachi, and Galong Exadhoo are all said to be exhibiting similar symptoms that our ruler's been experiencing. It's believed that the four men, who are all employed by our ruler, and who were all on Earth with our ruler, were with our ruler at the time of the poisoning. So far, and despite some moments were things looked bleak, none who've entered Bolshaviks have succumbed to their poisoning. None of the four men that entered the hospital after their employer have mentioned how their poisoning happened._

 _Vhajippae Meltin, wife of Nygiti Meltin; Achlika Exadhoo, wife of Galong Exadhoo; Staeppi Marar, long-time girlfriend of Rourke Ibmhun; and Altakeawa Purlachi, the wife of Lynster Purlachi, are all at their men's side. It's curious to note that no visitors have come by our ruler's room; none of his family, most of whom are on Earth, have paid him so much as a phone call during his residency in the hospital. While many are wondering why, there are some who believe that their absence revolves around our ruler's daughter, Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit, and her four sons, who have all been missing, yet have all been seen countless times on the planet that our ruler's been on for nearly a year._

 _While our ruler's and the four men's conditions remain dire, the hospital has assured many that they are in the best of capable medical hands and that they are under constant watch._

If things were different between them—if he hadn't tried to kill Lhaklar last year, or marked him or Bile with death sometime after their births, and if he wasn't such an arrogant asshole that wanted everyone and everything to worship the very ground that he walked on or bow down to him whenever he appeared—, she'd of been concerned about his well-being. The article that she had just read was nine days old; no other articles on her father's well-being had been written since. Either the man had died from his "poisoning" or he gave the order for any and all newsprint stories on him to cease. The only way she got her hands on the paper from Gamma Vile was by plain trickery: teleport to the planet that was under her father's control then assume a different form; no one had noticed or had given her a second look.

At the moment, she had better things to do than be worried about her famously evil old man. Guyunis was brought home unconscious eleven days ago; he and his brothers had an encounter with her famous old man that very nearly turned dangerous. According to her sons, Guyunis had fought her father, and then his four staff, with some power that none of them knew he possessed. Bile described it as a "fire" or "vapor" that had an orangey interior glow; no powers that she knew of had that description. If not for her other sons, she'd of thought that he was exaggerating his description of what he saw. She'd of gone on thinking that Bile had meant "a plain green fire" if not for Lhaklar's, Hazaar's, and Lazeer's insistence that he was being frank in his description.

At the time of her sons' return home, she hadn't cared about what powers were exhibited or used. Guyunis had practically been carried inside; one of his arms was around Lhaklar's shoulders while the other was around Bile's. He didn't walk in on his own power; he was unconscious, and his mouth had a ring of white around it. Blood had also been dripping down his chin. She helped her two sons take Guyunis upstairs then she asked for everyone to meet her downstairs in the living room. A talk on what happened had happened ten minutes later.

According to her sons, up to their exit of the Au am Rhein dump, everything was going well. Guyunis had gotten a little too excited after they left the dump; he left the shield and they followed to retrieve him. They had only just started back towards the shield when two men opened fire on them; the two men, both of whom she knew, and both of whom were written of in the Gluk Gadrel, had chased them a ways before slowing up. Her father, the evil Master Vile, was blocking their way to the shield. He hadn't let them past. They were surrounded soon after her father was seen; Lhaklar and Guyunis were separated from the group, and Bile was left with protecting Hazaar and Lazeer.

An attack was made on her sons after her father did a speech; the still tender and rather fragile gash that went across Bile's chest was open and bleeding when he returned home. His father had hit him there; the man was going after Hazaar, who was hiding behind Bile at the time. Hazaar had used a form of his Energy powers to attack the man after he grabbed him, then he found himself being restrained by one of the four men that were keeping him, his brothers, and their friends in the area. Hazaar received a knee to the groin after being restrained; an injury that he still had after returning home. While Lhaklar and Lazeer were also restrained, they weren't harmed; her father had acted "cordial" with Guyunis after he attacked him. Guyunis's attack on her father happened shortly afterwards.

"That's the second time that I've seen him use that power," Bile said after all of what happened was told.

"Second?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah, the first time that he used it, he was fighting his father. Seemed to of had very good control of it." her son said back.

"Man, Bile was all over Guyunis after we got back in the shield." Hazaar said, rather loudly and enthusiastically.

"So were you," Lazeer said. A punch in the shoulder was given, then a minor fight started between the two that she quickly stopped.

Although she could of grounded her biological sons for leaving the shield she hadn't; they had only left the shield to retrieve Guyunis—that action wasn't punishable. If Guyunis didn't get sick after returning home, she'd of grounded him. Her adopted son's symptoms were similar to those that he exhibited at the start of March: a very productive cough, an extremely high fever, and shaky spells. He hadn't been bothered by chest pains, thank goodness! The extremely high fever was very worrisome for her; she didn't need to worry about her son's chest hurting him too. Eleven days after being brought home, he still felt sick... but he was getting better. Slowly. Very slowly.

Sabine, her son's nearly eight month old kitten, was still a very loyal thing. When she came into her son's room, she found the cat peacefully resting on the side of the pillow that her owner wasn't using. Guyunis was facing the wall; the poor thing looked depressed. With being bed-ridden for eleven straight days, she guessed that he had a right in feeling depressed. She went to her son then, after sitting carefully beside him, reached her hand over. Towards his head. It was time to do a check on his temperature; the last time that she checked him, he was a hundred and one degrees. Her hand had just been placed over his forehead when he rolled over.

"Well, hello there." she said after he finished rolling over.

"Mum," he said back.

"Glad to see that you've got a little more strength today," she said as she laid her hand flat against his forehead. "Temperature seems to of dropped a little; I'll need the thermometer to be sure, but you feel less warm than you were an hour ago."

"Mum," Guyunis said.

"G?"

"C-can I ge-k-t some more juice, please?" her son asked.

"Sure. Want some crackers too?"

Guyunis nodded his head. She went down to get him what he asked for then she went back up to him; while on the way, she stopped to grab the thermometer—which was placed in the downstairs bathroom. When she returned to her son's room, she saw that her son had since sat up. His cat was now in his arms; the soft purs, that were coming from the animal, told her that she was content. She placed the cup of juice, and then the thing of crackers, down on her son's night stand before sitting down on the bed. The thermometer read a hundred degrees; her son's fever _had_ dropped a degree in temperature—she felt like jumping up and down for joy over that!

"I hate being-k sick!" her son moped after taking one of the crackers from the roll.

"Won't be long now, give it a few more days." she said, trying to be reassuring.

"I suppose my bruders told you what I did to that g-k-uy?" Guyunis asked after choking down the cracker that he took from the roll.

"They didn't give specific details, but they did mention that you fought him, then his four cronies." she replied. "That took guts, G. It was dangerous, but I'm proud of you for sticking up for your brothers."

"I wish it'd g-k-o away!"

The cat, who was perfectly content only seconds before, jumped from her owner's arms then scurried away to the bed that she very rarely used. As the cat got herself situated, she listened to her son ramble on about how he wished a certain something, that he didn't express the name of, would go away. Her son cursed this unknown thing. He threw a menagerie of words that made her jaw drop at this thing, then he started rambling about how it was ruining his life; the idea that he was talking about the ones that were constantly causing him harm, and that were keeping him from living his life like normal—the people that lived in the Rastatter Rheinaue camp—, came to her mind for only a second before disappearing.

No, Guyunis couldn't be talking about them. While they were a nuisance, and while they had caused him pain and grief, they weren't really causing him to miss out on living his life. Guyunis was a bounce-back type of kid. If something happened to him, he bounced back from it quickly; she knew this because she had seen it. Had he stopped living after his two fights with Duru, or his one fight with Trobrencus, or his fight with his father? No, he went on being the same, old Guyunis. Her son was upset over something else... something of which he was now claiming as the source for his illness.

"G," she said as she placed her hand over one of her son's. "What're you rambling about, son? What's got you so upset?"

"This power that I have." her son said, after stopping to give it a ponder on telling her the truth of what he was rambling about.

"What's this power you have, Guy?"

"I don-k-t know!" Guyunis nearly yelled. "All I know is tha-k-t I get exhausted, and then sick, after using it—real sick, mum, and usually for a week. Radiation is also found in the area where I've used this power."

"Radiation?" Angel asked. The article, that she had just gotten through reading, suddenly loomed in her mind. Her father and his four minions were admitted to Bolshaviks for radiation poisoning sometime after their encounter with her sons; did this power have anything to do with that poisoning? "How much radiation is found, do you know?"

"Sometimes a lit-k-tle, sometimes a lot." Guyunis replied.

"It varies?"

"Yeah." Guyunis looked down at his lap. "The evacua-k-tion of your former town—in America, mum—was caused by me. I used this power on your old apartment, then on the nearby island."

"Expedition Island," Angel said, automatically making the connection.

"Yes," Guyunis nodded his head. "I don-k-t like this power, mum. I'd like for it to go away. I haven't been training-k with it and I haven't been trying to use i-k-t either. The last few times that I've used it, i-k-t seemed stronger. I think my prolonged sicknesses are caused by that."

"How long have you had this power, G?" she asked.

"Since I was real little." Guyunis replied. "Eight hundred and thir-k-ty, I think."

Now, if she was a normal parent, one that had no magical skills, or that wasn't over two thousand years of age, she'd of told him that he had a very vivid imagination. Since she was of magical backing, and since she knew that he was being serious about what he was telling her, she believed him; she didn't tell him to not use the power that he had, and she didn't tell him to forget that he had ever had this power. By law, he, the wielder of this power, owned this power; it'd be wrong of her to tell him to not use something of himself and she's also be breaking the law if she went and started telling him to not use this unknown power. That went double for her telling him to forget about it. She told him to be careful whenever he was out then, seeing as he was so upset, she had him scoot over.

The other women who acted as the maternal figure in her son's life didn't allow her son to indulge in feeding via the breast; they had only been interested in making her son's life a living hell. They would probably scoff at the very idea of their letting the boy latch on. She typically only allowed her sons to take milk from her breasts when they were very sick, badly injured, or very upset; Guyunis was all of them things. His injuries had slowed up in healing, he was very emotionally and mentally upset, and he was also feeling the strain of his illness. Her adopted son, who she loved just as much as her biological children, merely looked at the exposed gland that she was holding out to him. He took a while to figure out what she wanted him to do then, after a few seconds of reluctance, he latched on.

His suckle was awkward, at first. He wasn't taught how to nurse; his initial sucklings had always started awkwardly. Since he wasn't taught how to suckle, or take milk from the breast, he had to go by pure instinct and clumsiness. It took him five, awkward suckles before settling down to nurse like normal; she let him have the whole breast. When he started nursing from her normally, she placed her hand behind his head; she cradled him for at least an hour before deciding that he was latched on enough. When he de-latched from her, he fell instantly asleep. His head had no more hit the pillow before his usual, rumble-like snores began being emitted.

The first week of April went by so fast, she barely remembered anything of what happened. Another spurt of unusual weather settled over her and her family's corner of Germany after the clock struck midnight on the first of April; torrential storms occurred all over the southern portion of the country. She and her family took refuge in the basement on the second, third, and then fourth of April, after a bunch of tornadoes were seen near their place. It was very, very windy on the fifth of April; the day after, it was just as cold as could be. The seventh of April started off very bleak; a cold drizzle fell. The sun came out after eleven-thirty. Her sons, all of them, not just her biological ones, were itching to get out. She kept them in for another day before letting them leave the house.

The eighth of April started beautifully! Good, rich sun rays warmed the chilled ground. A small, but very warm, breeze blew. Birds were flying about, making their calls. The neighborhood animals were out and about. The neighbors—all of whom had gotten plenty worried about her and her family after Bile came in screaming for her on the twenty-eighth of February—started getting busy in tending their flowerbeds and vegetable gardens straight away. If not for the task that she had set herself down to doing that day wasn't already set "in-stone" she'd of gone by their example in tending her own flowerbeds.

She sat down to write a few things right after her and Guyunis's talk. All of what she had wrote had revolved around what her son had told her on his unknown power—the description that Bile used, all of what Guyunis had told her on the power that he had, and all of what her other biological children knew on the power that Guyunis had. When she went around, asking Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer if they knew of any other instances where her adopted son had used or shown his unknown power, she learned of a certain something that they were keeping from her—an event took place last year, in late-October, between Guyunis and Baruk, Gaajah, and Selik. According to Bile and Lazeer, they and Guyunis, and some of Bile's friends, had left the shield to go play in a nature reserve that, they claimed, was a distance from the one that their family were currently all residing in; Guyunis was unjustly attacked by Baruk, Gaajah, and Selik on the thirty-first of October. Bile claimed that he saw the same "Fire Ability", as he continued to call it, being used on that day.

While miffed over not being told about the events that fell on that day, she didn't get on her boys about what happened; she wrote everything down, then she did some reading, then, after that reading was complete, she decided that a trip to see a longtime friend was in the works for the immediate future.

"I'll be away for a while—got plans to visit a friend on Tactai7, plus, I also have double-duty at work—so, behave yourselves and be sure to be home on curfew. Just because I'm not home doesn't mean that you can all run around like you've lost your heads." she said before her sons went out.

"Tactai7? Isn't that the place where one of your longtime lovers lives?" Lazeer asked a few minutes after she gave the order for them to behave themselves and to be home on curfew.

"Friends, Lazeer. Not lovers." she corrected quickly.

"That's what she said the last time she "paid him a visit"." Hazaar said to Guyunis.

"She stayed with him all night long." Lhaklar joined in.

"Would of stayed for most of the morning if we hadn't called her." Bile said.

"We were hungry. We needed our breakfast." Lazeer said.

She smoothed the rosette ruffled, champagne-colored bed set that Lhaklar found for her at the Au am Rhein dump over her bed then stepped back; with her sons finally out of the house and, temporarily, out of her hair, she decided to do a few things in the house before going off to meet her friend. She really liked the bed set! It was unique and pretty; it sure brought a new light to her room. The three pillows—one a throw, the other two a sham—were just as new as the bed set was; she wouldn't be surprised if they and the bedding weren't thrown out together. Bile had said something about going out to find her a neck roll pillow that matched the set a few days ago, before the tornadic activity started and their plans were scrapped for the first week of the month. If he followed through with that plan, she'd have a full set on her bed; she wouldn't cry or throw a fuss if he didn't, though. Her bedroom furnishings were really her department to worry about, not his.

Lhaklar and Guyunis went off together that morning, after breakfast; their first reported stop, before going off to "goof around" with some of their friends, was to the pawn shop in town. Lhaklar wanted to get all of the stones that he found at the dump assessed. He also had a pendant that he wanted assessed. Guyunis was just hanging around him for the day; it seemed that her secondborn son and her adopted son were bonding a little more.

Guyunis was already told to not leave the shield; he promised to obey her, and to stay out of trouble. Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer were also told to not leave the shield; they also promised to obey her. All of her sons were given their April allowances—usually, she paid the bills before giving them their allowances; after all of what happened in their lives in the last few months, she decided to give them a little break.

With the mountain of dishes, and the kitchen and dining room floors, done, and her bed newly dressed, she grabbed her purse then left the house. Her chosen place of teleportation? The biggest, greatest, and most complete library in the M-51 Galaxy: Tactai7, one of the moons that orbited the mostly iron ore-covered planet of Obnu.

"Mr. Axagomas?" she said after reaching her destination.

Her voice echoed throughout the many corridors that ran along the small moon's surface; Tactai7 was turned into a library a long time before her father's conquest of his birth-galaxy. Since it was a plain library, it wasn't touched by her father's ruthless armies. The library's "floor" was nothing but the moon's smooth-rock surface; no carpet existed on the library's "floors". A blue-black sky, that had gray clouds drifting in it, looked down at her; bookcases and ladders stretched up, and then disappeared, in that sky. Like with the carpets, no chairs or other sit-on items existed in this library. It was a come-by, look, with-draw, then leave type of place.

The librarian who took over for the old one sometime after her father's ruthless conquest of the galaxy was still looking over the place. He was a little witty and defensive at times, but he was also very well-known for his smarts and for his friendliness. The man had an iron-gut stomach—had to if he was to take books from the top-shelves of the bookcases, or put books that had previously been withdrawn back in their respective high-places. The last time that she saw the man, her children were very young. In their kid-years; between one thousand and four hundred years old.

"Zorax?" she said.

A smile spread across her face after a bang was heard; something rolled along the ground for a while before stopping and then resuming its roll. She waited. She was standing in the middle of the corridor; she didn't know which of the ladders were being used. To be squashed in a place like this would set a being back some months, not to mention, it would be quite embarrassing. The rolling continued being heard for a while then, like that, a brown-wood ladder appeared. The ladder snapped to a stop then a creature that strongly resembled a Goblin, but that wasn't a Goblin, descended.

"My old friend!" the creature, Zorax Axagomas, said after seeing her. "It is a very nice day today, is it not? I have not seen you in forever."

If she said or mentioned anything about her friendship with the fellow that stood before her to anyone that worked for Tazir, she'd of gotten a funny look; Goblins didn't see eye to eye with this one species. While Imp's were far distant cousins to the Goblin race, they didn't get along with their one-time kin. A war was waged between the two species nearly a million years ago. It had something to do with one species encroaching on another's space or something. The two species tried to steer clear from one another; bitter words were still being spoken to that day between the two species.

The basic height for an Imp was three to four feet; Zorax Axagomas stood three and a half feet tall, so he was between average. The ears that stood up from the sides of his head were long. His skin was green and slimy-looking. He had many hairy warts and wrinkles on his face. His deep set eyes were a most dazzling blue color. He had an alarmingly thin body—yet another characteristic of his species; Imp's were short and usually pencil-thin. Zorax met that critia to a T. While his hands were hairy on top, they were very thin and wrinkled. The man was wearing a black suit, with a black shirt and tie.

"Hello, Zorax. How'v you been lately?" she asked her friend.

"Good. Could be better—seems that with every turn I either see product from that blasted Goblin race walking my halls or I hear the echo from their too-loud voices."Zorax replied.

"That bad?" she fought the urge to roll her eyes; she wasn't even five minutes arrived and yet, here she was, hearing her friend's torrent of resentment-filled words towards the Goblin race.

"Yes! Seems like a massive population boom's happened with the Goblins! Five thousand years ago, I'd see maybe a hundred or so Goblins a year. As of the last three thousand years, that number has more than quadrupled!" Zorax replied. "In contrast to my own species, the number I see a year's stayed the same. Around two hundred or so."

"I found it!" a feminine voice sounded down their corridor, then echoed throughout the library-moon; she cringed when she heard it, while Zorax remained unbothered by it.

"See what I mean? According to my monitors, there are twenty Goblin kids roaming the halls of this vast library at this very moment. They're all the same every year—disrespectful; there's signs all over the place, saying for patrons to keep their voices down. Everyone but the Goblins that pay this library a visit go by them." Zorax said.

"Need any help with putting things—books or magazines—up?" she asked.

"I take it that you didn't just come by to help me put things away in this library," Zorax said. He suddenly gave her leg a tap with one of his hands. "Looking right nice for one who's had four kids."

"Thank you," she felt slightly uncomfortable; she was wearing skin-tight, black leggings and a purple, pull-off-the-shoulder, tunic top mini dress. While nothing was exposed on her, her outfit would attract some attention—and, in the case of her friend, who spent a good chunk of his time stuck "in the office", that was exactly what it did. "You're a smart little thing—yes, you're correct; I didn't come here to just help you put stuff away on the shelves. One of my sons has an issue that's bothering him, thought I'd come here to see you and to see if you know what it is that's bothering him."

"Follow me, then." Zorax said. "I believe I need a break anyways."

Zorax's one-room apartment was much the same—big enough for one who stood between three and four and a half feet tall. She had to bend down to get in through the small door, then she found herself nearly dropping down to her knees afterwards; Zorax, the poor, lonely thing, tried his best to not snicker or smile at her. The brown leather couch, and its matching chair, were placed to the far right of the apartment's small living room. A twenty-inch tv sat on a small bench in front of the couch; between them was a short coffee table that was made of mahogany wood. Like with the library, the apartment wasn't carpeted. A glass beam ran around the room; the yellow light that came from it lit the room nicely. Zorax went over to the room's one chair; she picked the couch to sit on. Once seated, she noticed that there were a few newspapers on the coffee table; it looked like all of them had come from Gamma Vile.

What her children didn't know wouldn't hurt her: she and Zorax _had_ actually come _very_ close to "doing it" on the night that Lazeer had referenced that morning. It was Zorax's birthday; he had no family to spend the day with. After her sons were safely in bed, she went over to keep him company. She and Zorax had a few too many drinks on that night; if not for her sons' contact, and constant complaints on how hungry they were, she'd of followed the man to his bedroom. He had hinted around the area all night, and she had reciprocated each hint with a sly joke. The resulting hangover from that night, coupled by the shame that she felt in coming very close to breaking her promise in staying faithful to Tazir, had made her come close to breaking her friendship with the man; they spoke about the event a week later. While things were squared away with them then she still thought that there was a small piece of him that wished that she'd spend more than a friendly moment with him. His action of tapping her leg earlier had shown that small piece that she thought he harbored.

Being a librarian on a moon, that was turned into a library, was hard and lonely work; she truly did feel for the man. His job was causing him to miss out on life.

"Place looks good, Zorax." she said. For a bachelor, Zorax seemed to take very good care of his apartment; not a thing was out of place and, except for the newspapers on the coffee table, everything was neatly arranged in their chosen places.

"Thank you, do try my best." Zorax said. He said nothing more for a few minutes before leaning forward. "What's this issue your son has? As you know, my library is full of any volume of book known and written on male issues—the first date, how to propose, puberty, toddler and infant—"

"My son's issue doesn't cover any of them areas." she replied. "It revolves around a power that he has. He's right terrified of it."

"Which of the four are we talking about—aren't all of your kids in their teenage years?" Zorax asked.

"Five," she said, quickly correcting the number of offspring that he had referenced her as having. "I adopted a child recently—Guyunis, you may remember?"

"Think I recall getting a photo that had a night-dark child in it among your... other children." Zorax replied.

"That's him! A lot's been happening lately—certain people, who I won't mention the name of, have been causing him a lot of grief over the last few months. He's been using this power that neither he nor I know of; he's terrified of this power... so much so that he's now wishing that it'd go away." she replied.

"Tell him to practice with it. Powers can be tricky, and scary, at first. Once we learn how to use them, we accept them. Any and all fears felt towards them are then lost afterwards." Zorax replied.

"This power makes him very sick after every use." she said. Zorax blinked his eyes then sat back in his chair.

"How sick?" he asked.

She dug in her purse for the material that she compiled on the issue that they were talking about then, when she had what she was looking for, she took it from the bag then handed it over. For a fleeting second, she thought she saw recognition on the man's face. It was there, then it was gone; she couldn't confirm or deny seeing it. Zorax took a right long time in reading/looking over the material that was on the two sheets of paper; he nodded his head a few times, his eyes took on a cloudy look twice, he licked his lips once, before going still. When he gave the material back, he had a far distant look on his face; she only needed to see that look to know that he was thinking about what he had read. Librarians, though smart, sometimes did come up empty-handed on some things.

Maybe the power that her son had to his disposal was new. Uncatalogued. Unused by anyone until now. Guyunis was a special type of boy; unique in appearance, very well-behaved, he seemed very powerful and in-tune with his powers, and he was also very smart. If Zorax didn't know what she wanted to know then she could always go to a different library-moon, or do some heavy-duty reading in the one that she was currently in. She couldn't just tell her son that she couldn't help him in his issue with this power that he was afraid of. She was his mother, she had to help—

"I'm taking a long-shot in asking this but... is he the cause of Master Vile being in the hospital?" Zorax asked, breaking her thoughts.

"Yes. The man was attacking my sons. Guyunis was only trying to protect them." she replied.

"What's his lineage? Do you know who his real parents are?"

"Yes. My great-great grandfather, ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, is his father. His mother's a human, her name's Lisa Ann Wahlberg." she replied.

"Any powers on the maternal side?"

"No, Lisa's a plain, normal, boring human."

"Powers are inherited from somewhere in the pedigree-line; if he didn't get this power from his mother, then he got it from his father." Zorax said.

"He inherited his Energy and Elemental powers from his father, I'm not so sure on this one though. There's nothing that says that ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit can do or make a fire that has an orangey inside." she said. "No radiation is left behind after my great-great grandfather uses his powers, either."

"Maybe..." Zorax stopped. He got real thoughtful for a second before standing up. "Follow me, think I recall one in your and his line that had such a power to his disposal."

As it turned out, the box of gemstones, that he found at the Au am Rhein dump, was both valuable and valueless. His buddy Astor was correct in their all being genuine, but he fibbed on his father paying "handsomely" for the whole box. Astor Bonnaire Sr. had looked over every stone that was in the box after he and his brother had walked in the door. The man was very smart. He knew his stuff, which was why he took the "goods" to him instead of to some guy who claimed to be an expert in knowing how to value gemstones.

The aquamarine gems that were in the box were the most valuable of the lot; Mr. Bonnaire had assessed them as being between €160.26 and €180.95. The golden Topaz stones that were in the box were the next valuable; they were assessed as being between €173.77 and €179.76. The light green Kyanites were assessed at around €15 a karat, while the crystal Opals were assessed at a euro a karat. The Phantom-clear Quartz's were the most depressing find in the box; they couldn't be valued. Mr. Bonnaire had checked; he put everything that he had into checking them over for a value price. In the end, he just said that, if they were real and not fakes, they'd fetch around eighteen to twenty euros each as was.

The purple Fluorite pendant that he also found at the dump was assessed at being around €12.73; that baby was around his neck. He had no intention in parting with it.

Guyunis had also brought four of his six finds with him to be assessed. The two gold chain necklaces were assessed at being between €20 to €30 each, while the two onyx pendants were assessed at being around €3.56. Guyunis left the store with one of the gold chains and one of the onyx pendants around his neck; the other two items that he brought along were sent home via a spell shortly after their exit of the pawn shop.

"Man, if I were you two, I'd take all of what you took to my dat to someone else." Astor, who left the pawnshop with them, said. "I thought my dat would assess them correctly."

"Didn-k-t he?" Guyunis asked.

"Hell no!" Astor exclaimed. "All of what you two saw back there was a put-on show! He just took his Loupe out then pretended to look at what you were showing him."

"Should we find someone else to look at our stuff—your gem box and my chains and pendan-k-ts?" Guyunis asked Lhaklar.

"Right now, no. If what he says is true, his father gave me a general idea on what we have. I'm not scrapped for cash right now, so I'm in no hurry to part with my finds." Lhaklar replied.

"The next time you go to get them rocks of yours assessed, go to a jeweler. Just tell them what you want, they'll do it for free and they'll do it accurately. No show." Astor said.

Thanks, but I don't feel like parting with these yet." Lhaklar patted the front of his pants then dropped one of his eyes in a wink.

With the big thing of their day done and out of the way, they went to the i8 BMW that was parked nearby. Guyunis was thrown the key; he slid into the driver's seat slowly then started the car. Lhaklar and Astor got in after the car was started. The drive to their new hang-out spot was a long one; they spent most of the drive kidding around. Astor started a conversation on who they were going to do next; after they were done with talking about who all in their town they were going to do, they started joshing around about who's mama was fatter than the other—Lhaklar and Guyunis substituted 'beautiful' in place of fat when they spoke of comparing their mother to another's.

With the Illinger Altrhein being on the other side of the shield, and with their being too nervous to use the pond that was in Dumersheim's Kiesgrube am Hardtwald, the next available choice in a water source to use as a play area was the right tributary that came off the Alb river that ran down from Karlsruhe. Astor had made the suggestion that they go there for a play session that morning, after Lhaklar called to ask if his encounter with Master Vile eighteen days earlier had made him a "tenderfoot". There was a cooler beside the young man; it was pretty well stocked with food and drink—alcoholic beverages included. In all, it took them an hour to get to the area. They joked around for half of that hour, then they listened to some of the car's radio for the rest of the hour; when they reached the area, where their new water source aka Play Area was, they wasted no time in unpacking the car or in going down a barely there trail that Astor said he and some of his buddies sometimes used to get to the tributary.

"It's the Scheidgraben, righ-k-t?" Guyunis asked after they spent nearly five minutes going down the trail.

"Yeah," Astor replied.

"Anyone else there?" Guyunis asked.

"Think Seth and Jarvis are. I mentioned that I was taking two hitch-hikers to the spot after getting off the horn with Green Man." Astor replied.

"Any girlies?" the question just popped out; he had no way of stopping or in changing its wording. Lhaklar chuckled then spoke before Astor could answer his question.

"Man, when you gonna learn? If you're to hang around me, you need to learn to better watch your surroundings. Quit asking so many questions, go with the flow of things." Lhaklar almost sounded like a hippie; that made him and Astor laugh.

The location that they were headed towards was set-up much like the pond that they had once used as a group that was at Durmersheim's Kiesgrube am Hardtwald. There were a few rocks near the tributary; a very-branchy tree grew near one of them. A rope was tied to one of the overhanging branches sometime after Jarvis's, Seth's, Ada Bonnaire's, and Ivonne Angerer's arrival to the area. Unlike the last time, where they swam in the smaller of the two lakes, that were in the Durmersheim Kiesgrube am Hardtwald, in their underwear, Lhaklar and Guyunis noticed that the lack of clothes was the preferred choice for this water-done activity. Lhaklar and Guyunis automatically blushed when they saw the nakedness of the two girls that were in their group; if not for Astor's, Seth's and Jarvis's presence, they'd of turned around.

Astor surprised them. He didn't act in any way, shape, or form embarrassed or shamed by his sister's or by anyone else's nakedness. He placed the cooler, which he and Guyunis had carried between them while on the way to the tributary, down near one of the rocks that flanked the left-side bank of the river. He then stood tall; he de-clothed himself afterwards. His white t-shirt, his brown belt, his black ankle boots, that had detachable chains and buckles on their sides, and his socks, blue jeans, and underwear were swiftly removed and then casually thrown over his shoulder. He leaped into the water after he was undressed.

"Brock brock!" Seth Horowitz clucked at them. They were just standing idly by, doing nothing but staring in shock at what was going on in the river before them.

"Either they're afraid of seeing a little skin or they think there's not enough water here to accommodate all of us." Jarvis Adlersflügel said.

"Come along, Gentlemen." Ivonne Angerer teased. "I won't bite, promise."

"Don't believe that for a second, Boys." Ada Bonnaire said. "She's given Jarvis and then Seth an ass-nibbling three times in just fifteen minutes. Protect them butts and danglers of yours."

Up to her brother's arrival to the area, her and her four female companions' cheeks were red and plenty hot. Their father's would all frown greatly at them for using one of the few remaining tunnels that were bore under the shield on the last day of February and they'd probably all be in for a good whupping if their father's knew about their finding and then watching the antics of the naked humans that were wading in the river.

Like her brothers, she and her four companions were forced to stay inside the first week of the month. All of the tornadic activity had gotten under their parents' skin too; no one, not even a staff member, was allowed to go outside. It was sit and either read books, write in diaries, watch tv, or bug their female kin or their parents' female employees batty. Their brothers, most of whom were still in camp, had done the same thing. Their parents, like their brothers, were all still in camp. They were having one of them meetings where the kids weren't allowed to be apart of—the type that, while very important, were quite boring in nature. She and her four companions decided to go off to see if the tunnels that some of their parents made were still around; when two of the tunnels were discovered as intact, they used them to get on the inside of the shield that surrounded the town of Elchesheim Illingen. They were only a few miles from where Shaam fought the dark-skinned man at.

Natural emotions were felt after their coming upon the four humans that were swimming "all by their lonesome" in the river. Disgust was the first emotion to be felt by them; the idea of swimming in a river, that was probably teaming with all sorts of bacteria and parasites, had repulsed all of them. Curiosity had gripped them after they saw the humans moving around without a care in the world. Disgust had settled over them after they noticed that the humans were naked; that second-time felt emotion was felt for all of two seconds before another bout of curiosity settled over them. While they knew what a male thing was, and while they saw crude drawings of male reproductive parts, they hadn't once seen one in person.

The male human that had curly, brown hair had a decently sized thing that was nearly devoid of "fur". The male human that had long, dirty-blond hair had a particularly funny thing; short, but "furry". The danglers that hung under the shaft looked unnaturally long to all of them. The male that had just joined the group, the one that had reddish-blond hair, had a medium-long thing that had a cap of light brown "fur" at its base only; all of the male humans were burly, with good muscle on their top halves, and they looked rather young. Up to Lhaklar's arrival, they were wondering if the three were related; they hadn't paid much attention to the male humans' female companions. Their curiosity wasn't that grand in that area.

"Ah man!" FleebeVile Surfeit said after Lhaklar came into view. She turned towards Eshal after Lhaklar was seen. "You need to put your brothers on a leash!"

"Baby brothers always ruin the fun." Uevaa whined.

Despite what her father said, FleebeVile Estushia Surfeit did not look like a "perfect" combination of her parents. The girl resembled her father more than her mother; she had red and purple flecks of flesh on her cheeks, forehead, and neck and she had red, blood-like trails under her eyes. Her eyes were a light yellow color; the pupils, that were in their centers, were red. Her wavy hair was a light purple color. Unlike her, Uevaa, Kaasa, and Blaiga, FleebeVile, who went by plain Fleebe by her family and friends, was allowed to experiment with makeup and other feminine cosmetics; there was a heavy scent of vanilla and apricot coming from her, and her nails were a painted blue color. The only things that she inherited from her mother were her heart-shaped face and her honey-colored skin; everything else screamed her father. She was two thousand, six hundred, and sixteen years old; her birthday was just a day past her own.

"What's that purple thing he's wearing around his neck?" Uevaa asked. "Looks right shi—"

"There's someone else with him," Kaasa said. She then pointed at the barely there outline of the being that was standing behind Lhaklar.

"What's he doing?" Blaiga asked after Lhaklar dropped to a seated position on the ground.

It took them a few minutes to figure out what the boy was doing; Lhaklar removed his brown shoes and socks, he undid the light brown belt that was around his waist, then he started working on the multi-brown and cream striped, long sleeve, button down shirt that he was wearing. They knew what he was up to after the shirt was off. Lhaklar, Eshal's baby brother, was getting ready to join the humans in their naked antics in the river. Eshal hid her face; she didn't want to see her brother naked and, from what she could tell by the actions of her companions, they thought the same as she.

As it turned out, they didn't have to worry about that. Blaiga looked up at the last second. What she saw sent chills rolling down her spine. She screamed then pointed at Guyunis, who had just stepped out from the shadows that the trees were casting. Eshal reacted quickly after seeing the boy. She screamed her brother's name then teleported to the side of the river that her brother was on; the act of protecting her little brother was done to perfection a few seconds later. Lhaklar was instantly blindsided after having his sister step out in front of him; up to that moment, he had thought that he, his brother, and his friends were in a perfectly secluded area.

"What the hell!" Astor, who had just come up from a deep-river dive, exclaimed after seeing Eshal.

"What're you... alien magnets or something?" Jarvis yelled as he ran from the river to retrieve his clothes.

"Have fun with your girlfriend, man. Maybe we should reconsider our friendship." Seth said as he started dressing himself.

He was conscious of only himself for a few minutes. He grabbed and then threw the clothes that he had just taken off back on himself then he watched as most of his friends ran off, mumbling about how much of a ruined wreck that morning had become. He didn't know whether to feel sad or angry. His friends had run off; some had said something about friendship reconsideration, while others had just plain been annoyed over the fact that their plans for the morning were destroyed... destroyed because of a certain someone that he was related to.

Eshal, his older, half-sister, was standing before him. She had Guyunis "pinned" against one of the rocks that flanked their side of the river. Guyunis was hunched over; he looked confused, scared, and embarrassed at the same time. Guyunis's chest was still heavily wrapped in bandaging; Eshal was poking the bandaging. She was telling him in Moasian about how much of a disgrace he was and about how ashamed he should feel for "hurting them". Of his five friends, only two remained. Astor and Ada Bonnaire stood nearby; though dressed, they didn't look to be budging from where they stood. Even when Fleebe, Uevaa, Kaasa, and Blaiga showed up, they didn't budge.

While skinny dipping was an extreme sport, even by his standards, he wasn't one that steered clear of it. He liked the free-feeling that he got when he swam in a secluded water source with nothing on; it made him feel like he was on top of the world, with no troubles to worry about. Just swim and have fun with no restrictions added on to weigh him down. He was only reluctant to join in on that morning's planned and now fully interrupted and cancelled skinny dipping session because of Ada and Ivonne; it was usually he and the boys that did group skinny dipping sessions. He was surprised when he saw Ada and Ivonne involved in that morning's water-run activity.

"Ooooo, you best listen to her, Numbskull. She means business." Fleebe said after appearing on the side of the river that he, Guyunis, Astor and Ada, and Eshal were on.

"Her daddy would be much worse on your hide; you best to thanking your lucky stars that she's here and not he." Kaasa said.

"You best be glad my daddy and granddaddy aren't here," Uevaa said. She grabbed, and then yanked, a strand of Guyunis's hair. Guyunis yelled, then gave her a shove back.

"They would love to tear the rest of the skin on your body off." Kaasa said evilly. She imitated Uevaa's action in grabbing and then yanking a strand of Guyunis's hair. Guyunis repeated his prior action in yelling and then shoving her back.

"Maybe that's what he needs? Another good beat-on." Blaiga, who was staying clear of Guyunis, Eshal, Uevaa, and Kaasa, said.

Guyunis was defending himself in the best of gentlest of ways—by simply throwing or shoving the girls that pushed him or grabbed his hair. If the girls were boys, he was sure that a full-range fight would break out, where he and Guyunis would be going home with a few bumps, scrapes, cuts, and gashes on their bodies—he wouldn't of just stood by the sidelines if such a scenario was happening; he would of joined his brother in the fight. As it was, he was trying to get around his sister. He had tried twice now. In the last two minutes, he had tried to get around her. Eshal must of either eaten a lot of vegetables or had become Mighty Woman, because she managed to pick him up and then throw him right back to being behind her on them two times. He weighed a good hundred and ninety pounds; had gained twenty to what he already had on him. His sister couldn't weigh anywhere over a hundred and ten pounds. His sister was very petite yet, here she was, picking up and then throwing her one hundred and ninety pound little brother.

"Don't push me!" Fleebe exclaimed after Guyunis shoved her back for grabbing and then yanking two strands of his hair.

"You listen here and listen closely," Eshal said. She suddenly turned around. Lhaklar's cheeks turned a dark green color when she wrapped her arms around him then tugged him around to standing beside her. "This is my brother!" she tightened her hold on him; Lhaklar automatically started trying to get away from her. "My baby brother! You leave him alone, go get your own damn brother!"

"Eshal!" Lhaklar yelled, surprised.

"What?" Guyunis said, surprise and hurt were evident in his voice.

"Guy, don't listen to her!" Lhaklar exclaimed. He pried his sister's arms from around him, then pushed her back. "She doesn't know what she's talk—"

"I _do_ know what I'm talking about!" Eshal yelled. She grabbed her brother around the waist again. "And you do listen to me. I'm his older sister. Besides our parents, I know what's best for him. You being around him is not what's best for him. You're horrible!"

"Eshal!" Lhaklar shoved his sister from him, yet again, then, before she could come at him again, he jumped in front of Guyunis.

"Th... tha-k-t's your sister?" Guyunis asked.

"Unfortunately." Lhaklar replied.

"No!" Eshal shrieked after seeing her brother standing so close to the being that she was trying to give a good piece of her mind to. "Lhakie! Come away from him! Quick, before—"

"Think I've had and heard enough," Lhaklar said. He pushed Guyunis to get going then looked over at Astor and Ada. "Let's get out of here, guys. The atmosphere in this place stinks."

"Lhaklar!" Eshal said. She grabbed him by the arm that was still in a splint. Lhaklar hissed his pain, then turned to look at her.

"You pay that flat-footed bastard of a father of mine a visit for me." he said. He then raised his broken arm. "Tell him thanks for the broken arm."

She and her four companions leaped at her brother at the same time that the two remaining humans ran past to join "Numbskull", who was well on his way down a barely there trail. They had just grabbed her brother when something happened that none of them had expected to happen; Lhaklar disappeared from their grasp. He appeared on a rock nearby then, not a second later, he appeared at the start of the barely there trail before disappearing again. If she wasn't seeing things, her brother was using Time Warp—an ability that one in their race could use to appear in more than one location in rapid succession. It was an ability that was taught to one who went to the University of Gray; Lhaklar hadn't gone to the school, so he shouldn't be able to do the move.

She was so transfixed by her brother doing this ability that she forgot all about her finding where he went. By the time she snapped out of her trance, her brother and his group were well on their way out of the area. Lhaklar took to the wheel of his and his brothers' i8 BMW; Astor and Ada got into the back passenger seats while Guyunis slid in beside him. After punching the gas pedal down after starting the car, he made tracks. Eshal and her company heard rubber squealing a few seconds later.


	53. Chapter 53

In regards to the other abilities that a fully trained Zetakin can do, Time Warp was a fairly new ability on the market for learnability.

It was discovered on a rather boring, but sunshiny day by four young men who were doing nothing more than goofing around. Teleporting from one area to the next, driving the adults and the law crazy. One of the men decided to try to appear in three places at once; a feat that no one at the time had done. Instead of doing as he had tried to do, he fizzled out, then appeared in one of his thought-of places, then, in a tiny fraction of a second, appeared in the next then in the next and so on. It took him all of five minutes to stop appearing in places; when he did, he was nearly, completely insane with fright and exhaustion.

It took between four hundred and a thousand years before the full potential of what the young man had discovered to be noticed; the University of Gray was founded sometime after that potential was noticed. The young man behind the ability's discovery became one of the professors at the school soon after its opening. The University of Gray mainly touched on the training of the more advanced abilities of the Zetakin race; he was taught all of them when he went to the school as a youngster.

Since what the young man discovered wasn't teleportation it wasn't linked as a sub-ability of that ability. Since time could be altered or "warped" with this ability, it was named Time Warp, in regards to what one could do to the time with it. A Zetakin can stop, alter, or slow time by using this power; it wasn't just an ability to appear in one place then in another in a tiny fraction of a second. Like the Chronicle of the Surfeit book claimed, he was an expert in using this power; if he wanted to, he could use the power to mess around with his kins' or his staff's heads... he could also use the power to alter time in battle—to tip the scales in his or his army's favor. One had to be specifically trained in this ability; if used incorrectly, or if used by one who wasn't properly trained, one could get "stuck". Like with the young man who was behind the ability's discovery, one who was improperly, not trained, or that was using the ability incorrectly could be forced to go from one thought-of location after the other for a span of a few minutes to a few hours before the ability "shorted out".

The memory that Eshal gave him permission to take from her memory banks showed a most alarming thing: his young son hadn't only done Time Warp but he also disappeared after appearing in his third thought-of location. He was most terrified that his son became "stuck" in going between the three thought-of locations; right after seeing that memory, he went to the location where his son was seen at. He looked all over the place for his son. He was desperately clinging to the hope that his son just appeared somewhere else then walked off, unfazed by his use of an ability that he shouldn't be using in the first place. The fact of Eshal being inside the shield was addressed sometime after his return from looking for his son; he wasn't a happy man over her going to the shield's interior. He didn't give her permission to do so. His only daughter could well of been hurt while being inside of the shield.

"I've got enough to worry about, Eshal." she was seated on his ship's living room couch; he was pacing the room that they were in. "If you haven't noticed, your brothers are still out there. I've yet to find and then bring them back to camp. I've also got your mother to worry about; her location is still unknown, and she has yet to be seen walking freely among the humans. You've got a good head on your shoulders, why the hell did you think that going into the shield was an okay thing to do?"

"W-we were curious?" his daughter replied.

"We? Do I have more than one Eshal as a daughter?" he asked. When she said nothing in return, he walked towards her. He leaned over her; his wise, old eyes looked into her tender, young ones. "Was you chained and then dragged along? Was you forced to go to the shield's interior or did you go on your own accord?"

"I was curious." his daughter said. She practically shrank on the couch.

"Being curious and being dangerous are two different things," he said. He stood, then resumed his pacing of the room. "What were you so "curious" about? What is there on the inside of the shield that holds such curiosity in you?"

"Idunno," she mumbled.

"Pardon, don't think I got that."

"I don't know."

"You don't know." he snorted. "Think you best get real comfortable in this ship because you're not leaving it for two weeks. You're grounded."

"Yes daddy," she said. She shifted her weight on the couch before looking at him. "D-don't you want to know what I saw, daddy?" when her father said nothing in return, she went on. She said what she wanted to say quickly. Just in case her father turned on her. Got really mad at her for speaking of what she saw while being inside the shield. "Lhaklar was with five humans—three male, two female. The humans were all skinny dipping; Lhaklar was about to join them. He was in the process of taking his clothes off when... when the guy that Grampy fought in late-February showed up."

Her father, a man that she loved oh so much, said nothing. He stopped pacing. He just stood in place, listening to her talk. Despite his still form, she could tell that he was growing angrier with her. Since she knew it had to be gotten out, she went on. She told herself to expect more time added to the punishment that she was just given as she relayed the rest of what happened in the shield's interior.

"When I saw him, I screamed then... teleported to the side of the river that they were on. Me, Kaasa, Uevaa, Fleebe, and Blaiga confronted the g—"

"Just you keep talking now," her father said. His voice was heavy with anger. "Make that hole you've dug for yourself deeper."

"Lhaklar told me to tell you something," her father's head turned slowly towards her; the look of wanting settled over his face in an instant. "H-he said for me to tell you thanks for his broken arm."

He told her to get out of the room, which she did. Hurriedly. She knew what was expected of her now—sit and be bored for two weeks. He placed his hand on the mantle of the room's stone fireplace after she left; the mantle was cool to the touch, and covered with holly and spell-made ferns. The chain-mail that hung from the metal rod barred any curious youngster from playing with the fire that raged within the unit. This very fireplace was used so many times in the last six months; its last use was a few days ago, when the cold drizzle fell. Hearing his daughter relay his son's words to him hurt; he hadn't meant to break his arm on that day in late-December. If he knew that Lhaklar was that Eagle, he wouldn't of touched him.

At the moment, the steel wood holder, that was in the fireplace, was unlit. It had five, new logs on it. If another spell of chilly weather was experienced in the coming few days, the logs would be lit. The fireplace did give a more peaceful tone to his ship; it gave him a sense of comfort after all that befell him in the last year.

There were two couches in the room. His daughter was seated on the red one; the fainting couch that sat across from the coffin-shaped, dark gray couch. A glass coffee table, that stood on black accent legs, that were quite sturdy, was between the two couches. Over near the right-side wall stood a red chair and ottoman; above the chair was a taxidermied head of a large species of bat that he hunted and killed on Moas some thousands of years ago. There was a Gothic floor lantern in each of the room's four corners. Two more were placed on either side of the fainting couch. A large, yellow-domed light was in the center of the room's ceiling; it and the floor lanterns lit the room a bright golden color. There were photographs of him and his children on the walls; a photograph of him and his wife was above the fireplace. He was holding her close to him; she looked happy in his arms. Off on the right side of the room were two photographs of him and his older half-brother, Kuruk.

As of the last six months, the all-gold telephone, that was on the coffee table, was used as a simple room ornament. The semi-precious gems, that covered the phone's exterior, glowed rather brilliantly. A stack of books, and a small pile of magazines, sat to the right of the phone; a big, brown-wood box, that had all sorts of chocolate in it, was to the left of the phone. None of the goodies that were in the box were consumed in the six months that they were on the planet. The chocolates were strictly for after dinner; not once had anyone gone to take one of the chocolates from the box since their arrival to the planet.

 _"Me, Kaasa, Uevaa, Fleebe, and Blaiga confronted the g—"_

Even though she wasn't allowed to finish that sentence, he had automatically deduced that she was talking about the man that his grandfather tangled with on the twenty-eighth of February. She, all of them, could of been very badly injured! If that man was prone to going as far as injuring his sons, who knew the damage he could inflict on a young, helpless girl. Eshal could of been raped! She could of been beaten then she could of been raped. Her pureness could of been taken from her. She could of been scarred for life... she could of been killed!

He shivered at this thought. Eshal meant as much to him as his wife and sons did; if anything was to happen to her, he didn't think he could go on living. His daughter being beaten, and then raped, could of happened... it could of happened to all of the girls that were with her earlier. The sound of yelling could be heard from down the hall; it looked like his stepfather was giving the same talk to his own young daughter. He wouldn't blame the man if he grounded her for two weeks; they were probably all looking at some grounding time.

"He's still around," he thought as he went to take a seat on the dark gray, coffin-shaped couch. "My grandfather gave him a good round of punishing... looks like he's still at his game. Still following my sons around... probably still causing them grief."

He shook his head. It had to come to an end. Sometime, somehow, it had to come to an end.

They suspected the man as being the culprit behind Vile's, and Vile's four staff members, being sent to the hospital; the meeting that he and the other adults had earlier had mostly been centered on Vile's condition and on their suspicions that he and "Numbskull" had an encounter sometime before the start of the month. Two of the four men that were with his nephew had come very close to dying after being admitted to Bolshaviks; they were still hanging in there...barely. Thanks to Kuruk keeping a close ear on the situation, they knew that Vile was experiencing the same symptoms that Trobrencus experienced in January and they also knew that radiation poisoning was the cause for his nephew and the four men to be admitted to the hospital. Vile was probably going to be walking out of the hospital twenty to thirty pounds lighter. No further outside word on how his nephew was doing would happen; Vile had ordered that all press release information on his condition cease at once after his third surgery was completed. Only Kuruk was allowed in on the know on his condition.

Everything on how his nephew had come to be admitted to the hospital was too coincidental to ignore. Vile had entered Bolshaviks in the very same manner that Trobrencus had entered the hospital that he went to. They only had their suspicions to go by. Vile wasn't talking on how he came down with his poisoning. That went double for the four men that were also admitted to the hospital.

"While their desire in being involved in the next sighting of "Numbskull" was satiated, Rubacon and Tula went right back to fighting after we returned to camp." he nearly said aloud.

Tula was now more than ever sure that her husband was the father of the man that was causing his sons so much grief for the past year; their fighting had escalated to an all-time new level right after their return to camp. With the increase in fighting, he made the decision to completely separate the two. Tula was with his grandfather; Rubacon was still rooming in his ship. His brother's oldest daughter, Dara Dara, had taken Tula's place rather quickly. Apparently, his brother was getting on her rather hard for her actions in non-marital sex. The woman wasn't in the best of moods when she asked him if she could take the room that Tula had just vacated. Her voice was heavy with emotion; he had only needed to hear her voice to know that something had gotten under her skin. He let her have the room on two occasions: she keep any and all confrontations to a minimum and she obey the rules that he set down in his ship. She agreed then she moved in.

That was two weeks ago. His niece was going by his set rules, and she wasn't creating any fights. She seemed rather happy to be away from her father's overbearing morals—while he _did_ agree on one being married before engaging another in sex he did know that, sometimes, one couldn't help themselves; when an urge was felt, it was either go by it or try your damnedest to not be driven batty by it while trying to keep from engaging it. Dara Dara would probably be very interested in being told that her father was no saint in keeping his unit in his pants during his bachelor days. He lost his virginity a long time before meeting his first known, long-term gal. Agola Regoliola might not of been his ideal match—far from it, actually—, but he remained faithful to her. He was doing the same with Irka.

Shit, even he was no saint in that area. He wasn't a virgin when he married his first wife, Bespe Rakaduc. Before he even left Gamma Vile for Moas, he engaged in sex; being a young bachelor, living on his own, he felt the urge to mate and he engaged it... after applying the proper protection, of course. There were no other children by him in the Universe. He had just four biological children to his name: EshalVile Eskara Surfeit, LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, and LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit. Bile Vile made his count in offspring go up; he helped in the raising of that boy since his birth up to his disappearance at six hundred years of age. He regarded that boy as his own. Bile Vile was his adopted son; he loved him just as much as he did his biological children.

He removed his goggled glasses then leaned back on the couch. So much had happened in six months time; he wasn't sure if he could take anymore grief or chaos in his camp. He had just placed his hand over his eyes when his stepfather walked into the room. He was in the process of sitting on the fainting couch when Dara Dara walked in. His niece looked around before claiming the available seat that was beside his stepfather. Nothing was said between the three of them for a while. He rubbed his eyes, then sighed; conversation between the three of them started after that sigh was emitted.

"Hear you loud and clear—good morning turned sour in a heartbeat." Cheshire said after he sighed.

"Yep," he said back. "Wasn't expecting for her to go and do something so foolish as go into the shield then pick fights with men that have already been noted as being malicious."

"Before I sent her to her chamber, Blaiga showed me some of what happened. That guy seems to be acting a little less confident. The girls were all over him. He did nothing more than shove them, no fights or over-violence done." Cheshire said.

"Doesn't mean a thing," he said back. "He could still be coping with the injuries that my grandfather put on him. He might not be as strong as he use to be."

"With all of what Grampy did to him, he shouldn't be out and about in the first place." Dara Dara said. "He really tore the guy up; he should be holed up somewhere, either trying to recover or—"

"He did have a wrap of heavy bandaging around his upper torso." Cheshire noted.

"Mmmn," he grunted.

"Lhaklar looked in good shape. Had something around his neck... a purple rock of some sort."

"He still has that gash on the side of his head. It hasn't healed like it should have." his voice was heavy with his concerned over that issue. Injuries to the head were serious; his son had a serious injury to the right side of his head that had yet to heal.

"Was he able to move around like normal? Any signs of damage to the brain or..." Dara Dara trailed off.

"Seemed to be moving around with little to no trouble. Other than his left arm being broken, and the gash that's on the right side of his head, he looks in good shape." he replied.

"Eshal—"

"Grounded. Two weeks." he said before his stepfather could finish his sentence.

"Don't blame you. Blaiga got the same amount of time." Cheshire said.

Even though her voice type was nice, and she was cordial in asking about Lhaklar's well-being, they both knew how she stood on his offspring with Angel. Dara Dara was much like Vile; she, like Triskull, was very close to the man, and she agreed with him on quite a lot of things... two being that his offspring with his wife were weak and that Angel had "chosen" wrong in taking him on as her Universal partner.

Dara Dara was a right lovely woman. How no man had claimed her as his, or had slipped a ring around her finger, was beyond him. The ring of bright blue crystals, that surrounded her face, had a good shine to it; the features of her light blue face were made even more evident by that crystal-ring. She had the lightest of blue hair, which was wavy and just as long as could be. Her fingernails were long and dark blue in color; she had recently filed them, so they didn't curl as much as they use to. She was ninety-seven thousand, eight hundred, and fifty years old; while she hadn't done much in her life, her bright blue eyes did show that age clearly. The long flowing dress, that she was wearing, had blue, purple, and black synthetic crystals on it. The blue heels, that were on her feet, matched the dress almost perfectly. The blue diamond ring, that was on her left pinky-finger, was just as real as the crystals that ringed her face. She stood a petite, five foot, two inches.

Like with Triskull, she had never married. She was single and childless; it seemed that both of his older, half-brother's second and thirdborn offspring were trying their best to steer clear of settling down.

"So, what're you going to do now?" Dara Dara asked.

"What I'm suppose to do," he said. He stood from the couch then started to leave the room. "Go to where them tunnels we bore under the shield are. Close any that are still open then come back."

"The Fine Collector's been calling your number a lot lately," Dara Dara said.

"They can continue calling. I was in my right in not letting that man entrance to the shield's interior. If that brother of yours wants inside the shield, he's got to do it himself." he said.

The fine that he and his family were given was also discussed at the meeting that happened earlier that morning. A $4,500 fine was dropped in his interstellar mail bundle last month; he had no intention of paying it. His family, some of whom had received the same fine as he, while others had received a more substantial fine, were doing the same. If anything happened about this "fine" bullshit, he'd call the courts. They had a right in being on the planet; Vile had no right in interfering with their search and he had no right in issuing out "insult" fines. Most of the members of his family had admitted to ripping and then burning the fines that they were given. He didn't know what his staff did with their fine papers; some might of burned theirs, while others might of trashed theirs, while others might of gone on and paid theirs.

He left his ship to do what he said he was going to do; of the eight tunnels that were bore under the shield that was over the town of Elchesheim Illingen, he found just three open. The others had long since caved in. He used his Elemental Ground powers to fill the three open tunnels, then he made sure that the other tunnels were securely closed off before going back to his camp. He was just going into his ship when his wife returned home from her planned excursion on Tactai7; Angel placed what she was able to find on the library-moon in her room then went off to begin her double-shift at work.

"Pppphhh-oooohne!" Bile and Lazeer screamed at the same time. There was the sound of someone running down the upstairs hallway, then the sound of a fight started being heard at the head of the stairs; Hazaar shook his head at all the ruckus that was going on upstairs. When he answered the phone, he tried his best to sound pleasant—and not moody.

"Hello?" he said after answering the phone. "Who's this?"

"Someone who's not too happy with you being up at this hour of the night." his mother's voice, which seemed to be packed with razor-sharp ice-picks, said from the other end of the phone.

"Hi momma!" his tough-sounding voice resounded from the living room quite clearly; his two brothers automatically stopped fighting upstairs. "Calling to let us know that you're on your way home, or that you and your "friend" aren't done yet?"

"Think that joke's outlived itself for day, Hazie." his mother said. He took note of how tired she sounded. "I did call to give the word that I'm on my way home. Who's up? How's everyone?"

Good questions; as far as he knew, it was just him, Bile, and Lazeer that were still up. Since Lhaklar and Guyunis had locked themselves up in their rooms, he didn't know if they were still up or not. He came home to find the dining room a no-man's land; Lazeer had decided to do a little "Spring Cleaning" in his room after returning home. Blocks of dirt substrate, boxes of reptile food, artificial plants, empty boxes, and non-clear tupperware containers had littered the dining room table for nearly two hours before his brother came down to retrieve them. The fold-out table, that was once in Lazeer's bedroom, was no longer in his room; a brown oak bedside table now sat in its place.

Lazeer had taken his model planes and flying dinosaur skeletons down from his ceiling after fixing his Glass frogs' area up; the dining room was only cleaned of all the junk that was in it after Bile came home. Their brother had only just finished putting his model planes and flying dinosaurs back on his ceiling when Bile called him down to clean the dining room up. All of what was on the taller of the two bookcases that were in Lazeer's room was taken down, dusted, then put back in their former places.

Lazeer's room looked much better now. It didn't look like a disaster area anymore. He and Bile had either listened to music or watched tv while their crazy baby brother did his bedroom re-arranging; not a peep from Lhaklar or Guyunis was heard all during that crazy period. Neither he nor Bile or Lazeer knew what was going on with them two; Lazeer claimed that they came in looking rather blue at around twelve-noon. They were locked in their rooms for nearly twelve hours now. No food or drink was brought up to them, and no one had the guts to go up to see what was wrong with them.

"Think it's just me, Bile, and Lazeer, momma." he said. "Not sure about Lhaklar or Guyunis. Bile and Lazeer were fussing upstairs a few seconds ago; think they were excited over the phone ringing. Except for Mr. Leinart and Mr. Ballal, no one's called in hours."

"Mr. Leinart did say that he called the house earlier," his mother said. He automatically knew that the man had called her cellular after phoning the house. "He said that Bile sounded a bit distracted."

"Probably because he was. Lazeer's gone crazy, momma! He decided to Spring Clean his room; there's a new table in there for his Glass frogs. Everything else was taken down, then dusted, then put back up."

"Sounds like something you and your other brothers should do," his mother chuckled. "Take from example—look after your stuff, it'll last a lot longer if you do."

"Yuck! I shall only clean my room after being told to by you." he smirked after saying that. While he tried to keep things boy-neat in his room, he couldn't help but not deny the fact that he tried his best in staying clear of doing any heavy-duty cleaning; it was his age showing and he knew it.

"I'll make sure to give you a hand-written note tomorrow that says 'Clean your room, Love Mom' then." his mother said. He laughed then went quiet. "I'll be home in a few minutes, make sure that you, Bile, and Lazeer are in bed."

He said okay then hung up; what his mother told him to do was only half-done. While he and his two siblings had dressed for bed, they were still up and about when she pulled in the drive. Bile, who was still downstairs, cursed when he heard her keys being jingled. He shot up to the second floor then dove into bed. He and Lazeer were in the kitchen, so they weren't as lucky; when their mother came in, they froze. A homemade, Bile-style, six-cheese lasagna was made for supper that night; he and Lazeer had consumed two platefuls before deciding to go on to dessert—a chocolate mousse cake, that tasted oh so fine and delicious... he and his two brothers had eaten two slices before deciding to leave the rest to their two AWOL brothers and their mother.

There were a few German Butter cookies still in the container. Their mother had brought two things home yesterday; all but a dozen were gone. He and his brother had two each in their hands when their mother walked into the kitchen; their paralysis broke right after she was seen.

"You two," she said. Instant smiles spread across their faces. "put the cookies back then get upstairs. Bed, now."

Other than stopping to give her a hug, they did as they were told. She yelled up at her other children—Bile, who was still trying to pretend to be in bed and asleep; Lhaklar, who's whereabouts and activities were unknown; and Guyunis, who's whereabouts and activities were also unknown—that she was home and to go to bed then she went towards the fridge. There was a big container of lasagna on the top shelf; she took it down then helped herself to a decent-sized helping that'd keep her over for the rest of the night. She was glad for her day to finally be over with; the time spent on Tactai7 was nice and nearly trouble-free. Zorax was a proper professional for most of their time spent in pooling over the books that he dragged out from the oldest section of the library; about two hours in on their search, one of his hands _had_ found its way to her inner leg. It was slapped away twice before "getting the point".

Copies of the books that she found at the library were sent for. Zorax had seen to wrapping them himself. Her exit of the library was quick, but polite; the rest of her day was spent at her workplace—filling orders in the deli, working two cash registers, mopping floors, checking inventory, and restocking store shelves. Her feet were killing her, and she hadn't once stopped to indulge in a bite to eat. The only reason why she had stopped working? To answer her cellular; Mr. Leinart had jowled her ear for nearly thirty minutes. She went on and dropped out of the event that he mentioned a few weeks earlier. The one where everyone donned their swimsuits then either swam in a pool or remained poolside on a chair or a towel. He said that he understood then, after a few seconds of silence, he told her that Bile had seemed a bit distant towards him when he called the house.

In comparison to how long their political conversation was, their chat on how things were going at their respective places was brief. Their conversation ended after the man's secretary came in; she went back to work after hanging up the phone.

While on the way home, she was surprised to find out about Mr. Ballal phoning the house. She hadn't heard from the man in quite a while; he, Gretel, and their two young children had since moved in with their grown daughter, Nisa, and her husband, Wolfgang Ketterle, and their three little ones. No "Trolls" had come around to bug the family since the move. The Ballal's were relieved to finally be able to resume a halfway normal life again; Mr. Ballal was looking to buy them a new house that was a distance from their old one. While he and his wife had plans to keep their old residence, they didn't have any plans in returning to living in it. Sadly, the Goblins had ruined the safe feeling that their old home had.

"Should I or shouldn't I? The great debate starts now, before this woman heads up for a few hours of sleep." she thought after noticing the chocolate mousse cake that was in the microwave. While she had an interest in the cake, she decided to forgo it for three of the cookies that Hazaar and Lazeer were about to consume. She took three cookies from the container, that was on top of the microwave, then went up to her room. She ate the cookies, then donned her red/pink, tie-dye nightgown, then slipped into bed. Sleep came almost at once; dreams of her day, of her conversation with Mr. Leinart, of her finding the material that brought an answer to Guyunis's issue, and of her diving into a chocolate-filled pool, filled her sleep. When Bile's alarm went off at eight, she groaned.

Sleep, so easy to come by, yet so very easy to lose.

She got up after Bile's alarm clock was shut off. She got dressed for the new day then left her room; the music, that was coming from Lhaklar's room, was barely able to be heard. She stopped when she heard the musical notes of Ray Charles then decided to go see what was going on in her secondborn's bedroom. At first twist of the knob, she knew that something was wrong. The door was locked.

"Lhakie?" she said. She gave the door a slight rapping before stepping back.

Normal thoughts and mental images happened. She thought about the house; Mr. Leinart, a man that they had only just met back at that time in their lives, was too nice towards them in not only buying it for them but by also paying for its utilities and for the furnishing that was in it. She thought about her car; Mr. Leinart had, yet again, shown how good of a man he was by buying it for her after the house was purchased, the utilities were paid for, and then most of the furnishing shopping was done. She thought about Mr. Leinart; he was such a nice, generous man. She and her family were lucky to have him as a friend; not many were as friendly, generous, or nice as he was. She thought about Mr. Ballal; he was another friend that she and her family were lucky to have. Like Mr. Leinart, Mr. Ballal was a one in a million type of man who was just as friendly and kind as could be. She thought about her sons; they had survived a year of difficulties. There were no quitters in her family. Everyone was as strong and healthy as could be. She thought about the pets last; Guyunis's kitten may still be small, but she was still as sweet as could be, Hazaar's turtles were growing and healthy, and so were Lazeer's frogs, newts, and salamanders.

Everything was as it should be in her house and in her and her family's lives... everything but this door that barred her from checking on her secondborn son.

"Lhaklar?" she rapped on the door. A little harder this time, just in case he fell asleep with the music on. He was of that age where he forgot things, after all.

Panic-stricken thoughts and mental images happened after she rapped on the door again. Her concern over the people in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve causing her family to be stressed was thought of. Her concern over her sons not being accepted in their current country was thought of. The mental image of what she saw in the upstairs bathroom, on the night of October the thirty-first, was seen—the clothes, strewn all about the bathroom floor; Bile's fingerless gloves turned inside out, then thrown behind the toilet; the pair of blood-soaked boxer shorts, that were thrown against the wall; the bloody finger and hand-prints that were left on the sink basin and on the side of the tub; the stained tub; and the greenish-red water that Bile was sitting in... she shivered at this image. She never wanted to see one of her children so frightened, or so badly injured, again!

The thought of all of her children's injuries—the swollen knee that Bile had in late-October; the gash that was on the right side of Lhaklar's head; Lhaklar's broken left arm; the gash that Bile had on his upper torso region; the bruised knee-bone and chipped hip that Hazaar sustained in late-September, the latter of which was still causing him to limp; Lazeer's facial gash; the burn marks that Guyunis received in late-October; the many fight-inflicted injuries that Guyunis sustained during his fights with Duru, Trobrencus, and then his father; and Guyunis's whip-caused lacerations... her boys were sure a strong bunch. They went through so much in a year's time; most people wouldn't of continued going on after experiencing what they had.

Bile, Guyunis, and then Lazeer coming down with the flu after their encounter with Baruk, Gaajah, and Selik was also thought of. So were the other illnesses that Guyunis had experienced after using his as-yet named and explained power.

"He's okay," she told herself after giving the door to her secondborn's bedroom a good pounding. "Just slow in getting up, is all. He fell asleep with his music on, there's nothing abnormal about doing that. Quit thinking bad thoughts; he's home! Give him a minute to get dressed, or to do whatever he's doing, before coming to any conclusions."

"What's going on?" Hazaar, who had just come from his room, asked.

"Lhaklar's still in his room?" Bile, who was just now leaving the upstairs bathroom, asked.

"What's with all the pounding?" Lazeer, who looked to be a bit run down that morning, asked.

She had just noticed that there were no lights on in Guyunis's room, and that even his bedroom door was shut, when the lock, that was on the door that she was rapping and pounding on, turned. The door opened; she sighed when she saw her secondborn son's backside. Lhaklar had opened the door then turned to go back to his bed, which was still unmade. She told Bile, Hazaar, and Lazeer to go downstairs before going into the room; Lhaklar had since turned his stereo off. He was now back in bed; he was looking up at the ceiling with, what she called, a most dispirited look on his face. She closed the door behind her after entering the room then went to him.

"Why so glum, son?" she asked after sitting down beside him.

"I'll be staying in here for a little while, if that's okay with you." even his voice sounded dispirited; that gave her more incentive to be worried about him.

"What's wrong, Lhakie?" she asked.

"A lot,"

"A lot's not telling me much." she said. "You get into a fight with someone or something?"

"Yes and no," he replied.

"That's not a real answer to my question, Lhakie."

"In a way, I did, and in another, I didn't." her son said. He then rolled over to his side. She was in the process of placing her hand on his shoulder when he sat up. "I think I lost all but one of my friends yesterday, mom."

"Had a spat with them over something?" she asked. "If whatever happened between you and your friends was little, or was nothing, you don't need to worry any. Give them a few days, they'll come back and you'll all have a laugh over whatever you had a to-do on."

"They were swimming in one of the river's that's near here... that's under the shield. I was getting ready to join them when... when my sister showed up."

"Eshal? Inside the shield or outside of it?"

The old saying said that, when you told any type of story on what happened on any given day, it was best to start at the beginning. The story-teller wanted to be believed; he or she didn't want the message of what they were getting out to be murky, and they didn't want anyone to grow confused over what all was being told either. He began the tale on what happened yesterday with his and Guyunis's exit of the local pawnshop. The box of gemstones was on his dresser; it remained on his dresser all night. Not once had he gotten up from bed to put it away. While he did trim the details on his and his friends skinny dipping a little, he didn't venture far from the truth on what happened at the river. He kept the details of what Eshal did and on what Seth and Jarvis said as-was.

The trip home was of equal disaster; Ada Bonnaire, his buddy Astor's sister, had said that she'd rather not speak to him or see him for a while. While Astor tried to calm her down, and get her to change her decision, she remained firm on doing just that. Guyunis had asked a few questions about Eshal while on the way home; he was honest in telling his mother about his yelling at his brother... he yelled at him to shut up—twice—while on the drive home. After having most of his friends walk out on him, and after having his sister embarrass him, he didn't need to be bombarded with questions. He didn't know if it was fate working against him, or just plain bad luck, but, about a mile from home, a flat was encountered. He had just dropped Astor and his sister off when the tire went. He took his slow time in fixing it.

Once home, he went up to his room to mope and stew over the events of that morning. The door to his room was locked, his window was thrown open, then his stereo was played. The model of the "weathered", 1956 Chevy Nomad—one of the two models that he received in the mail on the twenty-eighth of February—had long since been done; the 1955 Buick Roadmaster had, for the most part, collected dust on his desk since that time. His model paint and glue supply was depleted now; the Roadmaster was done and ready for display. The Jackson 5, Michael Jackson, Janet Jackson, Frank Sinatra, Pat Boone, Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, and Ray Charles were at his ear the entire time that he was working on the model.

It was around three in the morning when he decided to don his PJ's then go to bed; sleep hadn't come to him. He mostly stared at the wall, or at the ceiling. He hadn't once gone down to get something to eat or drink, and he hadn't once thought about calling his friends to see if he could "talk some sense into them". If he lost Seth Horowitz and Jarvis Adlersflügel as friends, he'd accept it... it might take him a while to get over the lost friendships, but he'd accept it then go on with his life. Like his mother was saying now, there were many others out there that he could befriend.

"Doesn't sound like you or Guyunis were in the wrong," his mother said after he relayed all of what happened the day before. "Just at the wrong place at the wrong time; Eshal's more in the wrong than you two are."

"Tell that to Seth, Jarvis, and Ada." he said back.

"Don't think I have to. Think they'll realize that on their own." she said.

"Suuuuuuure," he drawled out. She responded by poking him in the ribs. His ribs had always been his sensitive spot; the giggles that came out of him were loud and shrill... child-like in origin. "Stop it! I'm suppose to be sad, giggling isn't being sad!"

"My offspring are not allowed to be sad in this house." his mother said back.

She poked his ribs five more times, then told him to go downstairs; a slice of the chocolate mousse cake had his name on it, he could have as big a slice as he wanted. He said thanks, then started getting dressed for the day; she went down the hall to Guyunis's room after seeing that he was serious about going downstairs. While the door to Guyunis's room was still closed, she found that it wasn't locked; she sighed when the door opened, then she grabbed her ears. Guyunis was awake. He was dressed for the day—the chains, that he was wearing around his neck, shoulders, and chest, were new; where he came by them was beyond her. He was chain-less for weeks now.

Her adopted son was seated on the floor. His back was against his bed. Sabine was jumping all over the place; the cat wand, that had three, bright pink feathers on one of its ends, was being swung from one side of the room to the other. The cat looked to be having a blast in chasing it. Like with Lhaklar, Guyunis had his stereo on. A band called Mudvayne was blasting some tune about dreams and someone or something falling; the walls in her son's room were bouncing, the music was so loud... she was surprised that nothing had fallen, or gotten damaged in the room. She ran to the stereo at the same time that Guyunis stood. The stereo was silenced in one twist of the knob.

"Someone's listenin' to some fine tunes up there!" Bile yelled up.

"Fine tunes my ass," Angel mumbled. It felt like her ears were bleeding. She shook her head, then turned to look at Guyunis, who had taken one step towards her before stopping. "Room silencer spell or not, you keep this down!" she pointed at the stereo, which Guyunis promptly shut off with the remote.

"Sorry," he said.

"Sorry don't save your ears, G." she said. Sabine meowed, then rubbed up against one of her legs. "Or Sabine's, for that matter."

She left the room when her ears started to ring; Guyunis was at her elbow the entire time. He apologized for the loud music, then he asked if she was mad at him for anything. She didn't reply. She just left the room. He was left standing by his bedroom door for only twenty seconds; when she returned, his face went from looking glum to bright. Before going into his room, she called for one of her children downstairs to make breakfast; Bile replied, saying that he was already at it. With that matter squared away, she led her son into the room then had him sit on his bed. The first of the three bundled books was unwrapped and then handed to him; he looked at it for a long time before handing it back. She unwrapped the other two books then handed them over; he did the same with them.

"WexVile Rulvot Surfeit?" he read the title of the third book aloud. "Who's he, mum?"

"Someone in your tree." she replied.

"Huh?"

"Your great-great grandfather," she said. "The man who owns the key to your power troubles."

"Oh... think I saw a chap-k-ter on him in the Surfeit book last night. I read some of the Chronicle book af-k-ter getting home—didn't feel well, you know. With Lhaklar yelling-k at me, and them girlies pushing me, and pulling-k my hair, just didn't feel like min-k-gling with the family." Guyunis said. She nodded her head.

"Lhaklar told me all about it, he had just as bad a day as you did yesterday." she said as she sat beside him. "Don't go blaming yourself, or feeling blue over what happened yesterday. You and your brother are innocent. You two didn't know that they were in the shield."

"Had to..." Guyunis grabbed his hair, which she noticed was two inches shorter than it use to be. "cut the sin-k-ged parts of my hair after getting home. Them girlies—"

"It'll be back before you know it," she said. She understood what he was saying. Regardless of the shampoo treatments, the singed parts of his hair hadn't gone back to looking healthy. Now that most of the singed parts of his hair were gone, his hair could recover quicker.

"Wha-k-t's Electromagnetic power?" Guyunis asked. The book on the power that he had just asked about was slowly taken from her.

"The power that you're most worried about." she replied. He looked at her sharply before opening the book.

The chapter that was written on WexVile Rulvot Surfeit was extremely, severely, undercut. The facts were all wrong, the dates were incorrect, and it mentioned him marrying five women—one being his mother, while another being one of his sisters—when, in reality, he had only married three times. An attempt was made after Shaam's return from Limbo to correct the chapter written on the man; it made an already badly done chapter worse. The book that Zorax had found for her on the man was correctly written; it was written before the man's passing, and it mentioned that the man had put "a good many hours in on standing over the author's shoulder".

WexVile Rulvot Surfeit was the firstborn son of LynkVile Brawsck Surfeit and Wilabolia Shaolo. The Wex—fine title for a documentary; she wasn't surprised that it was forgotten—had mentioned that Wilabolia was forced into marrying her first, and only, husband. Her parents, denizens of a small planet called Kloum, were on the low side of the totem pole; they were looking to bring their family up some so they offered their three daughters to their new ruler—LynkVile Surfeit—as potential brides. Wilabolia, a woman just barely into her adult years, was picked as Lynk's wife, while her two sisters, who were in their mid to upper-teenage years, were made into servants. Wilabolia's two sisters were mentioned as being maids for Lynk for only a few years before "disappearing"; Wex, himself, claimed to of come upon a document that listed around fifty maids as being killed after an in-house uprising occurred.

The marriage between Wex's parents wasn't a good one; Lynk spent a lot of time either conquering galaxies or hunting, while Wilabolia spent most of her time either being a virtual prisoner of his castle—ironically, the same one that Trobrencus and his family resided in—or doing small tasks like sewing, cooking, and cleaning. The couple had six children together; Wilabolia wasn't allowed to be apart of her offsprings' lives. The children had basically been born and then taken away. Lynk had concerned himself with only the boys—Wex, NykxVile Xolo Surfeit, and UkVile Zye Surfeit. The girls—the given names were the only things known on them: BerimaiVile, VeeVile, and DawbraVile—were cared for by the maids; Wex claimed that, of his three sisters, only one survived to adulthood. The other two—Berimai and Dawbra—died after contracting an illness that he and his two brothers also had in their youths. VeeVile Surfeit was forced into being a maid for her father.

Wex's childhood wasn't a good one. He learned how to hunt, and how to use a sword, at a very young age. Wex was also forced into being a studious boy; one of his aunt's daughters was betrothed to him not long after his birth so, along with studying and training with the sword, and with his powers, he was also taught "proper" etiquette of marriage.

"The training of the boy, who would soon become a conqueror, was hard; requests for breaks were either ignored or refused. The consumption of caffeine was the only thing that kept the three boys alert and on their feet. Whenever one of the boys got fussy over lack of sleep, or because of hunger pains, a beating would happen. The middle-born of the three boys, NykxVile Xolo Surfeit, disappeared soon after being sent to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic—while it is mentioned in school records that he did attend the school for fifty years, no other record exists of his graduating or even dropping out of the school. UkVile Zye Surfeit, the younger of the three boys, disappeared after marrying his first cousin."

Unlike Lynk, who conquered to either expand his territories, gain wealth, or to spread his name, Wex conquered to spread fear and to get back at his father. Wex claimed to of moved out from his father's overbearing nature soon after returning home from his third education—reputably, The School of Dark Magic; he was a pupil at the University of Evil prior to going to that education. Two galaxies and seventy planets—the names of which were all lost and unknown—were conquered and then destroyed right after the move. Wex's first move in showing his great displeasure with his father was the conquest of the Berienicles Galaxy—which was Lynk's Crown Jewel; it took all of a thousand years before the galaxy fell. Wex's vast wealth came from that conquest.

The next two galaxies that he conquered, the Clepeth and the Syncia, were destroyed via the Dacops Crystal; most of the planets that were in the Khuh Galaxy were also destroyed.

Wex's marriage history was very rocky and horrifying; the marriage to his first cousin, Belsamra Mescrell, was followed through. That marriage wasn't a happy or pleasant one. Belsamra filed for divorce one day when he was away, dealing with business on one of his conquered realms; spousal abuse was the reputed reason for why the divorce happened. No children were born to the pair. Wex was very young when he married Belsamra; for the most part, he ignored her until his late teenage years. The issue of abuse started soon after that.

Grece Slarkenia, Wex's second wife, came from the Banyl Galaxy—another galaxy that was once in Wex's father's control. She, and about a hundred other women, were lined up and then presented to their new ruler soon after the galaxy fell; Wex had intended to just sleep with the women, he hadn't meant to take any home or marry any of them. Grece must of impressed him, because he took her home, married her, then started a family with her; two daughters, Kamiki and Blithee, were born to the pair. No record existed of Grece after the birth of Blithee. She just disappeared; even Wex claimed to not know where she went.

The last woman that he was accredited to was Henratantya Vishroni—the woman that she and all of her children were descended from. Henratantya was around his age when they met. It took around a thousand years before a wedding ring was placed on her finger. Five children were born to the pair—NuutaliiVile Vrapegg Surfeit, a boy; WolwerdVile Relstak Surfeit, another boy; XhisliVile Tutze Surfeit, a girl; IackVile Uovo Surfeit, another boy; and SweeikVile Oosoof Surfeit, another girl. Wex's relationship with his third wife was said to be "trying". Other than being very affectionate towards one another, they fought... and a lot. Henratantya Vishroni took her own life after a particularly nasty fight—she jumped from the open balcony that overlooked their bedroom chamber.

"The children fathered by Wex experienced a more smoother childhood; they were allowed to mature a little before being taught their powers. Like his father before him, Wex tutored and trained his offspring himself; even the daughters were tutored and trained by him. While Wex was said to be a more patient father than his own, he did have a tendency in being harsh towards his children's lack in acquiring some of his powers. Nuutalii only acquired his father's Energy powers, and Wolwerd's powers were weak in comparison to his siblings'. Iack was the only one of the five to acquire Energy and Elemental powers. None of Wex's offspring acquired the use of his Electromagnetic Power."

Wex was born on the same day as Iack; July 7, of the year 636—not 798, as the Surfeit book claimed. He was around six foot, two inches tall and he was rather imposing. The horns that grew from the sides of his head were white in color; they had also curved around his ears. The left side of his body was white, while the right side of his body was gray. His eyes were a solid, dark red color. He died on September 1, 1,305—about eighteen hundred years after her great-great-great grandfather's, RaalVile Dawlur Surfeit's, birth. Poisoning was the suspected cause for his death. His father, LynkVile Surfeit, died one day later; it was highly suspected that he was the one that poisoned him.

"It-k-s not here!" Guyunis said. He sounded disappointed; that surprised her.

"What's not there?" she asked.

"How to make the power go away."

"G," she said. She gently took the book from him then took him by the hand. "You can't wish powers away, son. You're stuck with whatever you get."

"I don-k-t want this one, mum!" Guyunis said sternly.

"I'm afraid that I can't help you in that area, honey. I can help you in understanding this power, but I can't help you in getting rid of it; once you're born with a power, you're stuck with it. It's like a contract of sorts." she said, trying to both calm him and explain to him why he couldn't just wish his powers away. "There are many out there experiencing the same problem as you. Many who are born with a power that they don't want or that they're afraid of. They either learn to understand what they have then accept it, or they go by life being a nervous wreck."

"Tha-k-t book said that Vilian's owned the power... they used the power lon-k-g before discovering and then using-k Elemental powers." Guyunis said. He picked at the chain that was wrapped around his neck. "Wha-k-t's a Vilian, mum?"

"Half of you," she replied.

"Huh?"

"Your father's a Vilian, Guy. You get the power from him."

"He can do tha-k-t Electroma-k-gnetic power!" Guyunis exclaimed.

"No," she knew for a fact that Shaam was an assured wielder of just Elemental and Energy powers; he had never used or disclosed any knowledge of Electromagnetic powers in his life.

"Then... how..."

"You inherited that power from him. It's woven into his DNA." she explained. "Your great-great granddaddy had that power; while his offspring didn't have that power, they did carry a gene for it. It can be p—"

"Passed down. Like... like hair or skin color?" Guyunis asked

"Yes."

Like with the dark-haired, eyed, and skinned family that suddenly and unexpectedly produced a light-haired, blue-eyed, and light-skinned child, apparently everyone in the Surfeit family had forgotten that, at one time, their family had used Electromagnetic powers. WexVile Surfeit was a terrifyingly powerful man; not only had he been a terrific user of his Energy and Elemental powers but he had also been a very adept being with his Electromagnetic powers. He used the power many times during his career as a conqueror; his conquest of the Berienicles and Banyl Galaxies was only done after his use of the power. While Lynk knew and used the power, he wasn't able to keep up with his stronger and more powerful son. WexVile's prowess in the power was proven after he used it to destroy the two unknown galaxies and seventy planets that he took early on in his conquering days; the man was able to detonate the galaxies and planets by turning their natural radiation against them.

Back in the day, way before the discovery, and then use, of Energy and Elemental powers, Electromagnetic powers was the starter power of the Vilian race. All of her and her family's ancestors had used that power; while strong, it was a slow maturing power that took a right long time to acquire and then get use to. WexVile, himself, even admitted to having troubles with the power. It took him nearly a thousand years to master it. By the time Energy and Elemental powers were discovered, the Vilian race was looking for and hoping to acquire a different power that was much faster to learn and get use to; Electromagnetic powers had, basically, gone extinct after Lynk's and Wex's deaths.

Guyunis was the only person in her family and, quite possibly, in the Universe that wielded Energy, Elemental, and Electromagnetic powers. While that was quite scary in its own right—with there being no one in the Universe that used Electromagnetic powers, how was her son going to learn how to use this power correctly?—she had faith that her son would be careful whenever he used the power. To ensure that he acquired the correct knowledge on the power, she asked for Zorax to find any and all books on it for her. Two of the three books that she brought back were on that one power. Guyunis was set; he just needed to accept what he had now.

"This is your power, not mine or your brothers'." she said. The sweet-smelling scent of bacon could be smelled. Her stomach rumbled loudly. "It's up to you on what you want to do with it; before you make the decision of trying to forget it—"

"I know I can-k-t do that." Guyunis said. He thumbed the spine of the Electromagnetic power book. "I've tried to; i-k-t keeps coming back and its get-k-ting stronger."

"I want you to read up on the power. Them three books are yours; have fun in reading them. If you decide to give this power a try, be careful. As always, don't hurt yourself. Train to learn, not to hurt yourself."

Exhaustion clawed at her backside as she went downstairs; with it being only twenty minutes past eight, she shouldn't be this tired. Lhaklar was in the living room; a large piece of chocolate mousse cake was on his lap, the news was on. Bile, Hazaar, and Lazeer were at the table; plates of bacon, eggs, and buttered toast were in front of them. She grabbed herself her own plate then joined then at the table. Breakfast was pleasant. They ate in silence before going off to do whatever plans they had for the day.

The run-down look on Lazeer's poor, battered face looked to of gotten worse in the twenty minutes that she was getting things straight with Lhaklar and then Guyunis; he went up to his room after finishing his breakfast. She wasn't surprised to find him napping a few minutes later. Hazaar grabbed a light coat from his bedroom close; he left the house without saying a word on where he was going or on what he was planning on doing. Bile went down to the "Son Cave"; he, Lhaklar, and Guyunis would soon hold a contest in who could lift the most weight—a contest that he'd win by a substantial margin. Seeing as everyone and everything in the house was so quiet, she decided to catch a few more zzz's.


	54. Chapter 54

As it turned out, that talk with his mother, and that extra large slice of chocolate mousse cake, was just the thing he needed to set himself right. He felt a lot more cleaner after doing both; his mother was very understanding, as always, and she helped him through his ordeal like any good mother should. While his love for her already had no words for a full-on description, it definitely went up a bunch of notches after that talk.

The slice of cake that he had gotten had done the rest in setting himself right; the rich flavor, the "purs" that his starving belly did after that first bite slid down into his stomach acids, the largeness of the slice that he had gotten... it was all good! He did his best to make each bite last. Other than coming in third place in Bile's weight-lifting contest, the rest of his morning went well; with his mother and baby brother sleeping soundly, and with Bile, Guyunis, and Hazaar out of the house for most of the day, he set himself down to getting the outfit that he was trying to make for the last two months done.

The weather was a big help with that task; he, his family, Mr. Leinart, Mr. Ballal, and the people that were trying their best to keep tabs on the weather all agreed that the weather that was experienced in the last six days couldn't be compared to all of what was experienced the last six months. The skies over all of Germany had darkened on the tenth of April; a brisk breeze was felt then, at around noon, the sky opened up. It rained for all of two hours, then it started to snow. For all of four days, it did nothing but snow; a light snow during the morning hours, then a raging, blinding, snowstorm took over during the afternoon and night hours. No one had dared to leave their homes, even their mother refused to go to work.

He spent most of his time on the days that it snowed up in the attic; one in his profession had to know how to either use a needle or a sewing machine. While outfits could be bought, it didn't hurt to add that "special" touch that brought in more cash. Sadly, his skills in using a sewing needle weren't that good. The suction cups that were on the ends of his fingers got in the way and he was right clumsy in keeping his hold of the needle. His skills in using a sewing machine were far better in comparison; of the four costumes that he had, and that he used to dance in, two were made by him from scratch. Naturally, the Tarzan costume that he wore each Monday and Saturday night brought in the most revenue; the ladies just went crazy over that outfit. The Hunter outfit—which was just plain camo clothes, with rips or tears in the pant legs or shirt sleeves—was the next outfit that generated the most revenue; he wore that each Wednesday night.

He couldn't wear a medieval knight's outfit; his frame was much too narrow, and he looked downright silly in all the fake armor. The Firefighter outfit that he had was also silly; he didn't get as much money with that costume. The ladies weren't that keen on that outfit and, honestly, neither was he. He barely used the Firefighter outfit to dance in. If not for the €30.95 price tag, he'd of junked that outfit a long time ago. The Inmate outfit, which cost him €40, was another outfit that he barely wore in his dance routines; while the ladies seemed to enjoy his being led out from behind "bars" with shackles on his wrists and ankles, he didn't much like the feeling that he got when it came to taking the outfit off. There were six buttons that he had to undo, and there were also the big boots that he had to remove, and then there were the shackles... there was just too much to take off with that outfit. Too much hassle and, again, not enough revenue to warrant frequent use. He either used a simple, male G-string on Friday night or he used one of the two outfits that he didn't like using on that night's routine.

Or, at least until that morning. He had a whole new outfit that he was going to try out for his routine that morning; while he was nervous over what he had planned to do, he was hopeful that some cash flow would happen. His performance needed a little variety, and his outfits _were_ getting a little "stale" for the crowds. There was a pair of black formal pants in his bag; the chain, that was hanging from the left side pocket, had come with them, as had the black vest and the blue checkered necktie that had a collar attachment. The only things that hadn't come with the outfit were the black formal shoes and socks that were on his feet. He'd don all of what he had in his bag after reaching his locker; he'd swap the clothes that he was currently wearing then he'd go out on the stage when it was his turn to have the floor... unless his boss, Miss. Janina Duerr, wanted him to work one of the available "cages", that was.

"Mr. Lhaklar?" Giles Fenstermacher, a huge Afro-German man, who took no shit from anyone or anything, said after he walked up to the establishment's rear entrance. "It going to snow again? You usually come in at night."

"Had a chat with Miss. Duerr last night, I'm in need of some quick cash. Can't really wait until tonight to come in, I need it now." Lhaklar said.

"And what better place to achieve that goal in than here?" Giles smiled, then got serious. "You know the drill, I.D."

"Right here my good man." the breeze that was blowing nearly snatched the fake I.D. from his hand; Giles grabbed it then held it tightly. He checked it over quickly then gave it back.

"Go on," Giles said. "it's warm in there, so you won't have to worry about anything falling off."

"Thank goodness for that!" Lhaklar chuckled as he went into the building.

Regardless of the time, his workplace was still the same. Clean and well-organized; there were several stages, or stands, arranged near the building's middle. They had poles on them. The stages, or stands, that had no poles on them were to the far right of the building; the red curtains, that were at the backs of these stages/stands, allowed for a more authentic feeling in the dancers' performances. The three, crib-like areas, that he and his fellow dancers called "cages", were in the center of the building. There were tables, that had two chairs pushed under them, between the "cages" and the stages/stands that had poles on them.

The bar was still at the building's back, it was stocked with just about any type of alcoholic beverage one could think of. The lockers were behind the bar; the door was half ajar, so he knew that there were people in there, getting ready for the morning's dancing. Miss. Duerr's office was still in the far left corner of the establishment; the door was open, as it always was. Miss. Duerr was at the bar, getting her usual, which was a gin and tonic—since she was the owner of the club, she didn't have to pay for her drinks. The bartender knew better than to ask her for payment for the drinks that he made for her.

While he didn't know much about the building's morning routine, he did know this—business had picked up some in the last few months. Women were leaving home to visit the many clubs that were in the Ettlinger Tor Shopping Center; he was making a little more money to keep his family going. From what he could see, it looked like the morning's round of dancing was no different than the night's. The building was nearly, completely, full of women waiting for the next round of dancers to come out; nearly all of the tables in the establishment were full. There were a few women walking around, and there were four or five sitting at the bar.

Thanks to the many lights that were in the establishment, the building's interior was very colorful; the flashing neon lights would be turned on in a few short minutes after the dancing began—those would make the building look even more colorful on the inside. The tile floor that he was walking on was blue and green, while the walls that were around him were green painted; there were bouncers stationed at each of the establishment's entrances. They made sure that the people that came in had an appropriate I.D. and they also made sure that no one that walked in had any weapons on their persons.

"Are my eyes deceiving me? What the hell are you doing here at this time in the morning?" Anton Fashingbauer, a red-haired man, who had blue eyes and a face-full of freckles, said after he walked into the room that all of the lockers were in.

"Need money—one of my baby brothers has a birthday coming up." he replied as he punched his ticket in. He looked at the many cards that were in the container that was beside the punch-in machine; of the twenty-one cards that were in the container, eleven weren't punched. "Rémy and Aldric aren't here?"

"Aldric's not comin'," Anton replied. "Called in saying that he and his lady are having trouble at home. I don't know where Rémy is."

"We've done decently without him," Kristof Rothbauer, a short, brown-haired man, who had icy blue eyes, said. "Miss. Duerr isn't happy over his not being here, but, now that you're here, we'll have some of the slack taken from our shoulders."

In all, there were nine men in the locker room; Kristof Rothbauer was the oldest of them at thirty-seven, while he was the youngest at "twenty-one". Anton Fashingbauer was the next youngest at twenty-four. Everyone else was either between twenty-four and thirty-seven years of age. While most of the dancers that were in the room were slim or athletic or muscular, there were a few that had some extra baggage or that were just plain obese—there were some women that had a preference for that and Die Heiß und Hastig had made a point to provide that in hiring men that were obese or that had a little extra skin on their bones. While he got along with most of the men in the room, he paid special attention to steer clear of Ambros Kloppenburg—the man wasn't only of the highly-tempered sort but he was very obese and he spoke rather lowly of anyone that was under the age of twenty-five. He and Anton tried their best to give the man a wide berth, and they also tried to not be on when he danced—the man was very apt to accuse them of stealing his show if they did.

He was very surprised that Rémy De Sauveterre, a French man, who was very tall, yet very slim, wasn't in the building. Rémy was usually the first to clock in, and he was also the one that made the most revenue; there was just something about the Frenchman that the ladies liked—they just about went crazy when he started dancing and they just about cried themselves hoarse when his routine was over. He had a feeling that the ladies were right depressed over their House Favorite being a no-show that morning. Maybe Rémy being a no-show was the reason for why his boss was so enthusiastic over his showing up that morning? There was quite a lot of gossip going around the building that said that he was right up there alongside Rémy in being a House Favorite; while he did try his best in dancing, he wasn't out to push anyone from the House Favorite spot. He was just there to make money to help his family get by each month.

After punching his ticket in, he went over to his locker—which was nothing fancy; just your basic four-foot tall locker, with a combination pad screwed in on the door. He dialed his combination in on the pad then, after the door's lock gave way, he swung the door open. He placed his bag on the shelf that was in his locker, then unzipped it, then took the outfit that he had plans on wearing that morning while he was on the dance floor out. He took his coat, scarf, and gloves off next.

"No Tarzan loincloth this morning, Bub?" Anton asked after he took his outfit out of his bag.

"No, trying something new." he replied.

"Hope it works out for ya," Anton, who was wearing what he called his Safari Uniform, said back. "Don't come cryin' to me if it doesn't."

"Very funny," Lhaklar replied as he put the outfit that he packed in his bag earlier that morning on. After closing his locker, he looked over at the five-foot tall mirror that was at the far end of the room. He took in his appearance quickly, then sat down on the bench that was in front of the lockers. "Not bad. Bit corny, but not bad."

"Hoping to wow the crowd with a Butler Routine this morning, Mr. Lhaklar?"

A knock-out, that was also small and dainty—that was one of many ways to describe his boss, Miss. Janina Duerr. She was one of them women that made penises want to leap out of their masters' pants; her hips were nicely rounded, her breasts were perky, yet nicely proportioned to her body—not too small, but not too big either—, and her arms were very nicely smooth and slender. She made wearing makeup a crime; makeup made her look a little less dazzling, she was a natural beauty that needed no makeup enhancements. He was most attracted to them legs of hers. When he came into her office that first time in August, she had them up on her desk. Their tanlieness was perfect, and the muscles that were in them... mmm mmm mmm, any man would want them legs wrapped around him.

There were only two women that made him jump and stand at attention; one was his boss, Miss. Janina Duerr, while the other was his mother, who he thought and fully believed was the most beautiful woman in the Universe.

Miss. Janina Duerr was standing half-in and half-out of the locker room; they all stood at attention after she spoke. She was like a General to them. Her beauty was great, she was very nice, but she had a way of keeping her dancers in line; she would lash that tongue of hers at any disobeying male that was in the building. No one was really immune to that tongue of hers... even he was lashed by it! Their employer stood in the doorway for nearly a minute before coming in; she looked everyone over—much like a General does when he's doing his surprise locker inspections—then she went over to the punch-in machine. She looked at the machine, then she looked at the cards, that were in the container, that was beside the machine, for a long time before speaking again.

"Mr. Aldric and Mr. Rémy have excuses for not coming in; Rémy's got issues at home. The last I heard, his girl's water broke last night." she said. She never said their surnames; she either called them by their first or given names or she inserted their first or given names after saying Mr.

"Isn't it a bit early for Ester to be having her baby?" Kristof asked.

"Not at all, Mr. Kristof," Miss. Deurr replied. "She's nearly eight and a half months along; they might keep her and her baby a few days. They'll be fine, though."

"Good thing you came in then," Anton punched Lhaklar in the shoulder. "With Rémy on "paternal" leave, we'll need all the help we can get on that floor."

"We'll fare well," Miss. Duerr murmured. Her brown eyes became downcast for a second before brightening. "There's a full-house out there, Boys. Best make sure to treasure this morning, neither you nor I will know when another will happen."

"Hopefully two more will happen before my kid's birthday." Anton said.

"Hopefully more than two will happen before your kid's birthday, Mr. Anton." Miss. Duerr corrected quickly. "Be ready, the lights are to be dimmed in T-minutes five minutes. Be on your A-game, Boys."

What could he say, once the call was made, he got down to being dirty and serious; with the exception of Bile, no one in his family was able to go out to get Hazaar anything. The weather had really crippled his and his family's plans for his brother's birthday. A quiet breakfast was eaten; none of them spoke all during the meal. After the meal was consumed, almost all of them left the house. With there being just six days before his brother's birthday, they were really all pressed for time. There were presents to find and then buy; his mother already had the cake and ice cream, but she didn't have the meal that Hazaar had asked to be made on his special day. She went out to get the leg of lamb, while Bile and Guyunis went off to some unknown location together; Hazaar went off to to spend some time exercising, while Lazeer stayed home.

The thing that Bile had for Hazaar was big. There was really no reason for his older brother to go out to get a bunch of little things for Hazaar; the thing that he had for their brother would keep their brother's interest for a long time. Bile had the thing well-hidden in the attic; he found it in a dumpster somewhere. Someone had just tossed the thing, which was mind-boggling. This thing was remote controlled, and it came up to his waist; it was one of them robot Wildcat's that some company called Boston Dynamics had made some thousand to two thousand years ago. This thing could stalk, pounce, walk, trot, and gallop; it could reach a speed of 16-MPH in little under a minute. While freaky, he and Bile had both agreed that Hazaar would love it.

None of them could compete or come close to competing with Bile's surprise find; they were just going to try their best in finding and then buying things that Hazaar would like. The thought was what counted, right?

"Grilled leg of lamb, with steamed potatoes and carrots—Hazaar's ultimate favorite meal, and the meal that he almost always asks to be made on his birthday—and lemon-flavored, camouflage tie-die cake, with blueberry-banana ice cream... that's what's going to be made on Hazaar's birthday." he thought before hitting the stage.

The music played during one's time on stage was just as important as the outfit and moves incorporated into the routine. The music had to be right; no one wanted a too fast or slow dance and no one wanted the music to distract or confuse the audience. Lazeer would probably be a bit miffed over his use of one of his remix tunes; he did a little listening of one his youngest brother's remix CDs a few weeks ago—the remix tune for Pornstar Dancing was very catchy and it'd do him and his routine well. He made a copy of the tune, then he started using it for his routine. The tune was doing his routine well; he was very pleased with his choice of music and, as far as he could tell, so was his boss.

The first hour of his routine went well. He was on the stage twice; around a hundred euros was thrown at him. When he exited the stage that second time, he was drenched in sweat and in desperate need of a break. While he was allowed to wipe the sweat from his body, he wasn't really allowed to have a break; an unexpected guest suddenly appeared in the locker room. He and the four men that were in the room jumped after the lightning post-teleportation effect that his brother had picked out for himself was felt.

"What?" he said after getting over his shock.

"First off, yuck." Hazaar said in a language that the humans didn't understand. "I thought seeing you naked at the hot springs that were close to our old home was bad, this is faaaaar worse."

"What'd he just say?" Anton asked. "He's your bruder, right?"

"Yes," he replied, a little nervously.

"Should I get Giles? An I.D. is needed to be shown before entrance to this establishment can be achieved." Anton said.

"No, he'll only be here a second." he said. He grabbed his brother by the arm then took him out of the room quickly.

The lights that were in the building were still dimmed. Nearly all of the stages were occupied, it looked like everyone was having a good time.

Alexei Kanstantinov, the Russian who fancied wearing a Leopard-print male g-string during his shows, was using one of the cages. Emeric Beitel was doing a radical routine as Ken, the male equivalent of the Barbie doll, on one of the stages that had a pole on it. The women that liked a little more weight on their men were going crazy over Ambros Kloppenburg's little act; the man was jingling all over the place with his break-dancing routine. The man from Poland, Alojzy Adamczyk, was practically humping the pole that was on the stage that he was dancing on.

The floor of the stage that Kristof Rothbauer was doing his Knight routine on was nearly covered in cash, as were the two, neighboring stages where the twins, Dante and Lucca Adduci, were dancing on. Braith Llewellyn, the Welsh man, who was pretty new in the building, seemed to be doing a doctor routine—the man was dressed in nothing more than a g-string and a white doctor's overcoat; there was a stethoscope hanging around his neck. The ladies looked a little transfixed by Braith's routine; it looked like they wanted more, yet it also looked like they had enough of what he was doing, which was funny, since Braith seemed to be putting a lot of effort into his performance.

Janina Duerr was where she normally was—at the bar, keeping an eye on her men as they danced for their paychecks. The bartender, Otto Oppenheimer, was sending a round of drinks to a group of women that looked college-aged; when he saw him he waved. He waved back then continued on his way.

"Quit pulling me around!" Hazaar snapped. He yanked his arm free then stopped. "I'm not here to check out the routines or to pester you."

"Then why are you here?" Lhaklar asked.

"To give you this," a brown paper bag was held up. Lhaklar took it, then opened it.

"What's this? A change of clothes?"

"Lunch, figured you'd need it."

"Homemade?"

"No. Bile'd go nuts with envy—it's chicken fingers, potato wedges, and dipping sauce. From Kentucky Fried Chicken." Hazaar replied.

He wasn't stupid by any means; Lhaklar's hours were at night—he wouldn't be stripping at this hour in the morning unless he was in dire need of cash for something... and that something, he was quite sure, had something to do with his upcoming birthday.

He went out to check on a few things—the locker room at Rheinwaldschule being the main area of interest, of course. School was in attendance for only half of a day on the tenth of April. The four days that followed were no-school days; the roads were too snow-logged, and conditions were just too dangerous to send kids to school on them days. School was also closed on the fifteenth of April; to allow for conditions to stabilize, and to allow for the roads to be cleared. School was just two days returned; it was just cold and windy the last two days. From what he saw, gym-class was in session, but it was inside-based. The coaches/teachers were being wise in keeping their students inside—it was really cold out and the wind was getting worse by the hour.

He took care of his personal interest shopping on the eighth of April, after he and his brothers were allowed to leave the house after the weather calmed down some. Except for the April issue of Playboy, which was on his person, all of his April-edition magazines were at home. So was the pack of Marlboro's. He had a pack of Kamel Light Red's in his back pocket; the seal had yet to be broken on them. Seeing as most of his family was so focused on him, he decided to get a little something hot for everyone. There were three hot Frappuccino's in the microwave at home; those were for his mother, Bile, and Guyunis. With Lhaklar at work, he decided to get him a lunch. That way he wouldn't have to worry about fighting the weather when it came time to going out to get something to eat. Even though Lazeer was sick with the flu, he got him something too. There were two warm hash browns in the microwave with the Fraps; he hoped that his brother had enough strength to eat them—he had surely not had much strength to eat breakfast earlier.

The i8 BMW was right outside the club that his brother "worked" at. He parked it then he teleported; no need to show I.D., or be embarrassed over being asked why he wanted entrance to an all-male strip club. He hadn't yet gotten around to exercising. He was too preoccupied over checking out the girls showering at Rheinwaldschule, and then getting his family something hot to eat/drink, to exercise.

"Thanks man," Lhaklar said. He closed the bag then said a spell that sent it to his locker.

"No problem, thought you'd need it." Hazaar said back.

"Much appreciated, now think you best—"

"Recruiting family or trying to get yourself into trouble, Mr. Lhaklar?"

The muscles in his loins started working at once; the woman that was walking towards him and his brother was a babe! Short, very pretty, and dark haired. She had a soft, European look to her face; her jaw was nicely chiseled, her cheekbones were high, her chin was small and petite, and her lips were full. Her complexion matched her dark hair and eyes well. He couldn't help but take in her legs; they were long, feminine in structure, but very finely muscled. The brown dress, that she was wearing, was short; it barely came down to her knees. Thanks to the design of her dress, he could see her perky, and nicely proportioned, breasts. Who was this woman? He had to check himself to make sure he wasn't drooling.

"He was just leaving, Miss. Duerr." Lhaklar said after the woman reached them.

"Who is he? You know the rules here—women and only women allowed inside." the woman looked him up and down before walking around him. The braided, attached extension, that was on his four and a half inch long rattail, was suddenly lifted and then pulled. Normally, he'd snap at one who touched his hair. Since it was a girl that had him by the hair, he bit that snap back. "Don't need to be told that he's younger than you. He's got a good build on him, but he's rather immature on his backside."

"What?" he turned to look at the woman sharply. Had she just said what he thought she did? That his backside looked immature?

"My brother." Lhaklar replied. He grabbed, then pinched, his brother's hand to shush him before going on. "He's one thousand, seven hundred, and one years old—seventeen in human years, ma'am."

"Oh, well no wonder he looks so immature back here then." the woman smiled, then started walking away.

"Think you better l—"

"If he's not gone in two minutes, Mr. Lhaklar, I'll have both he and you thrown out." the woman casually said over her shoulder. "Make your goodbye's quick now, Boys."

If someone had told him who the woman was and what her association was with the building, his opinion of her would of been a little less harsh. Right now, without being told a thing on her, he found himself not liking her. She was walking around like she owned the damn place—that was a serious turn-off for him! Why were all the pretty or beautiful girls like that? Why did they walk around with such an arrogant air around themselves and why did they run their mouths like the one that just examined him did? His mother was an extraordinarily beautiful woman; she didn't go around, thinking that she was all that and a bag of chips, and she didn't go around running her mouth either. She acted mature and she treated others right; respect was given when and where it was needed. When she needed to run her mouth, she did so maturely and respectfully.

While tempted to stick around, to get his brother in trouble, and to get under the woman's skin a little more, he left the building soon after the woman returned to the bar. He told his brother to have fun with his weird job, then teleported to the parked BMW that he and his brothers owned. He started the vehicle up after getting in it then drove off. The radio was tuned to channel 101.8 FM, the Radio 7 radio station that played adult contemporary hits—or that focused on the top forty music hits of that type of music. He listened to last year's, and some of that year's, top songs for ten minutes before reaching down to turn the radio off; once the radio was off, he teleported.

The act of teleportation could well of messed with the radio's inner workings and frequencies. The radio would of been destroyed and he'd of been in big trouble; Bile liked listening to the radio when he drove the car, and so did Lhaklar, Guyunis, and Lazeer. Their mother would of gone red in the face if the radio in his and his brothers' car was blown. Once in Steinmauern, he turned the radio back on then resumed driving. He drove on for fifteen more minutes before pulling off the road. He parked the i8 BMW on the shoulder, near a field where dead potatoes were growing, then got out. He went straight for the shield afterwards.

"Mom would have a cow," he thought as he exited the shield. "I'll do what I want to do near the shield; that way, if anything happens, it won't be but such a long run to get back to it."

That woman at his brother's workplace hadn't been shy about him—she had seen something that she hadn't liked and she had voiced it. Maybe the girls that he failed in trying to pick up as dates the last few months had seen something in him that they hadn't liked either. Nearly two months ago, when he was an attendee to that music festival that was held in England, he tried to pick up a date. Every attempt that he made had ended in failure; the girls that he tried to pick up had either laughed at him or looked him over before walking away. He was polite and mature at that festival, no hint of desperation had come from him, yet each attempt had ended in failure; maybe what that woman at his brother's workplace had noted was the problem in his not being able to pick up dates. His front side was good to go. It was full of good, firm muscle. His backside, on the other hand, did require some work. His back was smooth and nearly devoid of muscle—it was embarrassing! Bile, Lhaklar, and Guyunis had no problems in picking up dates; they possessed good, strong bodies that, obviously, the women liked. Women didn't have to look hard to see the muscles that were on them; the woman at his brother's workplace had noticed how good his front side was, but she had also noticed how not-good his backside was.

He decided that it was time to get to work on getting some muscle on his back; he took his jacket, then his red t-shirt, off, then he slung both over an overhanging branch. He started exercising after them two clothing articles were squared away.

He started his routine by grabbing two branches that had some space between them. He did a fifteen minute pull-up session before moving on to doing chin-ups. He did a ten-minute session of hyperextensions—a type of exercise that works the lower back as well as the mid and upper back—while lying face-down over a large rock, then he took a small break before going on to doing more pull-ups. He ended his routine by grabbing and then pulling some vines that hung from a nearby tree. There were no rowing machines out where he was; he had to utilize the environment around him to get the results that he wanted—which was good, hard, solid muscle on his back. A little more muscle to his arms, chest, and legs wouldn't hurt, but it was mainly his back that he was working on.

It was best to concentrate on more than one muscle while exercising; one didn't want to put the muscles through too much stress and no one wanted to injure themselves during the work-out. The purpose of exercising was to keep healthy and to build muscle mass; causing injury to one's self during the exercise session defeated that purpose. In order to give his back and arms a breather before the next exercise session, he began running.

The real exercise session, and a near heart attack, began shortly after he started running.

"Get 'em!" Nygiti Meltin yelled. "Rourke, you're closer! Get him!"

"Fuck getting him! Herd him from the shield!" Rourke Ibmhun yelled back.

If not for the month-long stay at Bolshaviks, he'd be well ahead of Rourke. The chase would of been over. The kid would of been caught, then subdued, then they'd of gone home... or, pardon, to the White House that acted as their residence for the last couple of months. The lengthy stay at the hospital had taken its toll on both of them; losing nearly all of their blood, then needing six bags of blood to get their blood levels to a more secure level, was bad. So had the three surgeries that they endured... and the loss of twenty-five pounds. The complete loss of their powers was far worse, though. Rourke, who was rooming with him during their time at the hospital, had nearly caved after being told about the possible permanent loss of his powers. If his wife, Vhajippae, wasn't at his side at the time, he'd of caved as well; losing the powers that you've grown up with was far worse than losing a limb or bleeding out or needing a surgery. Their powers were apart of them. A big chunk of them would of been missing if they were forced to go through life without their learned powers.

Luckily, they didn't have to worry about that. Their powers were still with them; they were slowly, very slowly, returning. The weight that they lost was also slowly being regained. Of the four of them that were admitted to the hospital with their employer, only two had returned to work. Galong Exadhoo, who nearly died on more than one occasion while on the operating table, was still in the hospital. He had a few more days to go before being released. He was probably going to stay at home for a few months before returning to work. Lynster Purlachi had an even rougher time than Galong; his liver and kidney's had both given out on him before he was even placed on the operating table. He was pronounced deceased twice before being revived. It'd probably be a while before they saw him roaming the halls of their employer's residence on Gamma Vile.

While their employer's stay at the hospital wasn't good, he was faring well. Nearly all of the forty pounds that he lost during his tenure at Bolshaviks were regained. His powers weren't tampered by the poisoning that caused their tenure at the hospital.

If not for the slow return of their powers, and their temporary lack of stamina, they'd of had the kid caught and then subdued in nothing flat. As it was, they had just their speed and cunning to rely on in cutting the kid off and then catching him. There were no others around to help them in the chase; their employer was dealing with important matters in Canada and, while there were men stationed nearby, they were too far away to call for help. They were on their own on this one.

"Split!" Rourke yelled. "Split now; head him off, Nygiti-eeeeee!"

The root that could of tipped the scales in the kid's favor was a small one; Rourke should of jumped over it. Instead of jumping over it, he plowed into it, which caused him to be tripped up. He leaped over his co-worker's body when he came upon it then he veered to the right; the kid was going for the shield, alright. The shield was the kid's safe area; if the kid reached it, the effort that he and his co-worker had put into the run was all for nothing. He put a burst of speed in on his run; he just barely beat the kid to the shield. The kid, who sported a rather outlandishly long braided strand to his single rattail, growled at him when he saw that he had his route blocked then turned around. The kid ran back to where the chase started; he grabbed his red t-shirt and jacket from the tree that they hung from then ran on without missing a beat—he allowed the kid to don the shirt, and then the jacket, before surging forward. Pressure started being applied to the chase right then and there.

There were a cluster of bushes to his and the kid's immediate right. Rourke charged out of them like a wild boar. He swung his arm at the kid after exiting the bushes; the kid veered to the far left at just the right moment to avoid being hit. For all of a minute, Rourke was practically breathing down the kid's neck. The back of the kid's jacket was grabbed and then yanked; the kid would of been pulled right off his feet if the clothing article was zipped or buttoned. The kid had obviously just thrown the jacket on without worrying about zipping or buttoning it up; it was ripped clean from his body. He had to dodge the jacket after Rourke tossed it behind him; the kid ran on as if nothing had happened.

The seven inch long strand of hair, that came off the back of the kid's head, was grabbed; the kid yelled after feeling his hair being yanked. Rourke was only allowed to "tap" the kid's right shoulder; the strand of hair suddenly broke in his hand—it was like the strand hadn't been apart of the kid's body. Like it was just an attachment. A fake accessory, like the one's that women wore to make their hair seem longer. Like with the jacket, the strand of hair was thrown behind his co-worker's back; he caught and then pocketed it. If the kid was caught, and then disposed of, it'd make a good trophy. Rourke's next action did something that tipped the scales in their favor—he leaped at the kid. The two landed on the ground; they tussled for all of two seconds before separating. The kid, free from his co-worker's grip, got up then ran on. Slower this time; Rourke's action had obviously done something to his leg—he looked to be having a hard time in running now.

He charged past Rourke. The torch was passed without so much as a word spoken between them;

every ounce of his strength was applied to his run as he closed the gap between he and his prey. A cheer rose out of him a second later, after his left cloven hoof struck the kid's lower back; the Latissimus dorsi muscle was tapped and right hard. While the kid hadn't stopped running, he had definitely felt pain. He yelled right after his hoof struck him. He was gearing up to strike the kid again when he suddenly made a sharp left turn; he followed his prey around a large tree, then through a cluster of thorny bushes, then around two rocks. The kid was trying to use the surrounding environment as a tool to get him to either back off or slow up; he laughed at this then added a small burst of speed to his run. The same hoof that he used to tap the kid's back with was used again; he punched the kid on the right side of the spine—hard enough to make him scream and hard enough to make him feel enough pain to slow up.

"One more! Nygiti... one more and you'll have him stopped!" Rourke, who sounded a short distance from him, yelled excitedly.

Their ordeal was not yet over and he knew it; Rourke was behind him by, at least, a few feet. He didn't know what was going on in front of them. The kid had run a few more yards before stopping. He was now turning towards them. The tactics of the chase were about to be changed. A power-battle was about to happen. No more running; the kid had made the decision to fight them.

He ran on for two more yards before stopping; the burst of blue energy, that was just thrown at him, was dodged. He decided to play a form of Chicken when he saw the steady ring of yellow energy roll up the kid's arms a few seconds later. Like the kid before him, he used the environment around him; the tree trunks repelled the yellow energy rings that were being thrown at him, while the bushes were automatically engulfed in flames after they touched them. Rourke wasn't as lucky or wise as he. The burst of blue energy had struck him head-on. His co-worker was on the ground nearby; he was searching the left-side pocket of his pants for some reason.

"That the best you can do?" he taunted the kid. He instinctively shielded his face when a shower of sparks happened to his right. He changed his position after a sudden upthrust of dirt, roots, and rocks happened behind him; he ran to where a series of thin-trunked trees were then continued with his taunting. "My mother can do better than that!"

He moved on after a sheet of fire was thrown at him. The trees, that he had only just left behind, exploded after the fire sheet struck them; the back of his imperial suit was burned away; and the fur, that was on his back, was singed just a tiny bit. Blue vapor came out of his mouth and nose as he ran to where a large rock was; he had no more ducked behind the rock before the ground behind him rolled.

"Pardon, did I say my mother? I should of said my grandmother. She's a top-notch fighter; you're crap in comparison!"

Another sheet of fire was thrown at him; this one being blue instead of normal-colored. The rock went from being a normal, dark gray color to red as the sheet of fire heated it. His cloven hoofed hands clicked together nervously. Sweat poured from his face as he waited for the attack to end. When it did, he chanced a look around the rock; his right ear came close to being severed from his head not long after that decision was made—the kid had obviously been waiting for that move. A series of sparks flew from the rock after he took refuge behind it again; he decided to change his position when he noticed that the rock was being "chiseled" in two. He ran to where a large tree was quickly. He gave his head a quick shake after reaching the tree; while he felt a little dizzy, he was still there. He wasn't ready to give up or admit defeat.

"I got your hair, Kid!" he shouted. "How much more of you will I have after this is over?" a ball of blue-colored lightning came close to striking his left side; he moved to the right ever so slightly before going on in his taunting. "You must of been the slacker-child of the family; your mother's much more powerful—she would of had me _and_ this tree burned to a crisp in _less_ than a second."

The tree stood for twenty more seconds. It lasted for two more taunts then it suddenly split in two. He had just spun a taunt on how well the kid's mother would look around his neck when the tree went. A nervous smile spread across his face when he noticed that there was nothing standing between him and his adversary. The kid cut off any attempt of escape; a rush of water made the ground to his left turn to thick, syrupy mud. Most everything to his right was burned to a crisp while everything behind him simply exploded. He was covered in a solid sheet of ash, bark chips and sawdust, and dirt in no time. The corners of the kid's O-shaped mouth turned sharply up, towards the sky; he and Rourke had come upon the kid by pure chance... they had figured that it'd be a quick chase and then capture. None of this was thought of. This was one of the younger of his employer's wife's three badly gotten brats. This wasn't Bile! He and Rourke had figured the kid as weak, vulnerable, and easily frightable; it looked like they had figured wrong this one. It also looked like this Goteian, who wasn't only a husband but also a father of three young Goteialings, who had yet to be sent off to school, was about to be made into a roasted goat.

A click was sounded from down low in his throat when he swallowed. He stepped out from behind the split tree then started circling the kid. The kid matched his circling... he had a very pronounced limp, yet he looked to be in very good control of his movements. His limp hadn't harmed his powers any, that was for sure. He chanced a look around the area; looking for Rourke... Looking for his co-worker, who was some three hundred years younger than he. While he found Rourke's complete absence odd, he didn't dwell on it for long; a personal battle, that would be won by either him or the kid, was about the begin. He had to be in control of himself to survive this one; his skin, his job, his wife, and his kids all depended on how much control he had of himself.

"Want?" he said. He took the braided strand of hair, that Rourke grabbed and then pulled from the back of the kid's head earlier, from his pocket. Maybe he could achieve the advantage on his opponent by getting his attention on something else. The kid had long hair; about four and a half inches worth, without the three inch long strand attached. He waved the braided, deep purple strand to the left, then to the right, before tossing it. The strand, surprisingly, disappeared from mid-air. It appeared in the kid's hand a second later; the smile, that the kid wore on his face, didn't falter as he tucked the braided strand into the pocket of his pants.

"You _had_ my hair." the kid's voice, though tough-sounding, had a devilishly evil tone to it that chilled him to the bone.

He didn't need to be told that he was given a small taste of what his brother went through last year, in early November. The two Goat-like beings had given him a good run for his money; the work-out, that he did an hour and twenty minutes ago, was pale in comparison to what he had just gotten through doing. Every muscle in his body screamed. He needed a break. A long one. Maybe a session in the tub with some super-heated water too. Having a good lie made up, and his mother there to comfort him after he spun that lie, would also be needed.

He was thinking about his birthday all during that run to the shield; he was born on the twenty-third of April—that was six days from now. He was six days from turning one thousand, seven hundred, and two years old. Would he live to see that age or would he perish before that day happened? Two men had meant him harm... had meant to take him from his mother and brothers. The men had probably been appointed to the area by that bastard Vile, his much-loved mother's horrible father. Vile had probably put them up to this. Had probably had them stationed at this very spot to do his dirty work for him. Coward! Cheapskate! Crook! The bastard that was his beloved mother's father was every bad word in the book to him, and so were the men that worked for him.

While he didn't know where the other guy was, he did know that he should be on the look-out for him. Who knew, maybe the guy went off somewhere to hide. Had decided to let the brown-furred guy take much of the fight before leaping in to finish things. Animals sometimes did that. Sometimes, an older animal waited for the younger animal to take down a prey item before rushing in to take the spoils. He knew that some animals also stood in-line, waiting for the one that was fighting the stronger or more successful male that had a large harem to finish before going in to end the deal. It was all a coward's way of living, but he also knew that, in the animal kingdom, it was done with the right intentions in mind. The two men that chased him hadn't had the right intentions in mind; they had meant to hurt him. Probably capture and then deliver him, all wrapped up like a friggin' Christmas present, to their employer.

Hip hip cheerio! Good jobs chaps, now stand back so I can annihilate him then claim the glory—the chase, the capture, the fear caused all through the chase and the capture, and the killing.

He wasn't going without a fight. This creature would have to put up a hell of a fight to take him. By the Gods, he wasn't going anywhere but home!

"Cold, Kid?" the creature, who stood a good six foot, three and a half inches, and who had straight, sharp-looking, and yellow-colored horns on his head, asked as they continued circling one another.

"Been too busy to feel the chill." he replied.

"Same here," the creature said. The guy cleared his throat—noisily, and with a nervous little click included—before saying something else. "So, who's Uncle Nygiti tangling with on this fine, breezy morning?"

"Your worst nightmare," he said back.

"Fine comeback, Kid." the creature, some fool named Nygiti, replied. "Bit stale and over-used, but fine."

"To a slime like you, it is." he spat.

"Come now, let's be cordial before our little dance is ended." Nygiti said. "Name's Nygiti Dostasm Meltin; I have a wife, her name's Vhajippae, and we have three kids named Frodh, Rhimlex, and Araph."

"If you're going to come at me then do so. Quit jowling and trying to distract me; I have things planned for today that you're holding up." he spat.

"Smart ass,"

"Thank you, and quite a lot more so than that loser of an employer of yours." he said smugly.

"Th—"

"That so, Brat?"

The kid's tough exterior melted after the voice of his employer was heard. When his employer stepped out of shadows, the kid's dark blue complexion dropped a degree; a look of nervousness settled over his face. The cemented smile faltered, then evaporated quickly. His employer didn't just stand in place, or wait for the kid to attack him; he charged at the kid with every single ounce of strength that he had. The kid "slipped" to the side then bolted. With there being no cover around to protect him, he was vulnerable to any and all attacks that happened. When Rourke appeared at his side, he had to fight himself to not slug him—he was abandoned! Rourke, his co-worker, and sometimes hang-out buddy, had disappeared. Had left the dirty stuff to him.

"We're on orders to not intervene." Rourke said after appearing at his side.

"Just stand by? Enjoy the show?" he asked.

"Yes; our most evil employer wasn't happy when I interrupted his business in Canada. I hope, and fully believe, he'll take all of his anger over being here on the kid and not on us." Rourke replied.

The courage that he felt earlier was sucked out of him after the man's angry, hateful, spite-filled eyes closed on him. The man that was chasing him was a much more dangerous one than the goat-man that he just had a to-do with. This was Master Vile. The bastard that was his dearly beloved mother's father. This man was out to get him. Was out to wipe him from the face of the Universe. If there was any cover around, he'd of stayed around to put in a little fight before running off like a scared little girl; he destroyed any and all cover while facing that goat-man. Any form of protection was gone for him. It was flight or be torn limb from limb.

His lungs were on fire. It hurt to breathe, but he continued running regardless of the pain. The injury that he sustained last year, in late-September, was causing him trouble; every step hurt, but he knew that to stop now meant instant death. The pain from his chipped hip, and from his exhausted lungs, would have to wait. So would the pain that he currently felt on the left side of his lower back. One of the hard, keratinized hooves of the goat-men had done something to either one of his ribs or to his spine; he could describe the pain that he felt after being punched in the back with just one or two words. Hard and sharp. It was enough to cry over, even.

There was a stitch to his right side that was also causing him to be slow in getting away from his new opponent; the bad situation that he was in had turned to being terrible and there was no way for him to get out of it. It was either run, find some cover, then fight or be killed. Master Vile was close! Very close! He could feel the man breathing down his neck! While he wasn't able to feel the cold earlier, he could now. All adrenaline was gone; it was replaced by panic.

"Call for mom!" his mind screamed. "Call her, she'll come. She'll fight him off then take you home. She'll take ca—"

The collar of his shirt was yanked back. His run was stopped. His legs were yanked right out from under him. Master Vile hand him by the neck now. He was strangling him; his feet were kicking in mid-air. He choked in air as he fought to get away. His attacker heaved him up; he held him for a few seconds before throwing him. When he landed, he noticed that there were a few, good feet between them; he screamed after colliding with the ground then got to his feet. He started running again. The heavy footfalls of his pursuer were heard for just a second before a new sound, a terrifying new sound, was heard. Of all the pains that he felt, the new one that gripped him had him for more than five minutes. A band of black-colored energy formed around his body; he was electrocuted as he was thrown every which way.

"Not so mighty now are you, Brat?" Master Vile yelled as he added more power to his attack.

A burst of white energy caused the black band of energy to disappear from his body; he used the rest of his strength to fight his opponent off. Maybe he could injure the man some... maybe he could break his leg or his back or something. He had to do something—running was no longer an option! Master Vile had shown that he was capable of catching him without pursuing him on foot; that was a scary thought that he didn't like thinking.

He threw four white fireballs at the man then, after the man managed to dodge them, he started throwing energy discs and rings. Two of his energy rings—a red and a pink—struck the man, the others missed him by a mile. The wall of purple energy that he sent in the man's direction was surprisingly split in half way before reaching its target. His enemy laughed after a vortex of flames came close to hitting him; another vortex of fire made the man take a step back, while a raging fire disc caused him to do a high-jump. While his skills in using his Acidic powers weren't the best—far from the best, actually; why hadn't he practiced more with them? he was still at the basic or beginner level with that power for crying out loud! that was more embarrassing than his smooth and nearly muscle-less back!—, he started using that power.

Master Vile roared after four unstable balls of green acid struck his chest. The unstable wave of blue acid, that he just sent at the man, had only just been sent out when something happened that made the use of that power become disabled. He had to have feeling in his hands and his hands had to be intact for him to be able to use his Acidic powers. The sudden and totally unexpected blast of energy, that knocked him back on his keister, not only injured his palms but also the suction cups that were on the tips of his fingers; each suction cup had a slit in it now. How that happened was beyond him, but he did know this—he was in even more shit now than ever.

"Mom!" he yelled as he got to his feet. "Mom! Muh—ack!"

"I don't think so, Brat." Master Vile said after grabbed him around the neck.

He was hoisted up again. His feet dangled in air this time; he couldn't kick them. Master Vile's grip was so tight... he could hardly breathe! He could feel the man's fingernails puncturing the skin that was on the sides of his neck. The little oxygen that he had in his body had to be used for the simple task of breathing; he couldn't spare any of it to kick out. While his jugular vein was safe, for the moment, the rest of him wasn't. There was a rock nearby; Master Vile carried him to it then, as expected, threw him against it. He started landing left's, then right's, to his body afterwards; only when the man released his neck did he start putting in a fight. He spat blood twice as he swung his fists at the man. The man laughed at him twice then went quiet. A good punching match was held between the two of them before a great pain was felt in his chest; that pain caused him to become disorientated. He had never felt a pain like this before. It was sharper than the pain that he experienced earlier. If he had to make any medical guesses on why he was feeling this pain, he'd bank on one of his ribs being either severely broken or being close to puncturing one of his lungs.

There were a few bushes nearby that had good, stiff thorns on them; Master Vile's legs were held apart and there was some space between them and he wasn't being held back or restrained. When the man pulled his blood-soaked fist back, he took advantage of the slim window of opportunity that he was given. He slid down from the rock, then crawled between the man's legs, then ran towards the bushes. He had just reached the bushes when something collided with him. Something strong wrapped around his torso. Instead of thinking it as his opponent, he imagined it as being a large Anaconda or Python. One of the two serpents had him and was constricting him; it was getting him ready for swallowing.

Stars danced before his eyes. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth and from his nose. Nearly all feeling left him for all of five seconds before returning. A single gasp came out of him after he collided with the ground; he barely had time to take in the pair of brown shoes that were gunning for Master Vile's black ones before experiencing a brief black-out.

"Blat dine duu!" Amadh Ubalki snarled after separating his young nephew from his attacker.

"That's my favorite animal, thanks for comparing me to it." Master Vile replied.

Unless it was absolutely necessary, he preferred to not be bothered when he was dealing with important business. Things in Canada were bad, but they could wait; he had wasted no time in getting to Rourke's and Nygiti's location after hearing their dilemma. The offing of the kid was far more important than the riots and sudden medical crises that were taking place in northern Canada. He could always finish the business that he only just managed to get halfway done in Canada at a later time; wiping the Hazaar-brat from the face of the Universe was a high-point on his list of things to do. The kid had crossed his path one too many times—his daughter had seduced him into taking the No-Birth curse from her so she could conceive this brat; this brat had used his powers on him; he was a disgrace to the family; and he was one of the three brats that his daughter should of never had.

The kid had a good arm and a strong body; he had wasted no time in making that strong body turn to mush. While the retaliation was expected, he hadn't expected for his brow to be cut or for his lower lip to be split down the middle or for his chest to be open and bleeding in more than two places. The kid was a fighter, alright; while he was strong, he was stronger and he had proved that by systematically grabbing and then trying to break his rib cage. Power-wise, the kid was weak in regards to his Acidic powers, but strong in his Energy and Elemental powers; he had watched the kid make a fool out of Nygiti. He had bid his time. Had let the kid use his available energy stores on Nygiti before going in to put a real scare in him.

The energy explosion that happened after the kid sent his unstable wave of acid his way wasn't caused by him; it was caused by one of three beings: Rourke Ibmhun, Nygiti Meltin, or Amadh Ubalki. He owed a small thanks to whoever it was that caused that explosion. The kid was crippled by that explosion and the scales, which were already tipped in his direction, were tipped even more in his direction. The kid, his prey, would of been long dead if not for Amadh Ubalki's sudden appearance; the man had thrown himself at him after he started adding pressure to Hazaar's rib cage.

He added enough pressure to break each of the kid's ribs. The kid was lying nearby; he was either unconscious or dying from lack of air or from internal bleeding. If he succeeded in breaking the kid's ribs, one or more of them broken ribs would of bruised or punctured the lungs. A being needed them lungs to breathe. The heart couldn't work alone; it needed either one or both of the lungs to aid it in giving the body oxygen and blood. They also removed carbon monoxide from oxygen and blood. If he succeeded in puncturing one or more of the kid's lungs, the kid would be experiencing severe breathing problems that'd result in the very thing that he wanted most: his death.

Unlike the last time, where he was beaten back and then kept away from Lhaklar after giving him a good pounding, he had plans to stick close to his prey. Amadh Ubalki would not be allowed to rescue the kid that he was out to get.

"Just you today? No brother to aid you?" he said as he slowly circled his new foe.

"I need no assistance in beating you or your cronies back, Vile." Amadh Ubalki snarled.

"Really? Let's put that to the test, then."

He snapped his fingers. Rourke and Nygiti ran forward after the second snapping; the two men, who were still dealing with the effects of their radiation poisoning, fought the secondborn son of Cheshire and Ashaklar Ubalki fiercely. While the men fought, he walked over to where Hazaar was. He checked the kid quickly before grabbing him up from the ground. The kid's pulse, though rapid, was normal. The lungs might of been bruised, but not severely. He might of cracked or broken a few ribs, but they hadn't done anything to the delicate lungs that they protected. No punctures had happened. The lack of air had obviously caused the kid to faint.

He picked the kid up then dropped him. Hard! He kicked him twice—right in the ribs, baby; break them ribs... make them broken ribs cause irreplaceable or fixable damage to them lungs—then he grabbed him up from the ground again. He had just thrown the kid towards a tree when he felt himself being seized; the invisible force, the dreaded Telekinesis that his uncle and the Zetakin race could do, made him become immobile for only a second before dissipating. He turned to see that, of the two men fighting Amadh, only Nygiti remained. Rourke was on his back about ten feet from him; one of his horns was broken, his fur was matted with blood, and the front of his imperial suit was missing. How had he missed Rourke's disposing? Had Rourke made a sound—a yell? a scream? anything?—or had he been disposed of quietly?

The kid was awake now. How he was still alive after being kicked in the ribs, and then slammed to the ground, was beyond him; he snarled, then lunged towards him. He had only just reached the kid when he felt the invisible force grab him; Amadh Ubalki used his Telekinetic abilities to keep him in place for only a second—that second meant the world to both him and the kid. He was kept from finishing the kid off, while the kid was allowed precious time to get to a portion of the unscathed forest. When the force released him, he wasted no time in turning around. A shower of yellow and orange sparks leaped from Amadh Ubalki's body after his orange energy burst struck him; he took off in pursuit of Hazaar after Nygiti jumped on Amadh's downed body a second later.

"Yaaaiiii-haw—is that how it goes, Brat? The rodeo's in town; the bull that you're riding is about to drop you like a red-hot tomali!" he laughed shrilly as he ran after his prey.

He ran, leaping over logs or above-ground protruding roots or things that he thought he saw, but that didn't exist. He ran on for a while before coming upon a bare patch of land that was flanked on both sides by dense forest; the river that ran through this bare patch of land—the Riedkanal, as it was called here on this part of his planet—was low, but flowing normally. The kid was standing right in the middle of it. There was a suit of water around his body; a bright blue glow was coming from it. He didn't need to be told what the kid was doing. His Daughter-Mate could heal herself with her Elemental powers; obviously, she taught her kids this technique and, obviously, the kid that he was out to get was using this technique. His prey was healing himself. Getting some of his injuries healed so he could jump back into the fight.

The bolt of energy that came out of his mouth wasn't only red but also hot; the sides of his inner mouth stung for all of ten seconds after this attack was sent out. He was just gearing up to send out a similar attack when the kid suddenly swept his arms up; the river rose before him then, before he knew it, or could get out of the way, it rushed at him. His attack exploded after the water struck it. It had no effect on the kid at all. He was knocked off his feet, then swept downriver for a few seconds. When he regained his footing, he was quick in getting out of the water.

"Let the kid heal himself," he thought as he charged down the river's right-side embankment. "The more healed he gets himself, the more pain I can inflict."

A barrage of energy balls and discs flew from his hands after he reached the embankment that stood between him and his prey; the key of his attack was simple—use the basic principle of energy not getting along with water against the kid. The kid was wearing a suit of water, and he was standing in water; Energy powers reacted much like electricity when coming in contact with water—anything and everything was electrocuted after any sort of energy attack struck it. His energy balls and discs skimmed the water's surface for all of two seconds before smacking into the kid's chest and stomach areas. The kid wasn't fast enough to deflect them. He just stood in place while they rushed towards him. The scream that came out of his prey was loud and near-deafening; the explosion, that came off the water-suit that the kid was wearing, was so great that he had to hide his eyes for a second.

"Not so sure of yourself now are you, Brat?" he yelled after the explosion caused the kid to be flung to the opposite side of the river.

The kid scrambled away from the riverbank slowly; he noticed that there were half a dozen burn-marks to the kid's body and he also noticed that the kid's left leg wasn't working properly. The leg was acting like it couldn't take the weight of the body that it was attached to; an evil laugh came out of him about that. When he charged across the river, he made sure to splash as much water as he could. The kid, when he reached his side of the river, screamed. He held his arms up. Unspoken, pleading words came out of his mouth. He laughed at that too, then jerked his leg up. His leg was about to come in contact with the kid's chest when that same sensation of not being able to control or move any parts of his body came over him.

 _"Haaaaaaazaaaarrrr!"_ Amadh yelled at the top of his voice. "Ruuuuuun, get out of here! Now!"

Amadh? How? Nygiti was on top of him when he left to pursue Hazaar. The fury that he felt at that moment was so great that he didn't care who it was that he killed. He wasn't about to let anyone steal the kid from him and he wasn't about to just let this underling keep him in this incapacitated state. The back of his head slowly churned back; his mouth opened. A shiver rolled down his body after he summoned the greatest ability that he knew of. Before Amadh or the kid knew or could prepare themselves for it, a surge of white energy shot out of his mouth. This energy surge went up then came down; it fell over his body. He felt his skin burn, and he also felt the power that had him in its grip loosen. Amadh Ubalki must of flinched or something because, after his energy surge rolled over his body, he was able to move his hands. He shot a beam of near-clear energy at the man that was trying to subdue him then, after his whole body was free of being "tied up", he changed at him. Amadh Ubalki wasn't allowed to use his Telekinesis on him again; he started beating the man's body, which was full of good, firm muscle on the top half, but that was more slender and feminine-looking from the waist on down, to a pulp after colliding with him.

"Bruise-for-a-bruise, eye-for-an-eye; this bastard's father tore my face to shreds last year. In October, after they all arrived here. It's way past time to repay the favor." he thought as he beat the man that lay beneath him.

The man tried to use his Acidic powers on him; he stomped that attempt by grabbing and then electrocuting his hands. The suction cups, that were on the ends of each of the man's fingers, were nearly burned away; the man screamed, then kicked his foot up. A knee to the gut drove him back by a foot... for only a second, that was, then he came at him again. One of the man's almond-shaped, silver-colored eyes was sealed shut after one of his fists collided with his face. The eyelid of the other eye dropped halfway after another punch collided with the other side of his face. Sparks flew from the man's body as he started in on the ribs. He devoted just three minutes to the man before turning to finish his primary target. Hazaar hadn't run off like a normal being would. He had either stayed around to watch him beat his uncle to a pulp or, quite possibly, he was forced to stay around. His muscles might be too tired to be put to use or he might have some sort of pre-existing or just-made injury that caused limited mobility; whatever the reason, he was allowed to finish him off now. There was nothing, or nobody, around to prevent him from doing what he—

"Pop!" Amadh Ubalki screamed. He yanked himself around. His temporary target had a communicator in his hand; he was using it to bring another party into the fray of what was going on. There was a slim margin of space—five feet—between them; he charged in the man's direction after noticing the instrument that he had in his hand. "Pop! Pop! Come qu—"

"No you don't," the communicator was kicked into a million tiny pieces; Amadh Ubalki's hand was instantly shattered. A kick to the face sent the man sprawling back. He danced over the broken communicator pieces for a second to ensure the item's sure demise then turned his attention back towards Hazaar.

Victory, it tickled the back of one's throat when it was close to being achieved. Over the years, he had learned to enjoy that feeling; it pleased him and, at that very moment, he felt its all too-good embrace. The front of his pants was wet; he was only mildly aware of the erection that he had. The "Secretary of the Press" woman had long since been removed from his company and he had long since grown tired of using her as a means of relieving his sexual frustrations. For the last four months, he had indulged in a practice that his father would greatly frown at: the taking of women from the street simply for sexual means. A potion, that made any and all STDs disappear, was consumed by the woman that he picked to sleep with on the night that he felt a need for sexual stimulation; he'd do his deed then he'd send the woman on her way—as a way to add insult to injury, he refused to pay the women that he took from the street. He was the ruler of the planet; he had a right in refusing to pay out of pocket for anything that he wanted or needed.

Course, if his Daughter-Mate showed up any time soon, he'd drop this age-old habit quick. He wasn't one for cheating; while there was no band around his finger, he was, in a sense, a married man. If he got his hands on Angel, she'd be his target for sexual stimulation, not the whores that roamed the streets of North and South America.

There was a long knife in his back pants pocket. He took it out. His reflection shone on the steel for a minor second before he turned the blade towards the kid, who shivered then took two measly steps back. The kid's limp had gotten worse, he noticed. There were a lot of un-treated injuries on his prey—bruises galore, burn-marks, deep cuts and lacerations, skid marks, and the such. While the leg was the most notable injury on the kid, there was another that his eye was directed towards. There was a protuberance to the kid's right side; it looked like one of the kid's lower ribs was broken. He smiled at the sight of that then lunged forward. The kid yelled, then tried to duck away from him; he grabbed him by the back of his shirt then held the knife up.

"This knife would of been used on your brother last year if not for certain... interferences," he said. He waved the knife in front of the kid's face. The kid shivered from head to foot then turned around; he quickly grabbed him by the arm after his shirt was torn from his body. "His blood will join yours—" the kid continued to struggle; he tried to kick him between the legs then, when he found himself unable to do that, he started pushing him. He yanked the kid around a few times, trying to get one of his existing injuries—the broken rib, mostly—to hurt him just enough to quit struggling. He got quite mad when the kid continued to struggle. "Quit that! Die with dignity, will you?"

"Let me go!" the kid gave him a mighty shove that made him take two steps back. He was shocked over how strong the shove was; the demand had also come out quite strong. The kid was obviously no push-over, he gave him that.

"Hold still!" he yelled. When the kid refused to do so, he slapped him. He threw him around a few times before pushing him against a nearby tree. "Now that you're still... ish, we can end th—"

He slammed into the man who was harming his grandson with such force that all three of them tumbled forward. The knife, that the man was meaning to use on his grandson, was lost... he saw it drop to the riverbank. A swift kick by him sent the knife into the river, which carried it away. The man who was trying to hurt his grandson would _not_ be allowed to retrieve or use it; he'd do all that he could to prevent the weapon from being found and then used.

Like any good father, he knew his children well. Efagti was the more surely, predictable one; he had a good, mature head on his shoulders and he also knew well how to present himself. Phaggo, while not as confident as his older brother, was confident in his own right. He was learning well and, like Efagti, he had a good head on his shoulders. Blaiga acted much like any other girl and she liked just about any old feminine thing that was put on market; she was smart and well-behaved, despite her feminine memes. Qhuakiz acted like a typical toddler; cried when put in time-out, left his toys out and about on the floor, refused to eat certain foods, etc. Defe was a typical girl-child; she was just now taking an interest in farm life. It looked like that hard-working ambition that he, Efagti, Amadh, and Phaggo were showing might be rubbing off on her.

Amadh was the more soft-hearted and comical one of his offspring; while everyone else had a serious approach to life, Amadh preferred to be funny. It was rare to hear or see him act in an urgent manner. Even when a bad storm was coming, or was happening outside, he retained that comical side. He had never heard such urgency before in his son's voice; his second oldest son had meant business when he called him. He and his two younger children were at the edge of the Rhine river at the time of his son's call. He had no more taken his communicator from his pants pocket before the call was cut; that was unnerving! He knew right then and there that something was dreadfully wrong. A quick call to his wife was made; Qhuakiz and Defe were handed over then he teleported to Amadh's last know location.

Finding Amadh half-on his feet was a shock. He went to him immediately. His son's hand looked very badly broken; there were multiple injuries to his face; his ribs were causing him grief; there was a long cut to his left arm and shoulder; and there was something seriously wrong with the ends of his fingers. He had no more gotten to his son before hearing a low-sounding voice that belonged to a being that he knew all too much about. A quick turn of the head had happened; the rest was history.

"Hazaar," Cheshire Ubalki, a thoroughly pissed off man, said with a flourishing growl. "Get out of here! Run! This _won't_ be pretty and I'd prefer for you to _not_ be around _to_ witness _it_."

As of the last eight or so minutes, his birthday was the last thing on his mind. He could care less about turning a whole year older, or about all the cool festivities that were to happen six days from now, or about all the things that he was sure he'd be getting from his family, or about all the warm, fond feelings that he'd feel. He could care less about getting into trouble or being grounded for the rest of the year. The only thing that he wanted was to be away from Master Vile; home, he wanted to be home... with his mother, who would probably flip the roof after hearing the tale of what all he had just gone through.

He and his grandfather stared eye to eye with one another for a small second. The anger, that he saw on the man's face, was shocking; he didn't need to be told that Master Vile was in trouble. Master Vile would probably be pissing blood by the day's end; his grandfather had a lot in store for the man and, like he said, he didn't want to be around to see it. He got to his feet then charged as fast as his injured hip allowed him to charge into the forest that flanked the left side of the river that he went to. He was hoping to do a quick healing session on himself before returning home; take care of most of his injuries with one of his learned healing abilities then blame the rest on some event that was far less extreme than the one that he just went through, that was his intention when he went into the river.

A terrific crash happened behind him not long after he ran into the forest. He heard the sounds of a fight happening; a yell, a groan, a scream, followed by more groans, water splashing, a bunch of incoherent words that he didn't care to know about were said. A temporary silence happened after the incoherent words were spoken. He didn't know how long that silence went on; when the footfalls of someone following him were heard, he started panicking. He had just started running in a zig-zag fashion when a red mass of energy flew past his right side. The mass caused the bark of the tree that it struck to splinter. He ran on; the pain in his hip was horrible, but he had to keep running. Another mass of red flashed by him. A black mass came close to striking his left arm a second later. A sonic ring and a green energy burst flew over his head after the black energy mass went by.

"Where's the shield!" he nearly screamed. He couldn't teleport; he was too injured to do so. It was either rely on his running strength and body to get him out of this mess or stop, drop, and die.

A pink mass, followed by a black ring of energy, flew past his legs. Sweat poured from his body; he was going as fast as he could but he feared that that wasn't fast enough. The footfalls were growing closer now and, if he wasn't hearing things, there were two chasing him. He was quite sure that one of the two following him was Master Vile, the other one he wasn't sure about. Maybe it was one of Master Vile's henchmen? That Nygiti-guy or that other guy, the tall one that had brown fur. While the idea of his grandfather being the second follower was flattering, he didn't fully believe it; his grandfather may be taller than he, and he may be stronger and he may be plenty angry over what was going on, but even he was no match for the likes of Master Vile.

"Shield!"

The scream that came out of him hurt his over-strained lungs; the shield, in all its bright pink beautifulness, showed up suddenly. He charged towards it at the same time that a burst of yellow energy sizzled by him. He had just jumped over a fallen tree when a yell was heard behind him. Seeing as he was so close to the shield—and freedom from this madness!—he chanced a look back. What he saw turned his blood cold; Master Vile was, indeed, chasing him, but the second follower wasn't one of the man's henchmen. Granddad Cheshire was flinging yellow, red, and orange charges and flares at the bigger, taller man's backside.

He was able to piece together some of what happened after he ran off from just that one look over his shoulder. Master Vile's face was a bloody wreck; his grandfather's fists were covered in blood and, from the looks of things, they were both soaping wet. It was like they had fought in the river. His grandfather's face had two bleeding cuts to it; his brown vest was sagging on one side—like it was grabbed and then yanked—, and his shirt was untucked. His grandfather was running and firing at Master Vile's backside; Master Vile was running and firing at him.

It looked like there was another person following them; he didn't know who it was—all he saw was the silhouette. Once he saw what was going on behind him, he turned his head around. He focused on running. A quick measurement told him that he had just a hundred feet to go before reaching the safety of the shield. A hundred feet. That seemed too far to him... He feared that he wouldn't get to it. He feared that he'd be grabbed and then torn into iddy-bitty pieces long before reaching his safe zone. His leg was really causing him grief now; it was slowing him down to a near power-walk and he knew that that wasn't good. His grandfather had said for him run, his brain and hysteria said for him to run, but his body couldn't keep up with that demand. Too much had happened. Too much was taxing him down.

He lowered his head then bulldozed another ten feet before the deciding factor of what he believed was his fate happened. The ground was littered with many above-ground protruding roots. They stuck up all over the place... It looked like each of them had Devil's Horns and little Trip Me signs on them. The root that tripped him was a medium-sized one. It belonged to a tall tree that was quite branchy. He plummeted to the ground, screaming in pain and despair, after his foot got caught up in it. His fall brought an even greater tax to him; a sharp pain ricocheted from the hip that was injured last September after he struck the ground. He cried as he rolled to the side then he groaned as he tried to get to his feet.

"Oooowwww!" he screamed after trying to bear weight on his injured leg.

All sounds ceased being heard at once; he didn't hear Master Vile's increased approach, he didn't hear his grandfather shouting at him to get up, he didn't hear the third person that was following the pair, or the underbrush being trampled on, or the twigs and low-hanging branches being snapped in half. Everything went to silent-mode. The new pain that was coursing up and down his injured leg made everything go mute; he started crawling when he found himself unable to bear any weight on his injured leg.

He grabbed handfuls of dirt and grass and root-matter as he went forward. The veins in his neck stood out as he went along. Fresh sweat dripped from his face and upper body as he went along. He hoped for a miracle. He prayed for his soul and for some help. At the moment, he'd take anything that he could get in the assistance department; his mother, his father, either Granddad Cheshire or Duru... he'd even accept Grampy Shaam or Trobrencus's help! This wasn't how he had wanted his day to go! He had just wanted to build up some muscle after getting his family something hot to eat or drink. His action in leaving the shield, though stupid, was purely innocent. This shouldn't of happened! He should never of left the shield!

"Come'ere!"

His crawl had only just begun when a hand wrapped around his right ankle. The scream that came out of him was loud and drawn-out; the one that had him by the ankle yanked him up from the ground then flung him towards the very tree that owned the root that caused him to be tripped up. He had time to snap his eyes shut before his body slammed against it; his eyes didn't open after the collision. He lost consciousness after being slammed into the trunk of the tree.

"One," Master Vile said between heaving, gasping breaths. "Wah-one m-more should do eh-it."

The fight with Cheshire Ubalki was a monumentally stiff and one-sided one; he had _not_ expected for the man to be so aggressive, and he hadn't expected for him to bounce up so fast after receiving two punches to the gut. The man was very slick on his feet. He had gotten past most of his punches, kicks, and attacks with ease; he hadn't been as nimble or fortunate. A bath in the river, followed by a near drowning, happened soon after the kid ran off. One of Cheshire's tailor-made shoes landed on his throat; his face was under the water for all of thirty seconds before he got free. Cheshire Ubalki had used two Acid attacks on him; the rest of their fight was done with fists and feet. Ubalki Senior was a very strong man, and he had a good damn punch to him; his nose was broken, his cheeks and chin were cut all to hell, he was lacking a shoe, his thumbnail was split down the middle, and he wasn't able to see out of one of his eyes.

He had managed to go after the kid after dishing a punch to Cheshire's stomach; rings of blue acid had struck his backside soon after he started in the direction that the kid had gone in. That one punch hadn't fazed his new opponent. At best, it only stunned him. Another punch to the gut was given; that one kept the guy back for ten seconds. He decided to just pursue his primary target after that second punch was delivered.

As he saw it, the thing that he was trying to achieve for the last twelve minutes was done. The kid was at his feet. He had him by the ankle and, if he was seeing things correctly, he was unconscious. He was as savage as could be after grabbing the kid up from the ground; the task of hoisting the kid up, then throwing him at the tree, wasn't an easy one. He was tired. A lot was taken out of him in the last twelve minutes. He chased and then fought with the kid, then he fought Amadh Ubalki, another round of chasing and then fighting the kid had happened, then Cheshire Ubalki had come in... A lot had happened in the last twelve minutes; he had paid dearly for all of it.

He could do a number of things now. Grab and then twist the part of the kid's chest where the heart was... get the heart all stressed out before ripping it out from the body that it worked to keep alive. Grab and then twist the kid's head around, effectively breaking his neck. Stomp on the kid's head; make all of his brains spew out on the gro—

"No!"

Hold that thought; he turned right when the two bodies struck him. Cheshire's roar echoed in his ears, while Amadh's fingers clawed at his face and neck as they bounced from the tree that he slammed the kid into. His hand fell from the kid's ankle almost at once; the kid was dragged along for two or three feet as he and his two attackers rolled along on the ground before coming to a stop near a complex of roots. A loud yell came from him after a sharp rock jabbed him in the side; the two Ubalki men started pummeling his face and upper body together after their rolling action stopped. He twisted and turned his head every which way; the punches that one of the men were throwing at him were Acid-laced—his face burned with each punch that landed on him! After two seconds of abuse, he threw his arms up. The two that were on him were thrown from his body; he got to his knees slowly... a bit too slowly. If he was a little faster, he would of been able to dodge the kick that sent him flying through the air; it felt like he was kicked by two persons at once. His air was automatically yanked from his body; he started gasping soon after striking an old chainlink fence that was rotting into the ground.

"I hope you choke on the air that you're sucking in!" Cheshire Ubalki spat. He waited just a second more before turning to go to his son's side. Amadh was with Hazaar now; he was checking for a pulse. "Anything?"

"Angel's words on these kids being of the Strong Elite must be true," Amadh replied, his voice was strained and pain-filled. "He's alive."

"Let's get him out of here then."

Cheshire Ubalki, who had just gone through the longest three minutes of his life, helped his son pick Hazaar up from the ground. They had no sooner had the youngster in their arms before a nearly inaudible mumble was heard. Hazaar shook his head, then held his hands up in a warding-off manner, before falling back into the void of unconsciousness; the two men took that as a sign that they should hurry in getting out of the area. They knew that Hazaar was injured, and they also knew that he'd not last another struggle with Master Vile—they, too, were tired! Their bodies ached and they both felt like throwing up. When they teleported, they made sure that the man that was trying to harm their own saw them.

Before they disappeared from the area, Cheshire pulled his head and upper body back. While the loogie that was hawked in the man's direction missed its target by more than a mile, it had the desired effect. Cheshire was disgusted with the events that had just happened; he made sure to express that with that loogie. Master Vile reacted by simply falling to his side. With the kid now gone, and his duty stolen from him, he was left now with the simple task of getting himself together. A feat that he knew he could do without any problems or interruptions.


	55. Chapter 55

Defe Agazia Ubalki started crying at once after seeing her father, older brother, and Hazaar coming into TazirVile's ship. There were things that she could take—a punishment from her parents; stubbing her toe on her bedside table, or on one of the fence posts that ran along the front of her and her family's residence on Zeta Ren; getting into fights with her siblings; getting a cut or a bruise, etc.—and there were things that she couldn't. The thing that was currently going on in front of her was one of them.

Her daddy, a man that she loved and looked up to greatly, had a most scary look on his face. There were two boo-boo's on his cheek that were bleeding and his knuckles looked just the way they had when he went after the Boworat that was stealing her mommy's chickens five years back. Her daddy was mean on that day, she remembered. He went after that four foot long, sharp-toothed, shell-wearing Boworat with his bare hands; the chicken coop, the area around the chicken coop, the fence that was behind the chicken coop, and a good portion of the dirt behind the fence was destroyed before that pesky critter was cornered and then caught. Her daddy's knuckles were open and bleeding on that day, just like they were now.

She knew of no one else that was so careful or sharp in his/her dress-sense than her daddy. Her daddy's gray formal pants were wet... It looked like he went swimming with his pants, shoes, and socks on. His long sleeve, button down, white shirt was untucked—something very unknown for him; he always tucked his shirt in. His brown suede vest was missing two or three buttons and it was sagging to the side, and his special-made shoes were very badly scuffed up. The chain, that dangled from the left side pocket of her daddy's vest, was broken; that was very unusual—he _always_ made sure to keep that, and his powder-box, safe and neat!

If not for that face, and them almond-shaped, bronze-colored eyes, she'd of wondered who he was. As it was, she barely recognized her older brother, and she had no clue as to who it was that they were carrying into the ship that she and her family had lived in for the last six months.

"Are there any Goblins around?" her daddy yelled. She threw her hands to her cheeks; even his bass-like, droning voice was different! "Homsi! Eldass! Anyone in the ship?"

She turned on the spot then tore down the hallway that she was on. The man that was with her barely recognizable older brother couldn't be her daddy! He had to be an imposer! Everything was wrong on him; the trashy clothes, the broken chain that dangled from the left-side vest pocket, the very badly scuffed up shoes, the voice... She ran, screaming all the way for her mommy. Her blonde hair trailed her the entire way; her large, oval-shaped, light bronze colored eyes wide with shock; her very dark blue skin a shade lighter in her shock... she ran, then she turned right when four Goblins ran into the hallway that the man, her brother, and their unknown carry-on were on.

"Don't need to be told that she'll be having nightmares for weeks," Amadh said after his youngest sister ran off, screaming down the hall.

"Oh shit!" Ulok Gzujus cursed after seeing the unconscious form of his employer's second youngest son. The Goblin checked the youth's pulse quickly before turning to address the other three men that came into the hallway with him. "Get the medical chamber ready! Find Master Tazir, tell him what's going on and where we're at."

"Amadh," Cheshire said. He carefully took Hazaar from his son's arms. "Go. You've done enough for now, go take care of yourself."

"Shouldn't I stick around?" Amadh asked. He followed his father and Ulok as they went towards the ship's medical chamber. "I'm a witness; shouldn't I stick around to give a re—"

"Look after yourself! Tazir and I will get the scoop on what happened at a later time." Cheshire stopped long enough to give his son a shove down the hall that he needed to go down.

In a sense, Ulok didn't need to be told the tale of what happened to the youngster that his employer's stepfather was carrying. It looked like the kid went through hell! He had multiple bruises, burns, and cuts to his face and upper body; he was shirtless; and he was drenched in sweat. One glance at the youngster's hands had given him a hint of what transgressed; Young Master Hazaar's hands were broken and bloody and his knuckles showed the tell-tale signs of fight-induced stress, which made him believe that the youngster was in a fight recently.

He led the boy and the man around two corners then down three halls. When he reached an open doorway, that belonged to the very room that he thought the boy needed to be taken to, he wasted no time in going in or in getting the table that was in the room ready. Cheshire worked on removing the boy's pants, shoes, and socks while he got the table ready; the man had just placed the boy on the table when the very man who was the one responsible for the boy's existence ran into the room. Ulok forced himself to not do a thing; he let his employer examine the boy that was on the table before pressing the button that turned the table on.

"I wasn't told who it was that was brought in..." TazirVile spoke distantly. "It was just... one of my sons, that's what was told to me. That one of my sons was brought in."

"Make sure to get that table to print out every injury noted and treated," Cheshire said to Ulok. "I want every damn injury noted on paper!"

"What happened? The dark-ski—"

"Had no involvement in this case," Cheshire said. He went over to one of the room's counters. He grabbed a wad of gauze then started cleaning his knuckles. "The same one that attacked Lhaklar last year, in November, is responsible." he grabbed a tube of antiseptic and antibacterial solution before going on. "Amadh called me; your nephew was getting ready to deliver the final blow when I got there. He had a kn—"

Renovations had recently happened in the room that they were in; one of the white oak counters, that ran around the room, was replaced with a full-glass one about three years ago. His employer was standing next to that very counter when Cheshire started relaying what he saw after getting to the area where his son had called him from. There was a sudden crashing sound—glass breaking, and then shooting across the floor of the room that they were in—then there was the sound of someone breathing heavily; he and Cheshire looked at the man who caused the counter's demise. A well-rounded fist was slammed on the counter; it generated enough force to destroy the counter that it assaulted. Blood was dripping from his employer's hand; the look, that was worn on the man's face, said it all for them. They didn't bother him for a few seconds. No one spoke or did a thing until he moved from the destroyed counter.

"Do as my stepfather just told you to—get a read-out on any and all injuries that he has. I'm having charges pressed against his attacker and I'll need all the damn proof that I can get my hands on to do that." his employer said two minutes later.

"Yessir," Ulok said.

It took a full fifteen minutes before most of the more superficial injuries on the youngster were healed; when a read-out was printed, he was quick in handing it over. He glanced at the monitor after handing the print-out over to his employer; what he saw took his breath away. Young Master Hazaar hadn't just gone through hell—he _had_ experienced _hell_! The poor kid had sustained some pretty gruesome injuries, most of which were healed.

Medical Chamber 1A Injury Assessment  
Patient: Surfeit, HazaarVile Tlair  
Time: 10:10:34 a.m.

Patient's Age: 1,701 years  
Patient's Height: 5'11"  
Patient's Weight: 179 lbs  
Patient's B. Type: Lean, no fat detected  
Brain Activity Assessment: Normal, nothing abnormal detected  
Lung Health Assessment: Mild bruising noted to left lung; extreme stress noted to both units  
Heart Rate Assessment: Slightly abnormal; stress to lungs is cause for heart rate abnormality  
Physical Defects: None, table could find none on body  
Injury Assessment: Patient sustained severe injuries to back, ribs, chest, stomach, and left leg. Read below for full assessment:

1) Hoof-like marking to lower back, slight tear to the Latissimus dorsi muscle  
2) Burn marks to arms and upper torso  
3) Bruises noted around neck  
4) Palm-length cuts to hands  
5) Injuries to ends of fingers noted; all ten suction cups slit  
6) Burns to chest and stomach; skid-marks noted to upper back and right arm  
7) Lacerations noted to face; lower lip broken, cut above right eye and left cheek, skin of the chin and to the left side of the jaw broken open  
8) Lower rib of left side broken  
9) Cracked left hip; prior injury noted. Former injury noted as being nearly 7-months old  
10) Contusion to liver noted  
11) Laceration to Spleen noted  
12) Left kidney noted as being contused

Injury Healing Assessment: Tear to the Latissimus dorsi repaired; burns marks to the arms and upper torso repaired; palm-length cuts to hands half-repaired; injuries to ends of fingers/suction cups were repaired; burns to chest and stomach repaired; skid-marks to upper back and right arm repaired; all lacerations to patient's face repaired. All internal injuries repaired.

Notes: Injury to left hip was only able to be repaired to way it was before crack occurred; due to the break's severity, the broken lower rib was removed. Bruises to neck were unable to be repaired; hoof-like marking to lower back was unable to be repaired.

"Geez!" Ulok thought after reading all of what was on the monitor.

"He could of killed me son!" TazirVile roared. The paper that he had just gotten through reading was thrown to the floor. Cheshire retrieved it quickly. "Take the domes to the table down, Ulok. I'll take over from here."

Ulok did as he was told. He pressed the button that released the table's glass dome doors then stepped back. His employer went forward after the doors swung down; he picked the youngster up from the table then turned to leave the room. He was just starting down the hall when he stopped; he turned to look at Cheshire, who was now dealing with the two cuts that he had on his face.

"Anyone and everyone involved in what happened with my son is to make a statement. Be as descriptive and truthful as can be." he said before going on down the hall.

"With my son's hands being in the shape that they're in, I'll write my statement then go to Amadh for his." Cheshire said. He then sighed. "Don't suppose this table'd be able to repair nearly burned off suction cups?"

"Honestly, I'm not so sure on that type of injury. Think it'd—" Ulok pointed at the table. "—be able to treat anything else, though."

"Can you wait here for a second?" Cheshire asked. After Ulok nodded his head, he said, "Let me retrieve Amadh."

The next three hours went by at a painfully slow pace. Hazaar was moved to a chamber that was near to his father's own; orders were given that no one but immediate family approved by his sire were allowed entrance to the chamber that he was put in. The ship was put on lock-down right after Hazaar was put in his chamber, then two texts were sent out; KurukVile, naturally, was the recipient of one of them. TazirVile held nothing back. He gave his brother a good piece of his mind and he also gave his brother ample warning about his pressing charges on his son for what he did to Hazaar. TazirVile sent a fax of the injury assessment that was done on his son to his brother as well; KurukVile was floored when he saw the extent of Hazaar's injuries. The two statements that Cheshire made out made the man sick to his stomach a minute to a minute and a half later.

DuruVile was the other recipient of the texts; he was sent all of what KurukVile received. DuruVile, too, was floored when he saw the injury assessment but, unlike KurukVile, he didn't get a sick feeling to his stomach after reviewing the two witness statements. He got real fired up. Real angry. His wife and kids were told to go ShaamVile's ship; it took him nearly two hours to get himself together.

Cheshire took a shower after getting Amadh to the medical chamber's table; the table was only able to heal the less severe injuries on his son. Amadh's severely damaged hands were treated medically then wrapped after he exited the table. Cheshire was quick to schedule his son an appointment with one of Zeta Ren's best-known plastic surgeons; all the medicine in the Universe couldn't numb the pain that his son felt—all of the suction cups that were on Amadh's hands were nearly burned away. Cheshire was quick to announce that he, too, was pressing charges against Master Vile—for the damages done to his son's hands, and for the probable crippling of his son. Ashaklar took care of calming Defe.

Except for TazirVile, no one bothered Hazaar. TazirVile only went into the chamber that his son was in to check him for fevers, and to see if he had regained consciousness. He forgot the number of times that he went in to check on his son; by the time Hazaar woke up, TazirVile was dealing with Eshal, who was trying her best to sway him into letting her see her brother.

"Man, where's a Tylenol when you need it!" he thought after waking.

It took him a little while to remember all of what he went through with Nygiti Meltin, Rourke Ibmhun, and Master Vile; when it came flooding back to him, he realized two things. One, that he was still alive, and two, he was nearly naked. He was in a very nicely, expensively, decorated room wearing nothing more than a pair of blue briefs; he quickly gathered the blue bedding that was on the bed that he was on to cover himself up after realizing this. What if a girl came in? She'd of been able to see the outline of his public hair—the sheets weren't even covering him when he woke up for crying out loud!

There was a French-style, bronze clock, that had a snarling lion and lioness on it, on the brown oak bedside table; he quickly grabbed it then checked the time. It was fifteen minutes past one o'clock—had anyone in his family missed him during the time that he was missing? When the memory of his leaving his communicator at home, in his room, came to him, he cursed; here he was, nearly naked, and with no means to contact his family. He placed the clock back on the table that was beside the bed then slowly stood up. He went to the bathroom, which looked as expensively decorated as the room that he was in, quickly. He left it a few minutes later, after taking in his appearance, and noting the lack of injuries that he had on himself.

"Gotta make a guess on where I am," he said after leaving the bathroom. "the first two guesses don't count; Granddad Cheshire was in the area when Master Vile grabbed me by the ankle, I'm either in my father's ship or I'm on Moas."

He hoped for the former rather than the latter; he doubted if he could teleport. He was quite injured before being retrieved; he might not of been healed enough for teleportation to be able to be done. He paced before the bed twice before stopping; the room that he was in had a light brown, swirl-like, popcorned ceiling and walls. The carpet, that was under his feet, was a dark purple color. A domed light was in the center of the ceiling; there were four, fan-like wall lights on the room's walls; the bed that he found himself lying on was one of them hover-types. No frame existed on the bed; it just hovered on air. There were five, blue-cased pillows on the bed; the bedding was all blue. A bronze-based lamp, that had a white lampshade, was on the brown oak bedside table. It looked very comfortable next to the bronze clock.

The dresser that stood to his immediate right had an indoor table water fountain on it; the crystal ball was slowly revolving as the water flowed around it. The dresser that the water fountain sat on was a mahogany brown color. An aqua fall, wave style, water fountain sat beside the dresser; it wasn't on. He went to the dresser after noticing it; he hoped that someone had a heart in putting something that he could wear in the thing. He couldn't leave the vessel that he was in or go home wearing just underwear—it was cold out; the wind had probably gotten worse. He'd freeze his nuts off it he went out in just plain underwear.

"Nothing," he said. While disappointed, he told himself that that was normal. What was he expecting? A whole wardrobe of stuff for him to put on in the dresser? The people that had him had probably thought of just getting him and his injuries fixed up; clothing him would come only after he made everyone aware that he was awake.

He went to the bronze and black cabinet that was beside the dresser next; he bet Lazeer'd like the boat-style water fountain that sat on the piece of furniture—it looked very old and just up his alley. There was a sort of Yucca plant in a jar next to the boat-style water fountain; he bet his mother would like that. Like with the dresser, he found no clothing items in the cabinet. He closed the cabinet then went to the door; he used his Telekinesis to see who all was behind the door after reaching it. Non-surprisingly, there were two Goblins stationed by the door. One looked familiar while the other he didn't know... or care to know, that was.

"Can't stay here. Mom'll be wondering about me soon—if she hasn't already started to, that is. Gotta get out then get home." he thought.

How was the question. He couldn't just leave the room—he was in his underwear, for one, and there were two Goblins stationed by the door for two. He'd not last a minute outside. He'd be a Popsicle in no time. He couldn't just sit there and wait for someone to come in to check him—he was very worried about his mother; he didn't want her to get anxious or worry about him. He had to get someone's attention, some clothes, then maybe he could sneak his way out or some—

"Can't "sneak" out; knowing your old man, there's a lot of Goblins in the ship. One of them would catch you; there's no go past Go, collect two hundred dollars while your at it, here."

He looked at the bedside table. It was heavy, and the legs were bulky. Maybe he could do something to attract attention to himself. Get his father to come, then put up on an act or something. He went towards the table then, as a way of testing it, and himself, he lifted its left side up. The thing was heavy and, while he was plenty sore, he had his strength back, so he could well try pulling an act. He looked over his shoulder, then grabbed the table; a deep breath, a simple flex of a muscle, then a drop was all it took. Pain shot all throughout his foot, which was purposely placed under the front left leg of the table. He started sniffing at once then, after thinking up a few bad thoughts, the real water works began. He ran at the door then started hitting it after the put-on act was complete; he looked hysterical, he felt like a girl—again—, and he had a plan in motion. Would it work to his advantage or would it flop?

"Oh, thank the Gods!" Abevo sighed after turning to look at the door to the room that he and Exasivoor were guarding.

"Shouldn't one of us get Master Tazir?" Exasivoor asked. He flinched after the door bounced. "Abevo—"

"Homsi, you available, over?" Abevo had since grabbed the hand-held radio that was sheathed on his belt—he, too, had flinched after the door bounced. "I repeat, Homsi, are you av—"

"Must be a new recruit calling me," Homsi's usual, throatish sounding voice came through the radio loud and clear. "because, as all the regulars know, unless I'm on the can, or at home, I'm _always_ available. Who's calling me?"

"Abevo Speelin,"

"You're not a new recruit. You should know better than to ask me if I'm available."

"Master Tazir's son is awake and—" the sound of someone slamming against the door was heard; Abevo took a step towards the door then stopped. "Homsi, get Master Tazir. Young Master Hazaar's awake and he's throwing himself at the door of the chamber that he's in."

Exasivoor Chente, the Goblin who aided ShaamVile in hoisting the dark-skinned man up the tree that he was flogged on, wasn't a relatively new Goblin in his employer's service; he was working for the man for a little over fifty-one years. Despite that length in employship, he didn't much trust him. Exasivoor was a friendly guy, and he was known well for being very open about his sexuality—a thing that he knew all too well of. Exasivoor was gay. He preferred men and, for some odd reason, as of the last year, he was vying for him. He didn't know whether to laugh or roll his eyes; he was a very straight Goblin, yet he had a guy who had interest for only men chasing after him.

Exasivoor was called in as a replacement for Molxax Framavaz; he started in on him not long after arriving and then getting himself settled in his appointed quarters. The following and constant questions he could take, the flirts, and the occasional grab or slap of the ass, he couldn't.

He and Exasivoor stood before the door for thirty seconds before taking their usual stations back. They retained their former stations for ten seconds before leaping forward; the door that they went back to guarding had made a clicking sound after being hit. Their faces wore the very concern that they felt for the boy that was on the other side of the door. Exasivoor went forward after the door went still; he placed one of his ears on the door then stepped back.

"Sounds like he's right hysterical in there," he said. He cringed after the door's hinges clinged; his employer's young son was throwing his body at the door so hard... He feared that the door would give way and soon. "Where's Master Ta—"

"Out of the way," TazirVile barked. He turned his left side pants pocket inside out after digging in it for the keys that were in it, then he quickly started searching for the key that went to the door. Like with Abevo and Exasivoor, he flinched back after the door was slammed into again. "Son?" he said. He placed his hand on the door then careful slid the key into the knob's keyhole. "It's dad, Hazaar. I'm coming in now, stop throwing yourself at the door please. Don't hurt yourself."

The door may of been unlocked by their employer but it wasn't opened by the man. The door was ripped open after the lock was turned; Young Master Hazaar, looking well, despite his ordeal with Master Vile three hours earlier, rushed out right after wrenching the door open. Their employer was thrown clear across the hall by his son, who was a right hysterical mess. He and Exasivoor went towards the pair; they had just reached them when their employer held his hand up. He signaled for them to stop, which they did, then he signaled for them to back off, which they also did.

"Daddy's right here, son." their employer said after they backed off. "No one's going to hurt you ever again, I promise."

"M-Mas-Mas-Master Vile..." the youngster looked around frantically; it was like he was looking for the man to randomly show up. Both Goblins knew that if that had happened, there'd be a fight and a big one going on.

"Nowhere near you," their employer said back. He gently turned his son around then led him back into the room that he ran from. "He'll never be allowed to come near you again."

The next fifteen minutes were calm and peaceful ones; TazirVile got his son something to wear—something from his own wardrobe: a camo t-shirt; brown pants, that were faded on the knees and inner and outer thighs; a pair of brown socks; and a pair of brown shoes, that had light brown laces—, then he gave the order for one of his staff to bring something for his son to eat to the room that they were in. When it came time for him to leave the room, he found himself unable to leave his son behind; Hazaar clung to his side like glue—he refused to let him get a foot from him. While touching, and while he understood the reason for the clinginess, he was slightly annoyed and a tinge suspicious of his son's intentions. TazirVile had Abevo and Exasivoor follow him and his son around for five minutes, then he had Homsi take their place.

Hazaar, now clad in clothes, and having achieved half of his intended plan, waited until the right moment where both men were preoccupied with something else to attempt a sneak-away. It took five long, boring minutes but, when he saw his chance, he took it. A quick check with his Telekinesis told him that he was three hallways and four turns from the front entrance but two hallways and two turns from the back entrance; he picked the back entrance to go out of. He backed slowly from the two men then, when he reached one of the two turns, he started in on part two of his plan. He went down the hallway quickly, then made the second turn; his father and Homsi noticed his absence right when he started down the second hallway.

"Hazaar?"

There was the sound of footfalls coming from the hallway that he had just come down; he hurried along, then slowed up after seeing the latched, heavy steel door that was the rear exit/entrance of the ship that he was in.

"Shit!" he cursed. He'd have to put a lot in on getting the door open. With his muscles still aching and causing him grief, he doubted if he could do that.

"Hazaar!"

Closer now; he could hear the Goblin calling out for him too. Seeing as he had no other option available, he grabbed the latch that was on the door. He yanked it to the side, then down, then, after giving it a good looking-over, he yanked it up. He threw all of his weight against the door right when his father entered the hallway that he was on; the door gave way on just that one throw. He was spilled out into the cold afternoon. He wasted not a second in racing off; dirt and dead grass shot out from under his feet as he tore off towards the far right side of the area where his father's ship was located.

If not for the decision to try out his powers, he'd of been caught after leaving his father's ship. The ground wave that he created was small, but it suited its intended purpose; he was propelled to where some wild bamboo and bushes were before his wave dropped. After his powers were drained, he found himself having to rely on his body and strength to go on. He ran the final twenty feet to the wild bamboo and bushes then quickly hid; his father, Homsi, and another Goblin named Eldass Zultoa stopped before the bush-line before going in to look for him.

"I should of known! I had a feeling that something was up, why the hell did I let him follow me around?" his father chided himself. He had a hard time in not laughing at the man; the mental image of his father spanking and whipping himself while looking for him was just too tantalizing.

"He can't of gone far, sir." Homsi, who was just five feet from him, said. "His powers are low—he's got a while to go before he's able to use them at full-strength."

"He's a smart boy, sir. He didn't use the little powers that he has without a reason—he's tired and sore and he couldn't run long or far." the Goblin who had fluffy, white hair said.

He started along. Going by his way carefully; he crawled for the first thirty or so feet then, when he got to the tree-line, he stood. As luck would play it, his grandfather had just appeared in the area at the time of his standing. The man saw then pointed him out. His father tore off after him; tearing the bushes, and the wild bamboo, as he went along. He ran as fast as he could into the trees; he used the afternoon shadows to his advantage afterwards.

"Tazzy," he heard his grandfather say behind him. "Here, take this."

He imagined his father being given one of either two things: a warm, toasty coat, that'd keep him warm during his pursuit of him, or some sort of disciplinary weapon—a belt or a whip was what came to his mind. His father had used a belt on him once before; he wouldn't hold it against the man to use one on him again. He moved along, paying special attention to his footing and to his surroundings; the last thing that he wanted was to bump into one of his pursuers and the last-last thing that he wanted was to bump into Master Vile, or one of his minions. While he was tempted to teleport, he kept himself from doing so; if he got back to the parked i8 BMW, he could teleport himself and it home. Use up his last energy stores in teleporting himself and the thousand or so pound vehicle that he and his brothers owned. The shield wasn't that far; he just had to get out of the forest that was on the right side of the K3726 motorway, then travel up that road, then go through another short section of forest to get to it.

"Should be healed enough to do a short-distance teleportation." he thought as he went along. "I've eaten a meal, and I was able to use my Elemental powers for a few minutes, a short-distance teleportation should be able to be done."

It took him a good twenty minutes of breeze walking to reach the K3726 motorway; his father and two of the three men that were looking for him remained at his ear for ten of them twenty minutes. They weren't saying a thing now. While unnerving, the quiet around him had made the cold seem even worse, he continued on. Getting home was his main initiative. He wanted to be at the place where his family lived at. He wanted to be near his mother; her comfort, her warmth, her safeness... he wanted all of that. He traveled down the K3726 motorway for all of fifteen minutes before a call behind him turned his already cold blood colder; that call, and one twist of the head, told him that he'd better get to running again.

"Master Tazir!" the Goblin, that he thought's name was Eldass Zultoa, yelled. "Master Tazir! Master Tazir, he's on the road. Going towards the shield!"

The Goblin must of gone back to get a coat—he wasn't wearing one earlier. He felt a trifle bit jealous over the Goblin's vintage gray wool knitted coat; here he was, out and about with no coat or other winter clothes on, and there was the Goblin, who had the appropriate attire on for the weather that was being experienced. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a pair of gray gloves on the Goblin's hands; there was no scarf around the Goblin's neck, but he didn't need to be told that the Goblin was fine without one. The coat and gloves would suit anyone just fine alone in such weather.

The Goblin tore off after him. He ran as fast as he could—which, surprisingly, was quite fast—from him. The shield wasn't that close to him; while he could see it, it wasn't in front of him or close enough to go to at a slower pace. He'd have to go down the K3726 motorway, then threw a small section of forest to get to it; the i8 BMW was close to his area, so he'd not have to worry about using up precious time in finding it. He and the Goblin had a good ten or so feet between them; he was in a good position to not use much strength, speed, or stamina, so he kept himself at the pace that he was going. He continued running in that way for five minutes then, after his father, grandfather, and Homsi showed up, he added more speed. When he reached the bend in the road that marked the halfway point of his run he made a turn. He leaped over the guardrail then he ran into the forest; once again, he used the shadows that the foliage was casting down to mask his presence.

"Hazaar!" his father yelled. "This is not funny, Young Man!"

"Really? I think it's hilarious." he said, after checking to see how close the man was to him, that was.

"You've got a blanket, right?" his grandfather's bass-like, droning voice faltered just a bit. It sounded like he was cold; that made him want to laugh. All of his pursuers had coats on their persons yet one of them was cold. He hoped that the cold would drive them back from their pursuit of him.

"Yes," even Homsi's usual, throaty-sounding voice faltered; he, too, sounded cold. "In my pocket, the Mini Spell was done on it so it'd be easier to carry."

"Once he's caught, I want that thrown on him and quickly." his father said. "It's freezing out here and he has nothing on to keep himself warm."

"Be prepared for him to be a right sick boy after this, Tazzy." his grandfather's voice was now starting to sound distant; he was moving along, picking his footing carefully, and trying his best to keep to the shadows as best he could. As he saw it, he had just a quarter of a mile to a half mile to go before reaching another guardrail, road, and then freedom.

While his father promised to be light on him he highly doubted if he really would; again, if the man was so apt to use a belt on him nearly two years ago then what said he'd use it again. It was that trust thing rearing its ugly head again. He neither knew nor trusted the man that's sperm had made him; while he didn't know or trust any of the people that were pursuing him, his father was the big one among them that he was wary of.

His father had also swatted at him after he experienced a tempered moment; he and Lazeer were exploring some of the old man's place nearly two years ago and Lazeer had gotten them lost. He was pretty agitated on that day. That blasted Temperamental phase had him in its clutches; the inevitable had happened between he and his brother. They had gotten into a fight. While both parents were there to separate them, their father wasn't as understanding as their mother was on what was going on. His father had also swatted at Lhaklar on that day too; he wouldn't be a bit surprised if any of his brothers didn't trust the man that was their father.

The next ten minutes were painful ones for him. While whatever they did to him had helped in getting rid of most of his injuries, he was still stuck with the biggie—his hip still hurt him; while he could bare weight on it, he was still limping and pretty badly too. He limped along, trying his best to move fast, but also trying his best to not succumb to his aches, pains, or to the cold that was now starting to get to him. He could see his breath; it was very cold out... The wind, that was blowing, made the chill have an extra bite to it.

He shivered violently as he went along; the voices behind him had, once again, stopped being heard. Either he had long since left his pursuers behind or they went quiet in an attempt to mask where they were. When he came upon the place where he was nearly made into mince meat by Master Vile, he stopped; he looked around for the items that he was either forced to leave behind or that were ripped from him by one of his attackers. While he found the April edition of Playboy, he wasn't able to find his jacket. He found the remains of the shirt that he was wearing earlier—torn to ribbons; there was no way that he could wear it again, so he left it behind.

This proved to be a right unwise move for him; Homsi Modulavich found and then picked the shirt's remains up. The man was following his light trail for the last five minutes. The man, who was glove-less, and pretty damn cold, pocketed the shirt's remains then continued on his way. Hazaar had just stopped to take a break when he was spotted. The see-through sides of his and his brothers' i8 BMW could be seen through the foliage; he had just ten yards—thirty feet—to go before reaching the shield and freedom. With his being so close to the shield, he figured that a short break could be taken. He came close to leaping out of his drawers when one of Homsi Modulavich's brown hands landed on his arm.

"Master Tazir!" Homsi yelled. He had an iron-clad grip going on, yet he suddenly found himself having trouble in keeping his hold on Hazaar. He started a minor fight in getting the youngster under control. Hazaar was quick to palm-strike the man's nose soon after the fight began. He ran off to the shield with Homsi hot on his heels.

"Homsi!" TazirVile yelled after appearing in the area. "Homsi, where—"

A root caused Homsi to go face down into the dirt; that gave him the chance that he needed to get away. He leaped over the guardrail, then he ran to the shield that stood between him and the forest of the Silberweidenwald Steinmauern nature reserve. A hand landed on his shoulder at the last second; it didn't remain on him for long—once he was through the shield, the one who owned the hand yelled. The shield did its job to perfection in zapping the person back; he ran to the parked i8 BMW as if nothing had happened.

"Hazaar!" he heard his grandfather yell. Traffic was a little heavy; there were a few cars coming down the road that the BMW was parked on. He barely missed being hit by one of them as he went to the parked vehicle.

His jaw dropped after he saw the one vehicle come deathly close to striking his son; if he wasn't so terrified, he'd of given the order for Eldass to go into the shield to retrieve his son. Homsi was slowly picking himself up from the ground; he wasn't available at the moment.

His anger over the situation had steadily grown over the last fifty minutes; while angry at his son, he had full intentions on doing as he said he would. Hazaar'd only be disciplined lightly. Nothing bad. Just a swat on the behind, or a few-day grounding. Hazaar would apologize for the palm-punch that he just dished out to Homsi and, of course, for the little run that he, his stepfather, Homsi, and Eldass had done as well; nothing major in the discipline department would happen, just the small stuff. He'd have to tame his son down some after retrieving him; Hazaar was living as a bachelor for over a year now, so he had lost all respect for most everyone of the adult form. A prime example of that disrespect was happening now. He stared in shock as his son tore the door of a parked vehicle open; his jaw dropped after his son got into the vehicle, then started the procedure of what he thought was hot-wiring.

How cute was that! First, he found a pack of unopened cigarettes in his son's pocket, along with a wallet that had around twenty or so cash in it. The other pockets of his son's pants had wielded no big surprises for him; a few sticks of some item called GUM—he had no clue as to what that was and neither did anyone in his staff—, some change—appropriate coinage for the country of where he was—, a pocketknife, a braided stand of hair, and a set of keys. The thought of asking his son what the keys belonged to, or where he got them, had never crossed his mind earlier. Maybe they came from an apartment somewhere; maybe his son was rooming with someone in an apartment and had his own set of keys to gain entrance to that apartment? Like with Lhaklar's wallet, pocketknife, the set of keys, and cigarette case—devoid of cigarettes, of course—, he stashed all of the items that he found in his son's pants pockets then went on his way.

"Sir," he blinked his eyes; there was a hand on the cuff of his black, wool overcoat. He looked down then noticed that of the four men that were pursuing his son, only two remained on his side of the shield. Eldass had obviously taken it upon himself to go into the shield; Cheshire went in after the pink wall before them was felled, while Homsi and he had stayed behind. He and Homsi stepped into the shield quickly; they went towards the vehicle that his son was in afterwards.

The keys to his and his brothers' i8 BMW were missing. They were in one of the pockets of the pair of pants that he was wearing earlier; he automatically knew that they were in his father's ship somewhere. Since he couldn't go back to get them, he started the process of wiring the car. The plastic cover, that was on the underside of the steering column, was down; he was working on the wires now, looking for the ones that he wanted to use in re-wiring the car. There were three wire bundles going to the harness connector that had three columns on it. The yellow and green wires that went into the first column were associated with the vehicle's lights, cruise control, and other indicators; the blue and purple wires that went to the second column were associated with the vehicle's windshield wipers and electric windows; and the red and white ones that went to the third column were associated with the vehicle's battery, ignition, and starter. He pulled the third bundle out from the harness connector; two of the wires in the bundle were removed, then stripped of their insulation—about an inch worth was what it took. He remembered Lazeer saying something about only taking an inch from the insulation that covered a wire. He twisted the ends of them two wires, then grabbed the ignition and battery wire; he repeated the process in stripping them of about an inch worth of insulation. The lights of the instruments in the car came on; he knew that he was doing the right thing when he turned the radio on.

He had just stripped the starter and battery wires of about a half inch of insulation when a sound caught his attention.

Tap-thud-suck.

It was a disturbing sound! Something that conjured nasty thoughts and images to his head. He shook his head, then tapped the two wires that he had in his hands; the vehicle's engine caught on the second tap... the disturbing sound was heard again after the car's engine caught. Seeing as he had nothing better to do—besides getting home, of course—, he looked up then started searching for the source of the sound that he kept hearing.

"Shit! The Goblins!" he thought after seeing his father's figure standing beside him, on the outside of the car.

He snapped his finger down on the door locks button then looked down at the wires that he had in his hands. How could he of been so dumb? Instead of taking his sweet time, he should of hurried in getting the car wired up. One of the two Goblins had let his father and grandfather into the shield. All four men were stationed around the vehicle; his grandfather was to his right, while his father was to his left. Homsi was by the vehicle's front left bumper, while the Goblin that he thought was Eldass was by the vehicle's back right bumper.

The tap-thud-suck sound that he heard earlier had come from his old man. The end of the man's finger had produced the tap-thud sound while the suction cup had made the sucking sound. He was trapped... surrounded on all sides by four men. He shivered after realizing his situation then started back on what he needed to do in getting the car re-wired.

"Son!" his father said. The car shook after the man tried the handle. When his father found himself unable to open the door, he lightly punched the window. "Stop that, before you get hurt."

"Come out, Hazaar." his grandfather said. The vehicle shook after he tried to open the front, and then back right passenger, door. "This isn't funny anymore, Hazaar."

"Unlock the doors, son." his father said. Hazaar was quick to note that the Goblins were just stand-by's in this strange event. They neither spoke to him nor tried to get him to unlock the car.

He revved the engine twice—to test it to see if it was really working or not—, then he broke the steering lock that was over the steering wheel. It would of been quite funny to see him speeding along down the street then crash into either a pole or the guardrail now would it? If the steering lock wasn't broken, he'd of had no way to control the wheel... or the car, for that matter. Once those two things were done he looked at Homsi; the Goblin remained where he was... by the vehicle's front left bumper. While he could "bump" the guy away from the car, he didn't feel like plowing into him. One could get seriously hurt by a vehicle; he could of been electrocuted by re-wiring the car and Homsi could be seriously, if not fatally, injured if he drove into him.

He honked the horn then tapped his foot on the gas pedal; while the Goblin didn't jump after being horn-blasted, he _did_ jump after the bumper touched his backside. He turned to look at him. Pure rage spread across his face; there was a lot of shock in the man's large, expressive, blue eyes. He blew the horn at the man then tapped his foot on the gas pedal again. The man waved his arms, but he didn't move out of the way; a loud slapping sound was heard to his left when the front of the car struck the guy's chest—his father was now slapping the driver's side window.

"Hazaar!" the man yelled.

"Break a window!" his grandfather yelled. "Tazzy, break—"

" _You_ break a window! If _I_ broke the window on this side of the vehicle, my son'd be cut by the glass." his father yelled back.

He honked the horn twice more, then inched the vehicle forward; Homsi's rage had since disappeared—distrust and confusion had replaced it. He guessed that he could understand that. If someone was honking their horn at him, then "tapping" the front of their car into his chest, he'd of become enraged, then confused and distrustful, too. He hoped that, for his sake, the man knew that he wasn't out to get or hurt him. He was just out to get away from them.

The people, that were in the cars, that were being driven past, were seeing all of what was going on between him, his father and grandfather, and the two Goblins, but none of them had stopped to see if he needed any help. He was right frustrated about that. His mother had taught him how to keep an eye on both the road and its users; if someone was seen as having troubles on the side of the road, he was to pull over then see if he could help. Why hadn't anyone stopped to help him? He laid his hand flat against the horn after two cars drove past; Homsi shook his head, then took two steps back, but didn't vacate his spot in front of the car. His grandfather had since removed a knife from one of his pants pockets; he was gearing up to use it.

The handle of the knife had just been slammed into the back passenger window when a vehicle started slowing down. The vehicle had just come around the turn; by all appearances, it looked to belong to a patrolman who, hopefully, was on his watch. He closed his eyes, then laid his hand on the horn again, then tapped his foot on the gas pedal. Homsi yelled after the car pushed him back; what happened next was just incredible. The vehicle, which had a grid-like, blue and gray stripe on its sides, pulled to the opposite side of the road. The patrolman that was behind the wheel got out, then started towards them. A fight started at once; the patrolman, obviously one who knew all too well about the aliens that resided in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve, charged at his father. He grabbed, then started punching him. Homsi and Eldass went to his father's aid at once—that gave him the chance that he was waiting for to go forward.

He yelled his thanks as he sped down the road; the patrolman, a fine man of thirty-seven years, who had a new wife and infant son, was sent reeling back by a good, double left-hook a second later.

"You idiot!" TazirVile shouted at the curly, red-haired patrolman, who had a rather pointy chin and glass-like, green eyes. He kicked the man in the side before walking off. "I'd of had him if not for you!"

"In regards to you, he's much better off." the patrolman said as he got to his knees.

"Hom... no, no! Homsi, you stay back. You've had enough for one day. Eldass!" TazirVile's hands were in tight fists; he was furious. Eldass came forward quickly, yet cautioningly.

"Sir,"

"Perform the Memory Block spell on that legless oaf." TazirVile said. He said nothing more for a bit. He let himself calm down. Eldass did as he was told; the patrolman was sent on his way with no recollection of what he just went through. When TazirVile was calmer, he turned to address the three men in his group. "As much as I hate to say it, the day's chase is over, Boys. Time to head back to camp."

"Sir," Homsi said. He dug in his coat pocket for the shirt that he picked up earlier as he went forward. "Why not use the Tracker to find where he went?" he gave the remains of the shirt to his employer. "I think that's what he was wearing earlier. Think he picked it up before going into the shield."

Eldass's face pinched in; the mere mention of the Tracker reminded him of the ordeal that he went through four days earlier. TazirVile quickly shushed the younger Goblin, then took him to the side for a quiet, private conversation.

The Tracker was a relatively new device on market; Trobrencus had recently gotten his hands on one of the devices and, as expected, he had targeted him about it. Trobrencus had gotten his interest on the thing, then had tried to weasel out a deal. His deal? Homsi Modulavich for the device. Trobrencus was a peculiar fellow with odd tastes; he liked insulting and causing pain and grief for his staff and he also liked to spread that disagreeable interest on others' staff. The man was also Bi—he liked both men and women, but he claimed that he preferred women to men. These two interests were highly known to him, which was why, when the deal was made, he said no. Trobrencus was eyeing his Most Trusted Goblin for a while now. He was dishing out his usual brand of insults and abuses to the man, but he kept his... sexual predatorness to himself. The tracker, a hand-held device, that had a blue screen, and a funnel-like slot on its top, was put back in its box. All talk between them had ceased; he was told to leave the man's ship, something that he did with no lip.

The deal was placed on the table a week ago. He let it go for all of three days before bringing it up; Homsi was in the area, so he heard what he and Trobrencus had spoken about. He knew Homsi well; the man hadn't only worked for him for over twenty thousand years but he was a good friend of his. Homsi Modulavich, while acceptive of gay and bi-sexual practices and tendencies, was a very straight man who steered clear of any male-on-male fetishes. He would never of gone through with the deal and he would never of asked him to do as Trobrencus had wanted him to do.

Somehow, word had reached Eldass Zultoa about Trobrencus's deal. Eldass Zultoa was also a very straight man who steered clear of male-on-male fetishes... or, so he thought. The man took him to the side for a talk soon after hearing about Trobrencus's deal. A new deal was made with Trobrencus shortly after that talk—Eldass Zultoa for the Tracker. Trobrencus would have Eldass for twelve hours, while he could have and use the Tracker for a week.

Eldass was quite pained after returning to his ship twelve hours later. Two days of no-work had followed. None of them needed to know what happened between the two men; Eldass's face sported a few bruises—his eyes and left cheek looked horrible!—but he seemed to be taking the bum-ache in stride. Eldass was brave; he owed him a lot for what he did four days ago.

"Homsi, you've been through a lot today." he said after the Goblin said he was going to stay and see-out the affair that they were doing. "I'm sure that you're a bit rattled after being hit by the car that my son was in, you really need to head back to camp."

"I'm quite fine, sir. Bit rattled, yes, but fine." the Goblin replied, strongly, yet politely. "Should I go back to get the device?"

"If you wish to remain and be of assistance, sure." he said. The Goblin left the shield, then teleported. He returned five minutes later with the device; his son had since teleported and then left the vehicle that he hot-wired at the time of his return.

He slid the remains of the red shirt that Homsi had pocketed into the Tracker's funnel top then pressed the button to make the device work. All it took was five minutes; the blades, that were in the device, turned the shirt into small pieces then a liquid flowed over them small pieces. The screen on the device showed a signature for two individuals: his nephew, who was shown as being on the other side of the planet, and his son, who was shown as being eight minutes from where they were.

He told everyone in his group to form a tight ring around him, then get ready for teleporting; answers to his many questions started being answered soon after they finished teleporting to the area where the Tracker said his son was at.


	56. Chapter 56

Their arrival at a house was the first of many surprises that beset them; none of them connected the dots on the house until after the first initial shock was over.

At first glance, the house was nothing special to them. It was a simple, two-story building that was made of red bricks. The roof had dark gray shingles on it; the gutters looked well cared for. The front yard was large; all of the trees that were in the yard—the lone Yoshino Cherry tree, that was in the yard's center, and the two Dogwood trees, that stood to the yard's far right—were leave-less. There was a wooden bench between the two Dogwood trees; smooth, round white stones were around the bases of them two trees. A line of what-looked-to-be bright pink, Dwarf Crepe Myrtle trees flanked the left side of the driveway, which looked newly paved. The right side of the driveway was bare of trees or other yard foliage; a free standing, steel structured carport, that had two cars under it, was at the end of the driveway. The carport was flush against the side of the building.

Cheshire made a bee-line for the vehicle that was re-wired by his son right after their teleportation to the area was complete. As he took in the neighborhood—while not one of them ritzy-ditsy or high-affluent types, it was still a nice one that had good residences in it; he was quite sure that humans of good blood, or that had excellent paying jobs, owned and lived in the neighborhood's houses—his stepfather took in the vehicle.

The first surprise dropped soon after the man stepped up to the vehicle's side.

"Wasn't able to take this in earlier," he said. They turned to look at him. "This is the same vehicle that I plucked Lhaklar from on that night when we were in Munich."

None of them were able to take in the vehicle; seeing as there was nothing better to do, they stepped up then started looking it over.

Cheshire had let him see the memory of what happened between him, Lhaklar, and Bile at the fair that they tracked them and Hazaar to. Cheshire had found Lhaklar lying on the trunk of a vehicle with a girl; Lhaklar was smoking at the time. Cheshire was just too overjoyed in seeing his oldest biological son to worry over the stick that he was smoking. The vehicle had see-through sides, which enabled them to see the dark blue interior; the top had a sunroof on it; and the body was low to the ground. The wheels of the vehicle were normal in size; they had normal rims and hubcaps. The non-transparent parts of the car were a dark blue color. Homsi, as expected, kicked the rear wheel of the vehicle then walked around to where the trunk was. The license plates, that were on the front and back bumpers, read DaBoyz5.

"It's the same damn car," Cheshire insisted.

The next surprise happened not long after that one occurred; Eldass looked the front of the house over well then approached him. What he said blew his mind.

"On the night that Mr. Ubalki just referenced, the MoHunds led us to a house." he said. "This one, sir. They sniffed around this very house for ten minutes."

Indeed they had. His three hunters had led them around the house for ten minutes before taking him, Kuruk, Cheshire, Qeeta, Eldass, and Zshon to a highway—the very one that took them to the fair that his three sons were tracked to. With this being noted and know realized, he gave the house a closer checking. The flowerbeds that ran the length of the front of the house had dead flowers in them; he stepped on the dead stalks then tried to peer into one of the two windows that looked out from the house's front.

"See anything?" Cheshire asked.

"Nope—screen's dark and, I'm guessing here, fiberglass." he replied. He removed himself from the flowerbed then started towards the building's front porch.

"Knocking or entering by force?" Eldass asked.

"Knocking—don't feel like having my head blown off today." he replied. He went up the five steps of the house's red-brick front porch then stopped after reaching the door.

Eldass, Homsi, and Cheshire piled in behind him; he knocked on the door twice before pressing his thumb down on the round hole that he guessed was the residence's doorbell. He and his three companions were forced to wait afterwards.

"Hear you loud and clear, Homsi." he said after Homsi shook his head. The wind was horrible that day; Homsi had given his head a shake after a particularly cold blast struck him.

Normally, she'd be warned of Tazir's presence. Her Mately Pains would rip and then roar through her abdomen. She'd become nearly immobile—not like how she was on the day that he suddenly appeared at Sushi Circle, but pretty damn close to that—and her only thoughts would revolve around the pain that she felt. Luckily for her, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer, that pain was a no-show that day. She had enough on her plate to deal with; her Mately Pains would of been a big nuisance if they showed up like they usually did.

Getting Hazaar's leg of lamb and a bag of potatoes was easy; her workplace had plenty of both. She got both at half-price, thanks to the half-off thing that the building had for its employees. A few bills were paid while she was out and a money order for another knife that her oldest son had an interest in was also mailed out. Bile would get his Coyote Jaw Bone handle knife in the next two weeks; like with the two knives that he got for his birthday, she paid for express or hurried shipping with this knife. Bile had quite a nice collection of weird-handled knives going on; his brothers were getting quite jealous of him. Lazeer had since moved down from his room; he was on the sectional couch, trying to either stave off his illness or watch the tv—one of them old, Jim Varney/Ernest P. Worrell movies was on. He was quite a fan of them movies and, honestly, so was she.

Lhaklar had come in sometime during her absence. He was upstairs, either taking a nap or looking at one of the car catalogs that he got in that day's afternoon mail. With Lhaklar and Lazeer preoccupied, she took some time out to bake a few cookies. The cookie jar was always lacking its stock; with five boys in the house, she was surprised that her homemade cookies lasted five minutes. Her sons would gobble all of the cookies that she baked in no time if she didn't put a limit on how many they could have and if she wasn't forceful in their staying clear of the cookie jar after coming in from their daily outings or before supper. She had just taken a cookie sheet full of chocolate chip cookies from the oven when Hazaar came in.

The door was slammed in and then slammed shut. Her son had tore down the hallway then he came rushing at her. He had quite a tale to tell her; the bruises that he sported around his neck validated his story... so did his terror and anxiety. Her thirdborn son had just started demanding that he be grounded when someone started knocking on the door. She looked at the wall that separated the kitchen/dining room from the living room before turning to look at her son, who couldn't seem to stand still a second.

"Hazie," she said. She placed her hands on his trembling arms then gently pulled him to her. She hugged him then pushed him back. "Calm down, now. You made a mistake; you had a horrible experience, and you paid quite a lot for it. I don't see a reason for you to be punished for it, you've already gone through so much already."

"I could of been killed, momma!" her son was near to tears; she gave him a few pats on the back then went back to making the cookies. "D-don't you care about that, momma? I-I could of been killed by—"

"I care greatly about that, Hazie." she said. She dropped the roll of dough that she had just made then turned to her son. Making cookies could wait; so could whoever it was that was knocking on the door. Her son, one of her precious babies, needed her. "I understand why you're scared. I'll be up all night because of it, worrying about you and steaming because of what that disgrace of a father of mine did to you. While I'm miffed over you leaving the shield I'm proud of you for coming in here and admitting your mistake." she took one of her son's hands in her own, she then smoothed her free hand over his worried brow before going on. "I'm not stupid, Hazaar. I don't need to be told that you didn't leave the shield with ill-intentions in mind. You weren't looking for trouble. You're a good boy. You was either going out to—"

"Exercise, momma. I left the shield to exercise." her son's tough-sounding voice trembled; he was on the brink of tears now.

"And there's nothing wrong in your doing that. That decision and action was innocent; my father's was wrong." her son dropped to his knees; he started crying right then and there. She did the only thing that she could think of doing—she pulled him to her. She held him tightly.

The doorbell had just been rung when she remembered what happened to Lhaklar last year, in early-November; another terrible event—her father had come close to tearing one of her young from her on that day. Like any other hysterical parent who just found out about her young doing something bad, she grounded him for a month. While she was in the right in punishing him, she really should of just had him go to his room, sleep off the major shock from his ordeal, then have him have a talk-it-out with her. While Hazaar was in the wrong in leaving the shield, she couldn't really ground him; not only was his birthday six days away but he was so scared and in desperate need of some maternal care. What kind of mother would she be if she just up and yelled at him for coming home, all hysterical and still so badly injured and sore from his ordeal?

Hazaar was terrified! He didn't need to be punished; he needed someone to talk his ordeal out to.

"P-p-please, momma. Ground me for a w-w-while or something. I don't want to l-l-leave the house or do anything for a while. I want to be n-n-near you. You an-and my brothers. Only you five, momma." her son cried.

"Hazie—"

She smoothed her hand over the top of his head; his ordeal must of been plumb scary. She cursed the man that made her son such an emotional wreck. The bruises that were around his poor neck were dark and bad and he was lacking that one long, braided strand of hair that he had earlier that morning and he was wearing a different set of clothes... Her son had told her everything—from being chased by the "goat-men", to the verbal altercation that he had with one of the "goat-men", to being chased by her father, then to Amadh coming in to help him, then to being chased by her father again, then to Cheshire coming in to help him, then to finding himself in his father's ship, then to all of what happened after he found himself in his father's ship. She didn't need to be given the full details of what happened; just being told the bare basics was enough to draw up a mental picture of what her son had endured. Her heart went out to him, the poor dear thing.

"Momma, please. _Please, momma_." her son begged her. She sighed, then, after a few seconds of doing nothing more than standing by the cookie sheet, that had a single, wet dough-ball on it, consented to his wish.

"Will a week be enough for you?" she asked.

" _Uh-uh!_ A _month_. A _real_ month—no dropping the number of days, momma. I want a month of grounding!" he pleaded.

"A week with extra added on for good measure, then." she said. She began to wonder who it was that was at the door for a second before returning her mind to her hysterical son.

" _A month_ , momma!" he nearly screamed.

"Hazie!" she said. She shushed him then had him stand up. "Of all the things to happen today. You yelling, waking Lhaklar, who's probably upstairs taking a nap, and possibly making your sick, little brother become stressed—" she stopped. She told herself to calm down before speaking again. "You're grounded for a week, with extra added on for good measure—a month, Hazie. You know the score, now. No fun activities—music, driving the BMW, building models, going out with friends or going out to do whatever you do during the daytime, ectera—for a month."

"Great! Thanks momma!" her son jumped up, then planted a kiss on her cheek, then grabbed her up in a hug. "What should I do first, momma? You tell me, I don't want to leave your side. I'm your slave for a month."

"Why don't you answer the door? Whoever's out there is probably frozen, like a Popsicle, now." she suggested. "See who it is, and what they want, then come back here. You're to help me make enough cookies to feed an army before tackling the laundry. After the laundry, you're to head up to "Spring-Clean" that mess of a bedroom of yours."

"Okay!" he ran off like the good soldier that he was; she smiled as he left the kitchen, and then the dining room, then she went back to filling the cookie sheet with balls of cookie dough.

After going through all of what he went through in the last hour, he was glad to both be at home and to finally have a sort of punishment on him that'd keep him both at home and busy for a while. The tears had practically rained down his face all while he sped along down the road that the i8 BMW was parked on. The patrolman that came to his aid was far from his mind; the only thing that he was thinking about was getting home then getting to his mother. The BMW was a wreck on the inside. The wires were still hanging from the underside of the steering wheel; he had yet to fix the wires back to how they were before he re-wired the car. The steering lock was still broken too. His mother knew about the car. He told her everything. His guts were spilled on that issue—and on everything else that he endured in the last hour—and she did as he wanted her to.

He was grounded now. A week, with extra added on for good measure, aka a month's worth of chores and of not leaving the house for anything loomed before him. He embraced that punishment. While he could of asked for a longer punishment he hadn't. A month was enough for him; it'd get him straight and he'd be able to heal from all that he went through that day too.

He went to the bathroom that was on the right side of the hallway where the stairs were. His face was cleaned; he took precious time out to take care of himself in that regard, and to also look at the bruises that were on his neck, before going off to do the first appointed chore that he was given. He wasted no time in unlocking the door when he got to it. The same went with opening it. If he knew who it was that was on the other side of the door, he'd of never unlocked or opened it. He stood with his mouth agape after seeing the four men that stood on the other side of the door; if his bladder was full, he'd of released its contents right then and there.

"Hazaar?" TazirVile said after his son, the one that he just got through chasing and then tracking to that very spot, answered the door.

He was frozen there for all of a second then he was gone; they were left scratching their heads before entering the residence that the youngster was tracked to. They went in politely, slowly, and in this order: TazirVile, Homsi, Cheshire, and then Eldass. Eldass closed the door behind him, then did a quick look around the residence's one foyer—which resembled his own abode's.

A short hallway led off from the small foyer, which was devoid of any photographs or artwork; the carpet that was on the floor was red and it looked to be the dominate color on the residence's first level. The ceiling above was flat and smooth. An arch opened up just two feet from them; it looked like the residence had a few rooms that had a popcorned ceiling to them. The room that opened off the hallway also seemed to have a vaulted ceiling, which was perfectly normal for any type of residence—even his own home had a vaulted ceiling in it.

His employer was standing before the hallway's one long, dark brown cabinet. Framed photographs and two potted plants stood on the cabinet's surface; framed photographs hung on the wall that was above the cabinet. His employer was looking at one of the photographs; he seemed to be very focused on the one photograph that had a right dark individual in it. Eldass was coming forward to see the photograph in full detail when Cheshire took two steps back. The man started slapping the back of his employer's shoulder after them two steps were taken.

"What?" Eldass's employer asked after turning to look at his stepfather.

"Better look at who's in the living room," Cheshire sounded surprised. They filed into the room that he was pointing at slowly.

At first glance, nothing out of the ordinary was seen in the room that they entered.

There was a window, that looked in on the residence's dining room; a red velvet loveseat, that had two textured, red throw pillows on it, was below the window. A round, pedestal table stood to the loveseat's right; it had nothing on its surface. A bamboo and rattan floor lamp—a rather nice piece of furniture—was to the left of the loveseat. A gas-powered fireplace, that had framed photographs on its front, stood in the center of the room; a 39" big screen tv was mounted over it. Flower portraits and more framed photographs decorated the room's walls. To their left stood another round, pedestal table; this one had a 25-inch tall, espresso-brown traditional lamp on its surface—yet another fine piece of furniture. The red, microfiber sectional couch, that was beside the table, that had the lamp on it, had two, red, microsuede, square-shaped pillows on it. The coffee table, that stood before the couch, was one of them rustic types; it had a box of tissues, a glass that had some orange-liquid substance in it, and a remote control on its surface.

Their attentions were automatically drawn to the couch. There was a figure lying on it. A young one that looked quite ill. The youngster was wearing just a pair of brown shorts; his skin was a pale, sickly color. A very light, periwinkle-blue color that threw him and his co-worker off for a second. Like any other ill youngster, this one had a soft-wool blanket on him. One of the microsuede pillows was under his head.

"Lazeer?" their employer said. It clicked on who the youngster was right then and there. He and his co-worker took one step towards the ailing youngster then stopped; Cheshire went to the couch. He sat down then gently picked the head, and then the top half of the ill youngster, up. He placed these parts on his lap; their employer started examining his son after his son was re-positioned.

"He's burning up," their employer, who had just placed his hand over his son's forehead, observed.

"A reaction to infection, Tazzy?" Cheshire sounded right concerned. "He still has the gash on his face... it's not covered up."

"Could be... not sure..." their employer sounded right anxious. "Track Hazaar here, then find Lazeer looking so sickly." the man removed his black wool overcoat then placed it over his son. "Can you three wait here? Let me get Hazaar, I'd like to get them both out of here as fast as possible."

Before the discovery of a right ill Lazeer, he came to the conclusion that the residence belonged to a friend or good Samaritan who just took one of his four missing sons in. His sons didn't have the revenue available for such a residence as this and, as far as he knew, they didn't have the skills to keep such a place as this looking so nice, neat, and tidy. While in the hallway, he took some of the photographs in. He had no more started taking in the photographs before his eye landed on a specific one that had... a younger version of what looked to be the dark-skinned man aka Numbskull with a younger version of Bile in it. He was wondering why Bile was with the guy at a younger age when Cheshire got his attention; why was Bile, his adopted son, with the very guy who caused him and his younger siblings so much grief in the last year?

Bile shouldn't be in any pictures with that man... or boy or whatever he was. His sons should be far from him. They should know better than to go near him or be associated with him and, if that man... or boy or whatever, lived in this residence, they shouldn't be here with him.

He flashed his fist at the photograph after walking into the hallway; the frame's glass cracked and shattered on impact. The destroyed glass made the "man's" crooked, milky-yellow teeth, snub nose, and thin to medium-sized lips look shadowy and uneven. While the flesh of his knuckles was broken and bleeding, he felt no shame over his action; he went in the direction that his secondborn son went in quickly. With Lazeer being so sick, he really needed to collect Hazaar then leave. Lazeer needed care. His facial wound needed tending—again—and he needed medicine that'd help him kick whatever sickness he was battling.

"Hazaar," he said after entering the room that his son went to—it was a dining room, no big surprise there. There was dark cherry vinyl on the floor; the walls of the room were either a blue or a gray color. The ceiling that was in the room, and its connecting kitchen, was flat and that same blue/gray color. A dark brown, rustic oak table stood in the center of the room that he was in; six chairs that came close to matching it were around it. The only other piece of furniture that was in the room was the mahogany china cabinet that had a bowed front; like with the other pieces of furniture that he saw in the house, it was a nice piece of furniture.

The words of 'let's go, son' were on his tongue. He was about to say them when he noticed that the adjoining kitchen had a strange, red glow in it. The kitchen looked appropriately furnished, but there was something very odd with it. Hazaar was near the counter; there was a very scared look on his face. He was about to go to him—calmly, so not to scare him, or cause Lazeer any unneeded stress—when he noticed the woman that was standing beside him. His jaw dropped when he noticed who it was.

"Get her to her bunker,"

She was tall; about five foot, seven inches.

"Get her to her bunker,"

She had a heart-shaped face; the eyes, that looked out from that face, were a most beautiful emerald-green color. The pupils, that were in their centers, were black; there was a single, golden-yellow ring around them.

"Get her to her bunker,"

The skin was smooth and blemish-free; it was a most lovely, honey-color.

"Get her to her bunker,"

The red glow that was in the kitchen was coming from her hair, which was a fiery red color and quite long, but very nicely kept.

"Get her to her bunker," that's what kept clicking away in his mind.

That same, damn passage; had she gotten free from her captive environment? Had she escaped then fled to some friend's residence then met-up with one or more of her offspring? He gave himself a slap in the face before stepping forward; Hazaar jerked then hid behind the woman, who was no normal woman but his very mother.

"Ah-Angel?" he said after finally finding his tongue, which had seemingly become rooted to the bottom of his mouth.

"Tazzy." she said back. She even sounded like his wife! He closed his eyes, then shook his head, before speaking to her again.

"Tazir, need any help in there?" Cheshire asked. He was doing nothing but standing in place; thanks to the window, that was between the dining room and living room, he, Eldass, and Homsi could see him.

"I'm sorry! Momma, I didn't mean to lead them here or let them in!" Hazaar said frantically.

"Master Tazir?" Homsi sounded about ready to come in to help him. He got himself straight then walked out of view of the window.

"Everything's fine, Homsi. I've got things." he said. Hazaar shivered, but remained where he was. Angel moved not an inch from where she was. When he stopped, he was alongside the counter... which had a few cookie sheets full of either rolls of unbaked cookie dough or that had fully-baked cookies on them. "Uh, am I disturbing anything?"

"No, not really." Angel replied.

"Making cookies for the family that lives here as a way to thank them for taking you, Hazaar, and Lazeer in or did they make a request for you to make cookies?" he asked.

"Neither, making cookies for the boys." Angel replied. She then started working on one of the cookie sheets that had unbaked cookie dough on it.

While it was rude of her to resume the making of the cookies that she was baking she had to do something to put her up and about son at ease. Hazaar had come in all pale and speechless after answering the door; it looked like the poor dear was blaming himself for his father being here. While she was shocked over Tazir being here, she wasn't taking any rage out on Hazaar. He hadn't meant to lead him to their abode and he hadn't meant to let him—and whoever else it was that was with him—in the house. It looked like her hope in having the man discover them at a later date wasn't going to happen; she had hoped to have him find them after everyone and everything had settled down and after everyone had started feeling the effects of boredom fatigue from being so far and from being so long away from home. It looked like things were about to move along as a much earlier date for her and her boys.

While she could do the Memory Block spell on the man, and whoever it was that was with him, she decided against it. She didn't want to freak Hazaar out and she didn't want Lazeer to get stressed out. Lhaklar was upstairs too; she didn't want him to start thinking that someone was breaking in or hurting one of his family. Bile and Guyunis were still out; she was glad for this. If Tazir was to meet her adopted son, she had to explain a few things to him before it happened. The last thing that she wanted was for Guyunis to come in then be targeted by someone who's conception of him was wrong.

Hazaar remained at her backside for all of two minutes; he shivered almost uncontrollably for most of them two minutes then, at around the minute and forty-three second mark, he started to calm down. He grabbed the cookie sheet, that had the unbaked cranberry honey spice pinwheel cookies on it, then took it to the oven. She placed the cookie sheet that had the unbaked butter cookies on it nearer the stove then addressed her visitor, who remained stationary and silent all while she was working.

"You're bleeding, Tazzy. You know that?" she asked. The knuckles of his right hand were open and bleeding.

"Huh?" he was temporarily blindsided by her words; he held his hand up, looked at it, then placed it down at his side. The recollection of what happened to it occurred a second later. With the memory of what happened to his hand back in its appropriate slot, he set in on speaking to his wife. "How'd you get away from the bunker that they kept you in?"

"Pardon?" she asked. A confused look settled over her lovely face.

"The bunker... that Ballal-man said something a few months ago about you needing to be gotten back to your bunker." he explained.

"Again, pardon?"

"When you were in that hospital, down south of here, one of the two men that had you said something about you needing to be returned to your bunker." he tried to be as detailed in his description as could be; when she retained that confused look on her face, he got a little heated. "Angel, the humans here have had you held captive. They've kept you from the boys; the boys have been going around, acting and living a bachelor's lifestyle because of that."

"The boys and I have been living under this roof since August of last year, Tazzy." she replied. It was now his turn to be confused.

"How can that be when they've been spotted all throughout this country—and in China, too—with other bachelor males?" he asked.

"When the weather's decent, the boys like to spread out and be adventuresome." she said. She finished filling the cookie sheet that she was working on then placed it near the stove; with that done, she left the counter then started walking past him. She stopped after going past him. "Hazaar, do me a favor and finish this—" she pointed at the three bowls of cookie dough that were on the counter. "—please. Need to check on your brother and speak with your father for a minute."

"Sure," Hazaar, who looked rather comfortable and content where he was, replied.

While Cheshire noticed the odd, red glow that was going on in the kitchen, he didn't notice or even see Angel walking across the kitchen or even hear her as she coaxed Tazir to follow her. He was too preoccupied with his worry over Lazeer to put much notice in on anything else that happened around him. Homsi and Eldass were seated on the loveseat, so they weren't able to see the odd glow that was going on in the room behind them; the two men were dividing their attentions between his youngest grandson and what was being played on the room's big screen tv.

Lazeer was aware of what was going on, but his movements were very restricted. He was just ate up with whatever illness he had; a few minutes ago, when he was reaching for the glass that had the orange-liquid substance in it, he looked and acted so weak and fragile. Homsi was kind enough to get up then walk over to retrieve the glass for him. Lazeer was feverish, his brick-red hair was damp with sweat, and he was experiencing hot/cold flashes. There were four coats on him now; he was still shivering regardless of them.

"Did you hear the one about the three-legged dog that walked into a bar and said, 'I'm lookin' for the guy that shot my paw.' " some long and chisel faced, hooked nosed man, who was wearing a long sleeve, gray shirt, blue vest, and blue jeans, was saying on the tube.

Eldass laughed lightly then went silent; he, Lazeer, and Homsi made no sound. He ran his hand over the shoulder of the boy who's head was resting on his lap. Lazeer turned ever so slightly to look at him then dropped back to his former position. With everyone back to being silent and content again, he went back to his former thoughts on Hazaar.

"That car came extremely close to hitting him. If Hazaar was a tad bit slower, or if that car was an inch to two inches closer, he would of been hit and I'd be lacking a grandson."

The whole thing was crazy; Hazaar should never of run off or evaded capture. They hadn't been out to hurt him; just to catch and then bring him back to camp. Where he should of stayed at in the first place. While he didn't know his grandsons very well anymore—they had grown from being the adorable, lovable little boys that they had once been into strapping young men; like Tazir, he had missed out on so much, and he didn't really know who they were anymore. The running and frolicking in childhood play, the building of Laego or Lyncoluhn log homes and/or towns, and the driving of their elders crazy with their childish activities had long since passed; teenage activities and interests had taken over their lives.

While he was saddened over the loss of being able to be there during his grandsons' childhoods, he was glad to have a chance to be there during their adolescent years. There were still a lot of years ahead of the youngsters before adulthood was reached; he and his family, and Tazir and his family, had time to get to know them as teenagers now. Unlike the Surfeit clan, who, he was quite sure, would be pushy and challenging, he and his family would be placid and understanding towards the boys; for the last year, he did nothing but pray for a sign of change, and for his missing family to be found. It looked like his year-long prayers were about to be paid out. Hazaar and Lazeer were found; he was quite confident that they'd be moved from the residence then back to camp soon. Now the task was for them to find Bile, Lhaklar, and their m—

"He's been sick for all of six days now,"

A rather familiar voice sounded from the hallway; he, Homsi, and Eldass turned towards the area where the voice had come from. Their jaws dropped after the woman, who birthed two of the four offspring that were found in the residence, walked into the room. Tazir followed her much like a shadow; he was quick to notice that Hazaar wasn't with him. If not for Lazeer lying across his lap, he would of shot up from the couch that he was sitting on.

The woman, his stepdaughter-in-law, stopped after entering the room. She took in the room's occupants before going towards her youngest son. Her movements were fine; she looked as healthy as could be, and her walk was very dignified and ladylike. He sat upright after she reached him—a perfectly natural thing to do; while confused, he was delighted with seeing her.

"Angel!" he said in as low of an inside voice as he could muster. Even though the voice that he used was inside-based, it still came out as being elevated.

"Mr. Ubalki," Angel acknowledged him, then went on to checking her son. He turned his attention towards Tazir, who was standing with his back against the room's archway.

"Am I dreaming? Where'd she come from?" he asked his stepson.

"I'm still waiting for the pinch to happen—she was in the kitchen, making cookies." his stepson replied.

"What?" he said in a low whisper—so not to frighten Lazeer, or cause Angel any stress. "Where's Hazaar?"

"In the kitchen, she had him take over the cookie-making." TazirVile replied.

"The what?" he shook his head, then looked down at Lazeer, who seemed a little happier now that his mother was there. "You were saying something about how he's been sick for six days now; it's the infection—from his facial wound—that caused him to get sick, right?"

"No." she replied. "He was a little run-down after cleaning his room nine days ago; that, coupled with his going out in-appropriately dressed for the weather—to play in the snow—, caused him to get sick."

"From what she's told me, she and some of the boys have been living under this roof since August of last year." TazirVile said. They—he, Homsi, and Eldass—looked at him before turning to look at the woman, who was now pulling the soft-wool blanket and winter coats up, closer to her son's chin.

"All of them, Tazzy. It's not just me, Hazaar, and Lazeer living under this roof." Angel corrected TazirVile calmly.

The ghost of what they wanted to say was on their lips; the reason for why Hazaar ran off, and for why he evaded capture, was answered at the drop of a dime. Hazaar wasn't running from them for no reason. He was trying to go home, where his mother and baby brother were. While none of them said it, they didn't believe that all of the boys lived at the residence. They had only seen Hazaar and Lazeer at the residence; Bile and Lhaklar hadn't been seen.

Angel finished her checking of her son then stood; she went over to where TazirVile stood then stopped. Eldass had pretty much become a statue, while Homsi was a right figgity thing; Cheshire sat on the sectional couch for a few seconds then slowly, and carefully, got up. He placed Lazeer's head on the microsuede pillow, that it had formerly been on, then he went over to where his stepson and stepdaughter-in-law were.

"It's good to see you, Angel." he said, trying to be as pleasant as could be. "We've been wondering what you've been up to—worrying, as well."

"Good to see you fine bunch too," Angel replied. "While there's been a few mishaps here and there, the boys and I have been fine."

"Mishaps?" TazirVile asked.

"How long have you and "the boys" been living under this roof?" Cheshire asked.

"A little over eight months now." Angel replied. She laughed when she saw the astonished looks that fell over the faces of the men that were in the room with her.

"You and the boys have been right under our noses the entire time we've been here?" Cheshire asked. "Tazzy, pinch me or something. I think I'm about to have a nervous breakdown here. We've been going by the idea that the boys have been living a—"

"Bachelor's life; Tazir said something about that while in the kitchen." Angel smiled, then gave her finger a wag. "You folk should really be ashamed of yourselves for thinking that; I'd never leave or abandon my boys much less let them go around living a bachelor's life."

"You came in contact with Vile in the Americas last year then disappeared; we haven't seen hide nor hair of you until them refugees came in in February." TazirVile said.

"Only half-true on half of that." Angel said. "I fought some of his troops then relocated, with my sons, to a different continent. The Americas, after the invasion, were just too dangerous to live in." the woman's voice suddenly changed; got angry and mean. "Seems we made the right decision in moving out from there; my father tried killing Lhaklar last year and Hazaar today. If he were standing here, in this room, with me now, he'd be a very sorry man."

"Understand that fully; if Hazaar wasn't in-need of me today, I'd of rushed over to wherever my nephew was to pay him a little lesson on who not to mess with." TazirVile said softly. "Same with Lhaklar, honey. I don't go with that shit."

Eldass asked the question of where she and "the boys" were prior to their moving into the house that they found them in; Angel's response floored them. It looked like she and the boys had a right fruitful time in living abroad. She claimed that she and the boys lived in Colorado for about four months before moving to Africa—she claimed that it was a forced move; his nephew's army was invading and she and the boys had needed to get out and fast. They resided in Africa for about a month before moving up north to Egypt; another month of residency happened before they moved to Germany. Their primary homes during the first six months of 4100 were caves; they imagined this as a difficult lifestyle for the five of them—while Angel claimed that her sons did a lot of hunting during them six months of living abroad, they doubted if they really had. He had yet to see his sons hunt; he didn't know if they were good hunters or not.

Angel had just explained that they were given help by a friend in getting the house, and in getting most of the main furniture that was in the house, when Hazaar rounded the corner. Homsi and Eldass slid from the loveseat that they were sitting on then came over; Hazaar, who, prior to the two Goblins' approach, looked a little better, not as shocked or as uneasy as before, reverted back to looking terrified. He stopped dead in his tracks. Angel was quick in placing herself between the two Goblins and her son.

"Cookies done, Hazie?" she asked after placing herself between the two Goblins and her son.

"L-last one was just taken from the oven." Hazaar replied. He looked everyone over then moved a little closer to his mother.

"Everything in the cookie jar?" she asked.

"Everything but the last batch. Wanted the last batch to cool down before putting them with the rest."

"Good." Angel said. She looked Homsi and Eldass over then turned to look at her son. "Leave the mess in the kitchen to me; go deal with the laundry before tackling that room of yours."

Hazaar had just started off to do as he was told when a hand landed on his arm. He was stopped, then lightly pulled back to where he was standing. TazirVile automatically started running his hand down the youngster's left leg; Hazaar reacted by slapping his hand away.

"Hazie!" Angel snapped. She flicked her son on the shoulder.

"Still a spunky thing," TazirVile said. Hazaar came in limping heavily; he had only been checking his leg to see if the injury that his medical chamber's table had noted was agitated more. Seeing as Angel was there, he figured that it was time to get an answer on why his son's hip was injured. "Angel, earlier, when our son was in my ship, a medical check-up was done. It showed a near-seven month old injury to his left hip—a crack that's obviously not healed yet. What—"

"Happened last year, in late-September." Angel replied quickly.

"The dark-skinned man?" Cheshire supposed aloud.

"No." Angel replied, again quickly. "From what I was able to gather, Hazaar and Lazeer had a fight. Lazeer pushed his brother hard enough to fall. He fell on a rock hard enough to create some damage to his hip." her voice suddenly changed; went from being normal sounding to despair sounding. "They were in China at the time; I've done all that I can to help him. Any and all attempts of mine to heal his hip have ended in failure. I've tried to keep him from moving around so much but he, being a teenager, and a toughie, refuses to do so."

"That metabolism thing showing itself," TazirVile said. "What were the boys doing in China?"

"Looking for pets—frogs and salamanders, mainly." Angel replied.

"Huh?"

"Homsi, you've been giving my son a right dirty look for the last few minutes. May I ask why?" Angel asked. She was keeping her eye on the Goblin and, from what she saw, she was right concerned that the man meant to have-it-out with her son.

"Homsi?" TazirVile turned to look at the Goblin, who approached him.

"Sir, if I may speak with your son for a second." the Goblin asked, politely, yet seriously.

Before a thing was said, TazirVile knew what was about to happen. Homsi, a Goblin who showed untold amounts of trust towards him, had gone through a lot in the last hour and a half. The event of being hit by the vehicle that Hazaar had hot-wired had obviously struck a deep, inner cord with the man. Tazir guessed that any being would grow angered after meeting the one who struck them with a car; he let the Goblin address his son. While the exchange was made in a polite-serious manner, he could tell that the Goblin was holding a lot of anger back. Hazaar, as expected, hid behind his mother after the Goblin approached him; Angel listened to what the Goblin said then turned to look at her son.

"You hit Homsi with the BMW, Hazaar?" she asked, incredulously.

"N-not full-on, momma." Hazaar replied. "He was in front of the car's front left bumper. He wouldn't move. I tapped him, I didn't run into him."

"A tap is a hit, sir." Homsi said.

"You were in my way," Hazaar said with a slightly elevated voice. "I wanted to get home... I couldn't leave the car to tell you to back away. I'd of been caught and then prevented from getting home if I had."

"When a car's involved, no good excuse exists, sir." Homsi said.

"Give the kid a break, Homsi." Eldass said. Homsi turned to look at him. "While being hit by a car is never a good thing, and while I understand what you're saying, and why you feel a little negative towards him, he didn't mean to hit you to hurt you."

"I bet you'd swallow all of that if he hit you instead of me." Homsi said hotly.

"At first, I would. After finding him here, with his mother and younger sibling, I'd of had a change of heart and mind." Eldass replied.

While she understood the reason for why her son had hit Homsi, she agreed with Homsi that being "tapped" by a car was still a hit. Homsi was a four foot, six inch tall Goblin; he could of been seriously hurt when her son "tapped" him with the car. Seeing as things were a bit strained between her young son and the Goblin, she turned then made the suggestion that Hazaar apologize for hitting the man. Hazaar gave her a long look then stepped forward; he apologized then went quiet. The Goblin mulled the apology over for a few seconds before sighing then shaking his shoulders.

"Guess I can write this one off." the Goblin said. Hazaar held his fist out; Homsi looked at it for a second before holding his own out. Their fist-bump was awkward, but acceptable. "Just a pre-warner, sir." the Goblin said after the fist-bump was done. "The next time, you won't get off that lucky."

"K," Hazaar said. He then started off.

Cheshire lunged at the boy suddenly; if not for Homsi, Angel would of placed herself between the man and the boy. Homsi was fast in moving out of the way, but not fast enough for Angel to get to her son. Cheshire grabbed Hazaar up in a hug. He picked him up then held him for a long time before saying anything. Angel, after seeing that the man meant no harm to her son, sighed at once.

"If I _ever_ hear of you _running_ out _in_ traffic again—" the man said. Hazaar had put in a small struggle before going limp. "—your parents won't have a chance in disciplining you first. You hear me? If you have to run, you do it away from traffic."

"Loud and clear," Hazaar said in a small voice. Cheshire placed him down. The boy ran off almost at once; Angel had to fight herself to not laugh over what had just happened between her son and his grandfather.

"Well then," TazirVile said a few minutes later. "Let's get you, Hazaar, and Lazeer ready for moving."

"Neither I or the boys will be leaving—"

"What's with all the racket down here?"

They were floored when Lhaklar came around the corner! It was hold the floor, dearie; we'll hear the rest of what you have to say after we fuss over the newcomer. It was TazirVile's chance to lunge at one of his children; Lhaklar had no chance to get away, or to even take in all of who was in the room. Once his father had him by the wrist, he was caught with no option of escape. Angel was quick in separating father and son; she kept close to her son, but she didn't send him out of the room. Lhaklar was quick in voicing his anxiety over what was going on.

"What the hell is going on here, mom!"

"Nice choice of words, son." TazirVile said.

"Today's just full of surprises isn't it?" Eldass smiled.

"Mom!" Lhaklar said urgently.

"Calm down, Lhakie." Angel said, she then pulled her son to the side. "Looks like we've been found; treat 'em like any other guest, please."

"Guyunis—" Lhaklar said worriedly.

"He and Bile haven't come home yet," Angel replied. "Let me take care of that issue, okay?"

"Okay," Lhaklar said.

"Pardon me," Cheshire said. He grabbed Lhaklar by the elbow then turned him around. "This'll only take a second."

A repeat of what happened between Hazaar and Cheshire happened; Lhaklar was grabbed up in a hug then, quite surprisingly, he was picked up. Lhaklar held his arms at angles; he was shocked for only a second before reciprocating the man's action. He gave him a few pats on the back before going still. Cheshire said nothing for a few seconds; when he did talk, he used that same stern, no-nonsense, tone of voice that he used with Hazaar.

"You _ever_ run _out_ in the line of fire _again_ and _I_ find out, you best be expecting a hurting bottom end." he placed Lhaklar down. Lhaklar backed away slowly, then turned to look at his mother.

"Go upstairs, Lhakie. I can take care of what's going on down here." Angel said.

"Is there a phone in this place, Mistress?" Eldass asked after Lhaklar turned then left the room.

"Yes,"

"May I use it for a second?"

"Sure."

"Contacting the ship, Mr. Zultoa?" TazirVile asked after the Goblin went to where a red phone, that had a round, hollow base unit, was. The handset, they noticed, was rather thin. Eldass was quick to notice that the phone's buttons were transparent; the numbers and symbols, that were on the buttons, were a fluorescent yellow color. The phone was on a solid oak, two-shelf entertainment center that was to the right of the gas-powered fireplace; a few more framed photographs, and some potted plants, were on either side of the phone.

"Yessir, figured that it was the best thing to do." Eldass replied.

"Good man—I'll contact my brother, father, grandfather, and Trobrencus. They'll be delighted to hear the news that Angel and three of the boys have been found." TazirVile said. He took his cellular from his back pants pocket then looked at his wife. "Might get a bit crowded in here, Angel."

"Having Hazaar do chores as a way to keep him preoccupied or is he under some sort of punishment?" Cheshire asked.

"Both—he came in all upset; he practically demanded that I ground him for a month." Angel replied. TazirVile looked at her sharply. "Don't plan on keeping him to that; he's just to be "grounded" until he's calmed down some."

"I feel like a heel in saying this but I forgot about what day it was. The seventeenth of April—six days before Hazaar's birthday." TazirVile said. He had seen the date on the screen of his cellular phone.

"I expect him to be grounded for only a day or so; he won't be grounded on his birthday." Angel said quickly.

It got very crowded in the house twenty minutes later; while TazirVile apologized for the overcrowding, and for not giving his wife a head's up on further company coming over, he also said that it needed to be done. Everyone in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve was concerned about her and the boys and wanted to see them right away. Homsi left the house only once; he took a portion of the nearby shield-wall down so KurukVile and his wife, DuruVile and his wife, ShaamVile, Ashaklar, QeetaVile, Triskull and Dara Dara, TrobrencusVile and his wife, TrivitVile, and Rubacon and his wife could get in then he led them to the house where a sort of reunion was held. Angel started to worry about Bile and Guyunis after the fourteen people were admitted to her house; while she wasn't so much as worried about where they were, she worried about what was going to happen after they returned home.

Her main worry centered on Guyunis; three of the eighteen people in the residence had fought with the boy recently. She didn't want a fight to happen and she didn't want anyone—Guyunis, especially—to get hurt. She wasn't allowed to let anyone in on her worry and she wasn't allowed to tell anyone about Guyunis; with eighteen people in the house, talking it up and just being plain happy and joyous, she wasn't allowed to do much of anything. She had to keep an eye on the people that were in her home and she also had to keep an eye on her three sons.

Hazaar was sent upstairs, to his room, soon after the fourteen extras came in. He came close to having a nervous breakdown after being thrown from one of his family members to the other; while the order was the same, for him to go up and then start cleaning his room, she knew that he wasn't cleaning his room. Too much had happened. He needed to de-stress himself before tackling his room. Lhaklar, too, was thrown from one family member to the other before being sent upstairs. Lazeer wasn't bothered all that much; DuruVile and Cyla had, for the most part, been nuisances towards him. They insisted that, if he could stand, and walk, he was fine; he could work his illness out of him by resuming normal activities. She laid the law on them quick; they left her son be after she told them to. Cheshire, Ashaklar, Homsi, and Eldass were in the living room with Lazeer; everyone else was either in the dining room or kitchen with her.

"Instead of playing the casual talk game, you should of grabbed each and every member in this household then teleported to camp." DuruVile was saying to TazirVile. "We've been waiting over a year for them to be found, you just took up unnecessary time and headache in playing nice with them."

"Hey," Angel said, DuruVile looked at her then went on.

"Who owns this place?" he asked. "Who let you and the boys use it?"

"I own it." Angel replied.

"Funny, Angel. Really, that's funny. Be real now, you don't have the revenue for a place like this." DuruVile said.

"I am being real."

"Someone has to own the place; bet they'd like it back." Irka said.

"I own... Lhaklar!" Angel called to the ceiling; Lhaklar appeared downstairs a few seconds later. "Bring me the deed to the house—it's in my top dresser drawer."

Lhaklar was gone for only a second; when he returned, he had a green folder, that was quite bulky, with him. He handed it to his mother then went back upstairs. Angel took the deed to the house out then handed it to DuruVile, who read it then looked up at her sharply.

"Paid in full?" his deep, booming voice had a surprised undertone to it. "Two hundred and fifty thousand... what's that symbol in front of the number?"

"Euro," she said.

"Where'd you come by that?" he asked. "Rob a bank or something?"

"A friend actually bought it for us," Angel answered. DuruVile looked at the ceiling then sat down at the dining room table. "He bought the house, one of the cars, and most of the furnishing that's in here."

"Who's the overly generous bastard that did that?" TrobrencusVile asked.

"The purchaser on this deed is said to be one named Stefan Alrich Leinart," DuruVile slid the deed across the table; TrobrencusVile took it, then looked it over, before handing it over to KurukVile who, in turn, handed it over to ShaamVile.

"The same guy that issued that threat to us a month ago?" ShaamVile said. He gave the deed back to Angel, who slid it back in with the other forms that were in the folder.

"The same guy that I've had on-watch for the last month? The president of this country?" TazirVile gave his wife a stern look. Angel noticed it then ignored it.

"Didn't know you had him watched; yes, the very one." Angel replied.

"I'm a bit concerned that you and this man had a thing together, Angel." TazirVile said. "Men don't just throw money away like that without a good, plausible, reason."

"He's a friend, Tazzy." Angel said quickly, defensively.

"Still the same." TazirVile said.

"Mistress," Eldass said. He came into the dining room slowly.

"Yes?" Angel said.

"Pardon my asking but is there a bathroom that I can use here?"

"Yes," Angel said. "You don't need or have to ask; it's down that hall—" she pointed at the hall that the stairs were on. "—the door on the left is the one you're looking for."

"Thank you," Eldass said. He then went off to find the room that he had just been given directions to.

If they knew about the eighteen guests that were causing their mother and siblings grief, they'd of steered clear of home. Both of them had their communicators but no warning calls had come through; their communicators were just as dead as the rats that they saw at the dump. Since no calls came through to warn them about the people that were causing their family grief, they went on in their shopping for Hazaar and in their browsing of Durmersheim's dump. He wasn't sure if he was going to get Hazaar anything else for his birthday. The remote-controlled Wildcat was a big gift; Hazaar'd be tickled pink after receiving it. He got Hazaar a birthday card but nothing else. Guyunis, on the other hand, had gotten three video games: Galaxy on Fire 1 and 2—a space trading and combat simulation game; both were for the Super Dendy game system—, and Spaceship Fleet—yet another combat simulation game for the same game system. Since the three games were purchased at the flea market and were used, Guyunis had gotten them cheap. €10 a-piece.

Naturally, no cash was spent during the trip to the dump. Guyunis came upon a Coiled Snake Sword, which they haggled over. A serrated, shark tooth necklace, and a set of snake-designed, Japanese Samurai sword/katana copper fittings, were swapped for the sword. They went their separate ways after swapping the three items; no further swappings happened afterwards.

A serpent dragon katana, with a golden dragon guard, was found by him shortly after the separation. The thing was so cool... he couldn't wait to show it to his mother and younger siblings. The sword had a Kogatana blade, or small utility knife, and a brass-finish, Kogai—a spike-like thing that, back in the day, when Samurai use to walk the planet, use to be used for hair arrangement. He also came by some micro fleece blankets, a knitting kit that had all the fixings, and a bronze sculpture that had four, green tree frogs on it. Guyunis had come upon some weights, a brown-colored, Crocheted and beaded purse, and a pair of old, distressed, bronze-leather army boots. With pickings being slim at Durmersheim's one dump, they decided to go off to have a light lunch of fries and chicken tenders before going off to see what Angus and Aubin were doing. A few minutes were spent with them before the decision was made to go home; a light lunch was enough to hold them over, but it wasn't enough to keep their stomachs from annoying them.

Except for the serpent dragon katana, all of their dump-discoveries were sent home some time ago; when they appeared in their front yard, he had the sword in one of his hands.

"I can imagine the look on their faces when they see this." Bile said as they started for the door. He held the sword up. "Ma will flip and the bros will shit themselves."

"No-k-t Lhaklar. He'll look at it then say something-k on how you shouldn-k-t be getting anymore knives." Guyunis said back.

"He'll flip then he'll say something around that area, yes." Bile said back. "He's an oddie but a goodie."

They went up the stairs then stopped after reaching the door; Bile dug the keys from his pocket then slid them into the appropriate slot. He couldn't of asked for a better day than this. No fights, no problems weighing him down, just hang-out with Guyunis and have a good time. He wasn't fazed by the wind's chill or the temperature at all; he and Guyunis had taken the weather in stride. Neither had complained or decided to call it a day because of it. If he was told about what was going on inside the house, he'd of turned, grabbed Guyunis, then gone to some other place until everything calmed down. Since he didn't know what was going on in the house, he went in like normal. Guyunis followed behind him.

"Ma!" Bile called after entering the house. He took his black leather jacket off then hooked it over his shoulder. Guyunis took the black leather jacket, that had the chains on it, off then did the same as his brother had in slinging it over his shoulder. The house had an eerie quiet to it that they both noticed; at first, they figured that it was so quiet because of Lazeer. Their youngest brother _was_ quite sick and their mother _did_ want things to be quiet and smooth for him. The quiet that was in the house had a heavy feeling to it that they felt at once; the tense-feeling that was in the air was also noticed by them.

They took two steps down the hallway that came off the front door before stopping; their eyes nearly popped out of their faces when the light blue-skinned Goblin, that had fluffy, white hair, walked around the corner. The Goblin's light blue eyes went wide when he saw them; he started yelling right after seeing them.

Bile forgot about the sword that he had in his hand; he threw himself between the Goblin and Guyunis quickly.

" _Master Tazir!_ "Eldass's yell echoed all throughout the house; the scraping of chairs and the pitter-patter of many footsteps was heard. Before Bile and Guyunis knew it, there was a line of people filing out from the dining room. Angel tried her best to muscle past the many bodies that blocked her path to her sons. Everyone started talking at once.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Cyla demanded to know.

"What's going on here? Why's he here?" TazirVile asked.

"Bile, come away from that dangerous man!" Irka nearly screamed.

"He should be nowhere near the boys!" TrobrencusVile snarled.

A mother's strength sometimes could never be measured. Angel was driven by pure maternal instinct to protect her two pinned sons; she did just about all that she could think of to get to them politely before getting mean. She shoved TrivitVile out of the way, then she barreled past Irka and Cyla, then she snarled at DuruVile when he turned towards her, then, when she saw ShaamVile going towards her sons in a violent manner, she lunged forward.

TrobrencusVile was thrown against his wife; Dara Dara came close to collapsing after being pushed to the side; Eldass was thrown against Homsi and Qeeta; Triskull was nearly made into a pancake after having his father, Rubacon, and Tula thrown into him... when Angel made it past the mass gathering that was standing just before the dining room, she lunged at ShaamVile then did the unthinkable. She grabbed him by the shoulder then, with a mighty heave, threw him against the wall. She kept him pinned while maneuvering herself between him, the group that was behind him, and her sons.

"If any of you know what's good for you you'll make a path and now for them to get past." she said after placing herself between the threat to her sons and her sons.

"We'll do no such thing!" Irka said angrily. "That creature needs to turn around then leave; he's done enough damage, we won't have him anywhere near you or your sons."

"Great Gods, Angel!" ShaamVile said. He found himself being quite surprised after finding himself unable to get free of her grip. "I wasn't going after Bile, Lass! I was going for the one behind him—Numbskull."

"You won't be going after anyone in my house." Angel said back.

"Let him go, Girl!" DuruVile spat. "He's already told you to not worry about Bile; he's only after Numbskull."

"This is _my_ house!" Angel yelled at the group. "Like with any other home, _you_ give it _and_ the ones that reside _in_ it respect."

"Hold on, Pubba." DuruVile said, he started coming forward.

"Come a step closer and I'll have your balls hanging from your ears in a heartbeat!" Angel threatened. She released ShaamVile then backed up. She had Bile back Guyunis into one of the hallway's two corners.

"This is ridiculous!" Triskull said.

"Tazzy, come forward will you? Control this wife of yours." TrobrencusVile said. TazirVile started forward; he was sent reeling by a good left-hook a second later.

"Make a path now!" Angel said. She moved past Bile, then took Guyunis, who was rather terrified, by the arm. "Move with me, G. Stay by the wall; I won't let any of them hurt you."

She had Bile flank them as they went along; passage wasn't given. She had to force a path to be made for them to get to the dining room. QeetaVile, Homsi, and Eldass were in the hallway that led to the stairs; they couldn't go that way because of them. A fight nearly happened after Homsi lunged at Guyunis's unprotected side. Bile positioned himself on Guyunis's right to prevent anyone from harming his brother there. TrivitVile was sent reeling with his hand firmly placed over his left eye, Dara Dara was yelled at, TrobrencusVile was shoved when he refused to move to the side; Angel acted particularly nasty towards ShaamVile and DuruVile. The two men followed very close to her backside; she spat, cursed, threatened them with violence, then, when they continued to dog her so closely, she lunged at them. DuruVile dropped to one knee while ShaamVile fell back on his ass. In all, it took her two agonizing minutes to get her two terrified sons to the dining room.

"To the basement now," she said after they reached the room that she was working to take them to.

"Should I stay above and help you dispose—" Bile started to ask.

"No, you go down to the basement with him. Let me deal with them." Angel said.

"Ma!" Bile started to protest.

"Go down to the basement with your brother, Bile." Angel said sternly. She pushed him to get him going then turned to deal with the people that were in her house.

While the injury assessment was low, everyone had gotten the point; TrobrencusVile's right ankle was causing him grief, TazirVile's jaw was starting to bruise, TrivitVile's left eye was starting to swell, Homsi was stepped on, blood was coming from ShaamVile's nose, DuruVile was kicked in the groin, and one of the sleeves of Eldass's black tuxedo jacket was ripped. Ashaklar was standing before the window that was between the dining room and living room; she had a right confused look on her face. Cheshire was the only one of the bunch to do as she had said. Her fury wasn't targeted at him thanks to that; he had no injuries on him.

Lhaklar and Hazaar came down for only a second to see what all the fuss was about; after seeing their mother's angry face, and stance, they shot back up to their rooms. Angel did the spell that made any and all sounds that happened within the house not be heard from the outside then she stood by the counter; she prevented anyone from going past her while addressing the folk that paid her and her family a visit.

"That was very rude, Angel." Irka said. "You know we're not out to hurt your sons, you shouldn't of done that."

"Your maternal instincts are strong, Lass." ShaamVile said. "Glad to see that, but rather surprising that you'd show them towards that man."

"What happened was right confusing; can you explain why you were acting so protective of Numbskull, please?" Ashaklar asked.

"I wish you'd stop calling him that." Angel said. She had never liked Bile calling Guyunis "Numbskull". The first time that she heard him calling his brother that name, she flipped, then told him to stop it. The name kept being used; it was like a nickname, used by two brothers who were right close to one another. The people in the house made the name sound offensive.

"Whatever his name is, he shouldn't be getting any maternal protection or care from you." TrivitVile said.

"His name's Guyunis," she said. "The reason why I've shown maternal protection and care towards him is very simple: I'm his mother."

A laugh roared through the house. The people in the group that had once barred her from taking her two sons to the dining room laughed as a single unit for all of ten seconds before quieting up; Triskull, she noted, had sighed after she relayed the words of her being Guyunis's mother. Rubacon, on the other hand, had retained a calm, yet serious stance after she spoke of her maternal bond with Guyunis.

She was a right proud mother; with having five boys that were healthy and happy and living life like any other teenager would, how couldn't she be happy or proud? Guyunis had come through so much to become the teenager that he currently was, and her biological children had accepted him with no fuss. No fights on dominance had happened. No pushing Guyunis to the side or treating him like scum because he wasn't "of brother-relation" had happened. Her sons were mature, polite, and kind and brotherly towards him. Guyunis was welcomed to the family warmly; he was as much apart of them as they were apart of themselves.

"What's so funny? I see no comedy in what I just said to you folk." she said after the laughter stopped.

"How old is that fellow, Angel? I'm sure that, at his age, he needs no maternal protection or care." Cheshire asked.

"Young." Angel replied. "He's a teenager—one thousand, nine hundred, and one years old."

"Should of known that by the voice-crack that he has." Triskull, who was leaning over the counter bar, said. "I mentioned it some months ago; either no one heard it, or put much thought into it."

"If he's really that old then yes, I see where maternal feelings could be expressed with him." KurukVile said. He then turned to address Triskull. "Looks like it's time for you to shape up, Triskull. You've got a teenager to worry over now."

"Please stop," Triskull begged. "If she wants him, she can have him."

"Triskull!" KurukVile snapped.

"That is not what you say when you're facing the shadow of fatherhood," Irka chided.

"That's not something you say period." DuruVile said. "Anyways, it doesn't matter. That... Punk isn't yours. He's Rubacon's. The resemblance is very striking."

"The hell it is!" Rubacon shot. "He looks nothing like me."

A fight started over the paternity of Guyunis; she neither heard nor paid it any mind—when Lazeer suddenly rushed off to the bathroom, all sounds but the ones that he made were heard. While she figured such a fuss would happen over Guyunis's paternity, she hadn't thought that it'd be this intense. Lazeer, her sick son, stayed in the bathroom for two minutes; when he came out, he looked even more haggard in the face. She hoped that he'd head for the living room, where his Ernest P. Worrell movie was being played in, and where his box of tissues and orange juice was. Instead of heading to the living room, he came into the dining room. He shuffled along for a few seconds before coming to a stop; he allowed himself to rest against the wall before calling out to her.

"Ma," his gruff, hoarse-sounding voice was low with sickness; she, and the people in the room, heard him nonetheless.

"If he's well enough to stand and walk to this room then he's well enough to leave this place." DuruVile said after seeing Lazeer.

"Lazeer," TazirVile said. He went to his youngest son then took him by the arm. "Go back to the living room. Lie down, nothing of what's going on in here concerns you."

TazirVile was just starting to escort his son back to the living room when his son suddenly wrenched free of him then staggered forward, towards her. She met him halfway, so he wouldn't have to use up anymore of his energy stores.

"What is it, Lazie?" she asked. When he dropped to one of his knees, she automatically caught and then held him. "Lazeer!"

"Guyunis," Lazeer said weakly. "Please, ma, don't let them take or hurt him."

"Neither will happen, baby." she said. She kissed his forehead then looked up at his father. At first, she was going to ask him to take their son upstairs. To his room. After a few seconds of thinking it over, she decided that he was needed downstairs; how was he going to learn to respect her and how was he going to learn about Guyunis when he wasn't in the room? Her eye landed on Cheshire after this thought was conjured in her brain; of the people in the room, she trusted him the most. "Cheshire,"

"Yes?"

"Can you take Lazeer upstairs please?" she asked. He came forward quickly. She gave him Lazeer when he got to her. "It's the last room on the left."

Cheshire picked Lazeer up then went up to the house's second level slowly, so not to make the youngster queasy and so not to make everyone think that he was hurrying so he could return to view the fighting that was escalating in the dining room. Like with the carpet downstairs, the carpet on the stairs and on the second level was red. There were six doors on the second level; he went down the hall to the one that he was instructed to take the youngster to. He opened the door to the room then, after standing in place for a few seconds, he started searching for a light switch. He stood outside of the room for a few seconds more before going in.

Model planes and skeletal representations of the planet's extinct reptile life hung from the ceiling and hunting trophies decorated the room's walls, floor, and one of the room's two bookcases. Angel had said that her sons had done a lot of hunting during their living abroad last year; this room _did_ seem to validate that tale. Either Lazeer did a lot of hunting or he found a lot of discarded hunting trophies somewhere. He went into the room then he went straight to the bed; Lazeer was tucked under the bed's oak camouflage comforter set and dark green fleece blanket slowly. He sat next to him after the tucking was done.

"So, this is your room." he said after taking the room in fully.

'Uh-huh," Lazeer nodded his head.

"Looks very well maintained." he said.

"Granddad,"

"Mmmm?"

"Don't let them do it."

"Do what?"

"Take G from us." it seemed that all of what was going on downstairs had caused the ill youngster to be stressed; he scowled at the people downstairs before turning to address his grandson.

"Lazeer, if I know your mother as well as I do, she'll put in a gallant fight to keep that young man that's down in the basement with Bile."

He couldn't really promise the youngster anything; the care of the fellow that was in the basement was, at the moment, in the air. While Angel had claimed herself as the fellow's mother he could still be taken from her; if he was determined a threat to the kids that resided in the residence, and if he was sired by one of the two men that were thought to be his father, then he could be removed. Half of him wanted that to happen.

He left the room that his youngest grandson was taken to then he went downstairs; while the fighting over the dark-skinned fellow's paternity had stopped a new one had taken its place. Bile was in the kitchen. The door to what he presumed was the basement was open. A dark hand was on the door and a single, bright-yellow glowing eye was looking out. Angel was with Bile; she was speaking loud enough for everyone to hear her.

"You really are needed in the basement, Bile. Stay with your brother—" she was saying.

"That is _not_ his brother!" DuruVile nearly yelled.

"Keep him company, and try to calm him down some; I know things up here are loud and bad, but don't let them get to you two." she continued saying.

"He doesn't need to be down in the basement with that guy." Irka said.

"Have him go upstairs, Angel. I'd feel a lot better if he was somewhere else than down in the basement with that guy." TrobrencusVile said.

"Think taking him upstairs would be an okay thing to do?" Bile asked. "Might help his nerves, y'know."

"If passage would be allowed I'd say yes but, right now, no." Angel replied.

"Can I take the coats up then?" Bile asked. He had two coats over his arm and a sort of colorful stick in his hand.

"Sure, just come back when you're done." Angel replied. She stopped her son after he started on his way. "If his door's open, close it. It's best for Sabine to not be wandering around."

"K," Bile said.

"Thanks mum." the dark-skinned fellow said from the basement.

"You're welcome, G." Angel said.

Bile was allowed easy passage through the room; he went upstairs quickly, placed the coats, and the "colorful stick", that he had away, before returning. Passage to the kitchen was a little strained, but he was allowed to get to the room, then back to where the dark-skinned man was.

"Really Angel, this is ridiculous." KurukVile said after Bile went back to the basement. "That fellow in the basement's done quite a lot of harm to your sons yet you're allowing him residence here, you're showing maternal feelings towards him, you're calling and referring him as your son—when he's not—and—"

"He is my son." Angel said.

"He is _not_ and I won't hear or accept you calling or referring him as that."

"That's your issue, not mine." Angel said.

"Thought you said no other male had gotten to you, Angel." TazirVile said despairingly. They turned to look at him. "When I had you and the boys on Moas—had you five returned home—you said that you hadn't strayed from me." now he had a hybrid look on his face... a sort of sad/angry look that everyone noticed. "How is that when you claim that... boy as your son?"

"Not mine by birth, Tazir." Angel replied. "He's my adopted son."

"Which brings back the issue of where you found/got him and who his parents are." Bahne said. "Do you know who his parents are?"

"His father's Triskull—" KurukVile started to say.

"Or Rubacon," DuruVile added.

"I know who both of his parents are." Angel replied. Before anyone could say anything, she started yelling at the ceiling. "Lhaklar!"

The sound of footfalls were heard from above, Lhaklar came close to tripping himself up during his descent of the stairs. When Lhaklar reached the dining room, he slowed to a cautious walk.

"Mom?" he said.

"Can you bring me Guyunis's adoption papers, please?" she asked.

"Sure—top drawer of your dresser?"

"Top drawer of my bedside table." she said.

He ran off. He was gone for only a minute; when he returned, he had a brown envelope in his hands that looked to have a lot of paperwork in it. He gave it to his mother then went back upstairs. Angel said a spell that'd make multiple copies of the envelope and its contents; all of what she had was then placed on the counter-bar.

"There's five envelopes here, if you wish to read up on him then take one." she said. They didn't need to know what the alternative of that option was. It was either read the contents in the envelopes or shut up. TazirVile walked up first; he took one of the envelopes then went to the dining room table with it. KurukVile did the same. The other three envelopes were unclaimed.

"It shows here that you adopted that guy in the basement on the first of September, nearly two years ago." TazirVile said a few minutes later. "The adoption was finalized on the twenty-eighth of January... of last year."

"On the day that she and the boys left your place?" Ashaklar looked over her son's shoulder.

"The birth-mother signed a document proclaiming the ones who formerly had the guy as not being in charge of her son; she signed... Guyunis over then gave Angel her blessing in adopting him." KurukVile said.

"You've had him more than once!" TazirVile exclaimed. He was reading Guyunis's adoption history now. "It shows here that you had him when he was three hundred and seventy-three, then at seven hundred and eighty-two, then at eleven hundred years old... you didn't fully adopt him until now, why?"

"There's a note at the bottom, Tazzy." Ashaklar said. She pointed at the note. "Prior to recent adoption, the birth-mother refused to allow Angel Irene to keep her birth-child. Feelings of not wanting a friend to care for a "mistake" were expressed."

"He's got quite an abuse history." KurukVile said. "Except for Angel, everyone on this list is on record for abusing him in one way or another."

"The former name on this record does show a Guyunis," Ashaklar said. They were now reading the final few pages that were in the bundle. "He wasn't named until he reached the age of three hundred and seventy-three?"

"Angel's shown as being the name-giver." TazirVile said. "Name given during his toddler years is the name that he goes by now: GuyunisVile Lytro Surfeit."

"What!" ShaamVile and TrobrencusVile yelled together.

"I'd torch them forms, send him back to whatever orphanage he was found in, then forget about him." DuruVile said. "He's not family. Won't ever be."

"Giving him the family name without consulting us first is wrong, Lass!" ShaamVile exclaimed. "I agree with my son. Torch them damn forms, send that brat to the orphanage that he was found in, then have some sort of spell worked so everyone in this house forgets him. He's not and will never be family."

"Ahem," TazirVile cleared his throat; he gestured for his grandfather to come to him. "Think you need to see this."

"My eyes will never land on that pile of lies." ShaamVile said sourly.

"It's his paternity."

"So what."

"The name of the woman who birthed him rings a small bell in my head," KurukVile said. He, too, was at the parentage or pedigree papers. "The name listed for the father is—" KurukVile's fiery red eyes with the black pupils locked on the figure of ShaamVile; he wore a right shocked look on his face. "Think I agree with my brother on this, you need to see the paternal name that's listed on this form."

He trumped over; in his mind, this madness should of ended a long time ago. Angel should of been retrieved, restrained, then had her memory swiped of the "youth" that was in the basement then the same should of been done with her sons. They should of left the residence long before this wild circus began. The forms that his two grandsons were reading were nothing to him. They meant nothing. They were lies and he'd not hear a thing about regarding them in a serious way. He grabbed the form that KurukVile had in his hand then held it to his face—the idea of burning it, of making it into a big ol' pile of ashes, crossed his mind before he started reading the words that were printed on it.

Name of Child: GuyunisVile Lytro Surfeit  
Time of Birth: ?  
Date of Birth: 27 June 2000  
Mother's Name: Lisa Ann Wahlberg  
Father's Name: ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit  
Mother's Age Upon Birth of Child: 29 Yrs  
Father's Age Upon Birth of Child: 298,112 Yrs

He looked up then, all at once, started laughing. Him? He was listed as the sire of that brat in the basement? That was a hoot! That... Guyunis-kid was not his. He had never sired such a thing in his life and he never would; his offspring had either taken after him, his partner, or were a combination of him and his partner. While the name of the woman—a Lisa Ann Wahlberg—rang serious bells in his head he disregarded her mention. He gave the forms back to KurukVile then walked off.

"You got me, Lass. Good joke there." he said after stopping. "Be serious now, that fellow was sired by either Triskull or Rubacon; I could of never and would never sire such a monstrosity."

"You are his father." Angel said. "I knew who his father was the second I saw him."

"I am not that creature's father." ShaamVile hissed.

"You tortured his mother for all of three weeks. You refused to leave her be." Angel said, she then looked at the group of people that were in her dining room. "Bile and Lhaklar were just babies—a year and nine months and nine months of age—when it happened. We three and an extra were taken to my grandfather's place; the extra with us, Lisa Wahlberg, was targeted relentlessly by him."

"The short-heighted whore with green eyes and black hair?" Homsi asked.

"The scientist." Angel said.

"Your words fall on very deaf ears, Lass." ShaamVile sounded a bit angered.

"I remember her." KurukVile said, after snapping his fingers.

"Think I remember such a girl as living under our roof once," Irka said. "Didn't Angel have her hand-cuffed to her wrist for a while?"

"Yes," KurukVile said. "After Tazir finished his business on Brol, she was relocated. She resided with the maids for a while before—"

"Okay, for the sake of pure argument," ShaamVile nearly yelled. " _I_ do recall such a woman. I did her better than good but—" he held his finger up. "—I used the Utasa spell all during our moments together. No offspring were conceived—she must of had a thing with Triskull or Rubacon during her stay at your place, Kuruk. They were both there at the time."

While that was true, Angel insisted on ShaamVile being the father. Triskull and Rubacon both denied any involvement with Lisa. Guyunis poked his head into the kitchen a few times, to see what was going on, before being pulled back behind the door. Angel grabbed a handful of cookies from the cookie jar then took them to the two boys that, for the last twenty minutes, were stuck in the basement. While her sons took the cookies, they didn't eat them. They were too upset over what was going on upstairs.

Another battle of words was done; it lasted for all of ten minutes before a feminine voice was sounded. At first, everyone thought that it was Ashaklar who had spoken. They turned to look at her before the real owner of the voice spoke again; Dara Dara made a suggestion that none of them could refuse. Her father's personal physician, Enojic Gzolimon, was still in camp; she could go back to camp, retrieve him, then come back. KurukVile nodded his head; he placed the forms, that were in the envelope, that he took, back in their respective place then he placed the envelope on the china cabinet's surface.

"Go get him." KurukVile said. "Have him bring his DNA kit."

"Should I down the shield?" Dara Dara asked.

"No." Angel said.

"There'd be no way for me to get back in." Dara Dara said. "Not to mention, this is Vile's planet. He has a right to do as he wishes—"

"You drop that shield, there'll be trouble." Angel warned. "I have no problem in kicking each and every one of you out of here."

"Leave the shield be, DD." KurukVile said. "While what you say is true—this _is_ Vile's planet—we have no right in helping him in collecting it. He wouldn't appreciate our help anyways."

While tempted to do as she was told not to do, Dara Dara left the shield intact. Homsi went with her after she left the house; he helped her exit the shield then he helped her—and the three men that were with her—get back into the shield. Enojic Gzolimon, an aged Lizaird or lizard-like man, who had scaly, gray skin and very orange, reptile-like eyes, had the DNA kit that he was instructed to bring along; Efagti and Amadh had only come along to see what was up. Dara Dara felt the weights of temptation fall on her after entering the shield with the man that she had gone to retrieve; in her mind and heart, her older brother was still a good man who more than deserved every ounce of respect a being could give. She returned to the house with Homsi, Enojic, Efagti, and Amadh quickly; in all, it took her ten minutes to find and then retrieve Enojic then get back to the house. When she was let in, she found that everyone was quiet.

"Ah, Enojic." KurukVile said after his personal physician entered the dining room. "I see that you followed orders in bringing the kit."

"Yessir," Enojic replied. He bowed then went to place the kit on the table. "I wasn't told anything, just to grab the kit then follow Miss. D; who's the kit's testee?"

"My son—" KurukVile grabbed Triskull by the arm then threw him forward.

"Rubacon." DuruVile pointed at his grandson-in-law.

"A paternity is in dispute. One of these two—" KurukVile looked at ShaamVile, who was currently looking out the dining room's sliding glass patio door. "—is the father of a fellow that's in this residence's basement. We'd like to have the issue cleared up."

"Can the one that's said to be one of these two men's offspring appear?" Enojic asked.

"Angel?" KurukVile said.

Enojic Gzolimon was working for KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit for a long time now. Nearly seventy thousand years; it was a good job, and it paid well, and his employer was a respectable man who only bugged him when medical issues were at hand. When Angel, a woman that he was instantly attracted to, left the room, he began to wonder if something deeper wasn't happening. His employer's grandfather, another man that he depicted as being of the respectable sort, was quiet and off to himself; his employer's father, a man who did tend to throw his weight around, and who also liked to be quite bossy, was eyeing Rubacon sinisterly; and TazirVile, another man that was of the respectable and nice sort, had a blank look on his face.

Up to Guyunis's appearance in the kitchen, Enojic had never doubted his employer's words or actions or suppositions. When Guyunis appeared, Enojic was quick to note that he was young; this fellow, he recalled, was the cause of Young Baruk's facial and mouth-related injuries. His employer was calling him Numbskull for months and he was also calling him Triskull's son.

"No resemblance to Triskull; his body's too big and muscular, his facial features don't match, he has no horns on his head..." he shook his head, then moved the kit to the counter bar. The kit was opened; four unused, sterile medical cotton swabs were removed from their packages then the box that was the DNA device was taken out. He placed all of this on the counter bar's surface then turned to look at the youngster that was slowly being coaxed away from the basement.

"Come on, no one'll hurt you." the woman, who had long, fiery red hair and emerald-green eyes, was saying to the youngster.

"Y-y-you sure?" the youngster, who had a strong, but low, nasally-sounding voice, asked.

"If you want, you can have him wait there." Enojic said to the woman, who turned to look at him. "I'll get the possible paternal samples first then come for the probable offspring samples."

"Thank you," the woman replied.

It was as quick as one, two, three; he used one of the medical swabs to swab the inside of Triskull's mouth then he repeated the process with Rubacon. The two samples were placed in the device then he went towards the youth, who instantly took to standing behind the woman, who he automatically knew was his mother.

"I won't hurt him none," Enojic said, more to the woman than to the youth that stood behind the woman. He showed the two cotton swabs. "Just need to swab the inside of his mouth with these."

"G," the woman said. The youth slowly moved out from behind her. "Stand still, open your mouth, and try to calm down."

"Yesmum," the youth replied.

He swabbed the inside of the youth's mouth quickly then went back to the machine; once the samples were added, he pressed the button then stepped back. It took just five minutes. Two pieces of paper slid out of the machine after the DNA-data that everyone wanted was configured. He took them then stepped away from the machine.

"About damn time!" DuruVile exclaimed.

"Who was the older of the two men tested for paternity?" Enojic asked.

"Me," Rubacon raised his hand.

"I'll start with yours then." he cleared his throat then tore the top-lying paper from the results. "In the case of the youth called "Numbskull'; Rubacon Stoonom Iovides, you are—"

"The father!" DuruVile shouted, then started dancing around the room in a sort of sick celebration that was quite embarrassing.

"I have yet to read the results, sir." Enojic said.

"Let the man read the actual results—not the ones that _you_ want to hear." Ashaklar said.

Tula looked at her husband; it was about to come to an end. The fighting, the disputing, the distrust, the separation, and the complete abandonment of their lives was about to come to an end. Would her husband, a man who she still loved dearly, be found as being the father of the youth that stood behind Angel or would her grandfather be proved to be an asshole, like her husband was telling her he was for the last six months? She closed her eyes; her grandfather had already said that he'd help her in getting a lawyer for the impending divorce that she didn't want to happen. He had also offered to take her and Salasari in until they got past this ordeal then got back on their feet again. Would the lawyer and living with her grandfather happen or would she return home with her husband?

"In the case of the youth called "Numbskull'," the physician said. She clasped her hands together then squeezed. Tight! "Rubacon Stoonom Iovides, you are not the father."

Nothing was said or done for a few seconds. The words of _you are not the father_ were processed slowly; everyone looked at the physician, then at Rubacon, in shock. Rubacon, after ten seconds of silence, sighed then went forward. He asked for, and then was given, the paternity results that the physician had just read. He did exactly as he told Tazir he would do afterwards.

"You see this you pompous, haughty, supercilious bastard?" he grabbed the man's blue cravat tie then yanked it, and the man's top half, down. The paternity results were then rubbed in the man's astonished face. "You cause more than your fair share of grief in the Universe! You conquer worlds, create horror and mayhem, then come home to terrorize your fuckin' family!" DuruVile pushed the man back; Rubacon, nonetheless, continued at him. "I could have you arrested for trying to come between me and my family! You never liked me and you tried to weasel me out by making a lie; you cause more trouble than your own good!"

"Ruby." Tula, who was near to tears, said.

"I find you as much as a foot near my family again..." the threat went unfinished; Rubacon stormed out of the room. He went to the living room then sat down. Tula followed behind him.

"One left," Dara Dara said a few minutes later.

"With Rubacon being shown as not being that fellow's father, think we all know what the results are on that piece of paper." KurukVile sighed.

"I can't imagine who it was that birthed him." Triskull sounded beaten. "I didn't pair-up with any women on this planet; with the shields being up, no one could of come here, given birth, then left afterwards. The kid wouldn't be on the inside of the shields; it'd of died not long after being born."

"Time for you to shape up, son." KurukVile said.

"We'll help you in his raising," Irka said.

"Most of the work has to be done by you, though."

"Read the result to the second test, please." Angel said to Enojic.

Triskull looked down in shame; with Rubacon being out as being the kid's father, he was the next logical one available to be his father. He saw his life—being involved in hunting tournaments, being involved in fishing tournaments, going to bars, hanging out with friends, having a normal-paying job—slipping away from him. If he was shown as being the kid's father, he'd have to drop all of that. It was crack-down highway time; drop all the fun, time to get serious in raising the brat that you illegitimately created. While he was still up for having Angel, his niece, take care of the kid, he knew that his parents wouldn't let that happen; they'd hear the results then set down the rules. Angel was to relinquish the kid. He was to take the kid home. His good life would end... He wished that he had a smoke and a good, stiff drink. Maybe, after it was all said and done with, he'd be allowed them two things.

"In the case of the youth called "Numbskull'," the physician, who sounded a bit too close for comfort, said. "TriskullVile Vuupipii Surfeit, you are not the father."

"What?" KurukVile said after a near-five minute long silence had followed the reading of his son's paternal results. "What did you just say."

"He's not the father," Enojic said. Triskull sighed happily then dropped to his butt.

"Thank. The. Gods." Triskull said again and again. The physician handed his paternity results over to his father then went back to where he was standing.

"If he's not the father..." KurukVile trailed off. He felt numb all over.

"Who is?" Irka asked in a small voice.

"Why don't I suggest something," Angel said. They looked at her. "You all made fools out of Triskull and Rubacon, it's now time for the cards to be flipped. Have each and every one of you tested for paternity."

"Hell no!" ShaamVile snapped. He turned then went to the dining room's table. "If you're going to do that, leave me out of it. I want no more of this madness."

"While the results did show a clear, non-paternal match," the physician said, they turned to look at him. The man swallowed, said nothing for a few seconds, then went on. "There was a sign of relation in one of the two given results."

"Rubacon's?" DuruVile seemed to be clinging to the hope that, somehow, somewhere, the youth did belong to his grandson-in-law.

"No, Triskull's." the physician replied. "There was a ninety-seven percent match; while that does show him as not being the father, it does show that there's a relation somewhere."

"So, in other words, that youth is related to my son." KurukVile asked. His physician nodded his head.

"Test 'em all." Angel said. "All of the Surfeit men but Shaam, that is."

The process was repeated. Guyunis's inner mouth was swabbed a total of five times; he took a seat near the counter after the deed of having his DNA taken was done. KurukVile was a reluctant participant of the procedure; he put it off twice before agreeing to let his physician swab his mouth. DuruVile refused to let the physician swab his mouth for all of two minutes then relented. TrobrencusVile and his son, Trivit, put no fight in on having their mouths swabbed. TazirVile, while insistent on not needing the procedure done to him, went along with having his mouth swabbed after having a few minute long, back and forth conversation with his mother.

Since Homsi and Eldass and Cheshire, Efagti, and Amadh were of no blood-relation to the Surfeit clan, their mouths weren't swabbed. The stood idly by, watching the festivities and thinking their separate thoughts. The physician took each sample to the device then slid it in; it took ten minutes for the device to spit out the results for each test. When the results were done and then retrieved, the physician wasted no time in reading them.

"I'll read from youngest generation on up," the physician said. He tore the top-lying paper from KurukVile's test. "In the case of the youth called "Numbskull"; KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit, you are not the father."

"Oh, thank that Gods." the air rushed out of KurukVile's lungs after he sighed; he was relieved to not be the one responsible for Guyunis's creation.

"You are at ninety-eight percent." Enojic said. "The youth tested isn't only related to your son but also to you."

"Getting a little closer to the source of who made that kid." Cheshire said.

"Next up," the physician said. He gave KurukVile's paternity results over to its testee then he tore the top-lying paper from TazirVile's test. "In the case of the youth called "Numbskull"—"

"Guyunis—please, when reading the tests, can you call him Guyunis instead of Numbskull?" Angel asked.

"Sure," the physician said back. "In the case of the youth called Guyunis; TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, you are not the father."

"As I already knew—you done insulting me, Angel?" TazirVile went towards his wife; while thoroughly confused and a little heart-uneasy, he felt a need to be near her. His desire was granted. Angel stood between him and Guyunis.

"The percentage on your results is the same as my employer's—ninety-eight." the physician said. TazirVile refused the results of the paternity test that was just done on him when it were handed over. The physician placed the results on the counter then held the unopened results for DuruVile's test up.

"Do Trobrencus's first, please." a rather nervous DuruVile said. The physician looked at him then, after a few seconds of doing nothing more than standing motionless, he consented to the man's plea.

"Alrighty then, a little out of order but I don't think it matters." Enojic said. He tore the top-lying paper from TrobrencusVile's test then read it.

Like with Triskull, Rubacon, KurukVile, and TazirVile, the results for TrobrencusVile and his oldest son came back as negative. Neither of them were the father of Guyunis; they were related, though. The physician read a rather confusing percentage of ninety-eight point five percent then handed the tests over to their testees. He then held up the last test.

"Mark my words, Duru: if what's on that piece of paper reads positive—if you're found as being that fool's father—, I'm leaving and taking the kids with me." Cyla said. DuruVile stood stoically, but didn't say anything in return.

"In the case of the youth called Guyunis; DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit—" Enojic stopped reading the results; he looked at the man who's paternal results had yet to be read. The intended purpose for the stall? To generate a melodramatic feeling in the room. He only spoke the results after DuruVile's hard, experienced face drew in a little. "—you are not the father."

"Think a piece of my heart was torn from me with your words, Cyla." DuruVile said, after heaving a sigh of relief.

"Well, what did you expect for me to say?" Cyla asked. "That... boy is younger than Gaajah—the results of that test would of incriminated you of adultery if they came back saying that you was the father."

"True." DuruVile said.

"The results show that you, too, are related to this fellow." Enojic said. "Ninety-nine percent."

"That is an _awfully_ high percentage." TrobrencusVile said after a few minutes of silence had fallen over the room.

"Why's it that high for him?" TrivitVile asked. "We've all been proven as being related to that guy; why's Duru's percentage so—"

"—up there?" Bahne finished for her son.

They turned to look at ShaamVile, who's forehead was resting on his thumb. He was shaking his head; wondering why he continued to remain in the building. After a few minutes of silence, ShaamVile stood up then looked at the people that were in the room; if he was to be a made a fool then he might as well go get his own DNA kit.

He had never trusted the testing of one's DNA through saliva; too many things happened. Too many things conflicted one another—bacteria being one of them. Some long-gone friends of his, who were wondering if the child that they were raising was theirs, had once gone in for a saliva-based paternity test; the test had come back negative. The fights that the results had generated had caused the pair to split up. After a few years of being apart, they went in for another test. This one being blood-based, where a small bit of the parents' and their offsprings' blood would be tested to see if a clear match was found. Blood was pure and, as his friends had suspected all along, the saliva-based test was wrong in telling them that the child that they were wondering and conducting the tests on wasn't theirs.

No bacteria contaminated the samples taken for blood-based DNA tests; while a small degree of pain—a pinch from the needle—was felt, the results were better and more accurate. He had a home-based DNA kit in his ship—he purchased it for just this reason; it had collected a lot of dust over the years, but it was very new and operable.

"Pubba!" his son said after he ran out of the residence.

He ran out of the residence then teleported to where the shield was; a lightning ball took the shield-wall down. He left the shield before it repaired itself then went to his ship. The device, which was in the far back of his ship's cargo area, was found after a three minute search; he went back to the shield then found himself with a problem. He cursed himself for leaving without giving anyone a warning to be on the look-out for his return then grabbed the communicator from his belt. The idea of dropping the blood-based DNA kit, going to his ship, starting his ship up, then driving away came to his mind for a second. He mulled it over for a little while before pressing the button that was on the side of his communicator; why not join the rest in being made a fool of? He was quite sure that he wasn't the father of the brat so he had nothing to fear or to be worried about.

"And it won't matter if anything comes back positive either—I'm not paying out of pocket for any psychologist appointments, or for anything that the kid needs. He's an illegitimate. A nobody. While deserving of love he won't get none from me—and he best be marking the days that he gets it from Angel because she won't be giving him love for long." he thought before pressing the button that was on the side of his communicator. "Duru is my one and only son... he'll continue being that until I find and then get committed to some Lass that I've expressed feelings for."

"Tazir," he said aloud, into his communicator.

"Need a Goblin to help you get to the shield's interior?" his grandson seemed to be hiding a laugh; he scuffed at that silently, then pressed his finger down on the button again.

"Yes."

"Sending Homsi now."

The Goblin showed up then let him in; he neither acknowledged nor thanked him for his assistance. The location of the house, where most of his family was, was locked on; he teleported to it, then went in without knocking. Homsi entered a few seconds later. Once in the residence, he made a bee-line for the dining room; except for Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer, everyone was still in there. Bile had since come up from the basement; he was now between his mother and adoptive father. He placed his own DNA kit on the dining room's table then gestured for Angel to come forward.

"Yes?" she said after telling Bile to stay where he was then coming over to where he was.

"Do you insist on doing this paternity bullshit on me?" he asked.

"In a sense, I do and I don't." she replied. "If you're going to be a baby about it you can—"

"Watch your tongue, Lass." he said. He placed his hand on the device that he brought back from his ship then addressed her about it. "I'd like to use this to do the test on."

To her, it was the most primitive, unsafe thing in the Universe. It resembled an old weight scale; the pump-like thing, that was between the small cups, was bronze and antique-ish. If she wasn't seeing things incorrectly, there was something sharp sticking up from the center of both cups. If ShaamVile was intending to use the device to torture her son, or to cause him to be even more scared than he already was, then he had a problem; Guyunis wouldn't be coming anywhere near the thing if that was the intended purpose. Guyunis and ShaamVile would also have to be deathly close to one another. ShaamVile would be able to flash a hand out or hurt him. She gave the thing, which was also quite dusty, a good looking-over before asking a few more questions on it.

"What is this thing?" she asked.

"It's a DNA tester, Angel. Tests the blood." ShaamVile replied.

"Why's it here? Why couldn't you get the test done on that other kit?" Angel asked.

"That other kit is saliva-based; bacteria could well contaminate the samples that're being checked. This one is far more superior to the one that Kuruk's physician brought in." ShaamVile explained.

"How's the blood taken? I presume that this is the only way that you'll let yourself be tested?"

"Yes, it is." he answered the second question first then went on the demonstrate how the unit was used. "He and I will place the desired finger here—" he pointed at one of the small cups that possessed a sharp needle in their centers. "—blood pools in the cup; a beep will be heard when the cup's full, or when the device detects enough blood for a sample has been taken."

She was tempted to say no on her son going near the device. Too many things could happen. She didn't know if ShaamVile did something to make the device pass off some sort of disease after the blood was pooled and she didn't know if the thing was safe to use either. Technically, Guyunis didn't need to know who his father was and ShaamVile didn't have to go along with being tested; they could go on their ways. Live separate lives. Forget all about one another. ShaamVile could go on saying that he has only one son; he didn't need or have to know about any other offspring that he had out there. The testing could go in-completed; Duru's paternity test had already shown a close-match in DNA—that should be enough to tell everyone who the sire was. Everyone knew that her adopted son was related to them; no one needed or had to know the specifics on how close that relationship was.

ShaamVile had already expressed a wish to use the device that he brought in; he wasn't going to use the device that her grandfather's physician had brought in. She shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably—so much could happen if this device was used to test her son's DNA.

"I'm not so sure I want my son near this thing," she said, voicing her concern. "I don't know anything about it and I don't—"

"You can stand at his shoulder. My DNA's not being tested by any other means." ShaamVile took a seat beside the device, which he started tinkering with.

"Ah..." she looked at Guyunis, then back at ShaamVile. Her comfort levels plummeted to near zero. She began sweating. "I'm not sure I want—"

"Mum," Guyunis said a few minutes later, after another round of silence fell over the room, and after the device was set-up and was ready for use. "I'll do i-k-t if... if you're with me."

He was only being brave for his mum—she went through so much in the last hour and a half; she needed a break and, honestly, so did he. He had spent the last hour and a half in the basement, a place where he was forced to reside in during his former tenures with his former adoption families. He came close to crying twice during the stay down there; Bile was there to keep his head from falling off, but he wasn't able to keep the worry away. The people upstairs, the ones that appeared from out of nowhere, had hurt him once in the past; would they hurt his mum? Would they gang up on her, trample or beat her to near-death, then come for him and Bile? His mum had sure acted nasty earlier; she had made them back off, would she be able to retain that nastiness if they suddenly tried to get past her?

At around the twenty or so minute mark, he got sick of staying down in the basement. He wanted to see what was going on upstairs and he made the decision to do so. Bile came up with him; they peeked at the people then Bile decided to leave the room.

It was chaos times a million; he didn't know who was worse—the men or the women. His older, half-bruder's wife seemed to be quite a bitch with a big mouth; he didn't much like her. The woman that his older, half-bruder's oldest son had married seemed to be right up there with her; he didn't like her either. He still felt terror towards his fader's uncle, Trobrencus; how the guy had come to marry such a lovely woman as Bahne Brotzol was beyond him. She was a beauty while he was a terrifying Zombie. No opinion could be expressed on Cheshire or his wife; they seemed sincere in their concern, but there were times where they, too, had acted out.

As he stepped forward, towards the man who brought the device to his family's home, he began to wonder what would happen if his paternity wasn't confirmed. Would the people demand that his mutter abandon him? Would his name need to be changed? Would he be sent back to the orphanage? He hesitated in going forward after his mum's husband, TazirVile, flinched then he continued on; his mum met him halfway to the device.

"You have nothing to fear," she said to him. "I'll be right at your elbow. If anything happens, I want you to move and fast, okay?"

"I-I hope nothing-k does happen, mum." he said back.

ShaamVile gave Guyunis an explanation on how to use the device then, on the count of three, they pressed their thumbs—their fingers of choice—down on the needles that were in the two cups' centers. Neither of them flinched after the needle penetrated their skin; they looked one another in the eye as their blood was pooled for the test that was soon to be done. While Guyunis's thinker was relatively silent; ShaamVile's was speaking quite a lot.

"There's no way he'll show up on paper as a get of yours; his skin is all one color, not bi-colored like the offspring that you're known to throw. His eyes, while glowing, are all one color. His body build, while resembling your own at the upper-teenage level, is nowhere near yours. The tests done by that physician were wrong; they gave wrong results—the test given by your machine will prove once and for all that all form of saliva-based DNA tests cannot be depended on."

The guy was wearing a wrap of bandaging around his top half; that meant that he still had the lash marks that he gave him a few months ago. He was glad to know that the marks were still there; they'd show to the Universe that he wasn't one to mess with. He was a nice man, a gentleman at times, but, when certain situations happened, or when certain buttons were pressed, he could get right nasty. It looked like most of the other injuries that he inflicted on the guy had healed up; the lash marks would remain. They'd scar up in time.

He was tempted to do the spell that'd keep the guy's finger permanently pressed to the cup; the guy would be forever bonded to the machine, more insult to injury would happen. When the machine beeped, he was surprised that the guy didn't remove his finger right away. He left his finger in the cup; the needle continued to pool the guy's reddish-green blood for all of ten seconds before the finger was removed. He felt a trifle bit threatened when the guy neither accepted the napkin that was handed to him or placed his finger in his mouth; he was never one to spare any thought or concern on small or minor injuries, it looked like "Guyunis" regarded them types of injuries the same way.

"It'll be a few minutes," he said, after the guy kept staring at him.

"G, come on now." Angel practically picked Guyunis up from the chair that he was sitting in. She had him move back to where Bile was then she forced him to take the napkin that she was trying to give to him for the last ten or so seconds.

ShaamVile was as good as his word on the device; except for the little prick, and a little cut being made to his finger, Guyunis was fine. It took the device five minutes to print out the results to the test; when a light gray piece of paper slid out of the device's underside, ShaamVile grabbed it then walked off. He made a few crude jokes then read it; he went from being the dignified adult that they all knew he was into being a sort of overly-tempered, pouty brat. The paper was balled up then thrown across the room; TrobrencusVile was quick in retrieving it. He spread the paper out on the counter then pressed on it some to even-out some of the crinkle lines before reading it out loud.

"Samples tested via blood prove conclusive paternity. Blood of testee A; ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, is a one hundred percent match of testee B's blood."

"Conclusive my ass!" ShaamVile roared. "I'll have nothing to do with that brat! I want the name that he was given changed and I also want him to be dropped from anyone in this family's care."

"No!" Guyunis yelled. Angel quickly shushed him then slid him behind her.

"Guyunis won't be going anywhere and his name won't be changed." Angel said.

"That is my family name, Angel. You gave this... disgraceful, disgusting thing a good name that's got a good history behind it. I won't have slime like him carrying the name that this family has." ShaamVile said.

"I have a... I have a... I have a..." DuruVile repeated again and again; they could all tell that he was having a difficult time in coping with the facts of what had just been made apparent by his father's DNA kit.

"You have many, Duru. He, though—" he pointed at Guyunis. "—isn't one of them."

"According to this—" TrobrencusVile held the piece of paper that had ShaamVile's paternity results on it up. "—he does have a brother."

"I will not accept any child born and then confirmed to be mine unless its mother was or is currently engaged or married to me!" ShaamVile roared angrily. He pointed a flame-tipped finger in Guyunis's direction. "I used his mother as nothing more than a relieving lady. A whore, as Homsi pointed out earlier. No child should of been born to her... his birth was a mistake!"

"Shaam!" Bahne gasped.

"Don't talk like that." TrobrencusVile said. He was now starting to get angry. "If this is your son, as this paper claims he is, then—"

"In the course of this family's great history, no one has taken in or accepted an illegitimately born child." ShaamVile said. "Duru is my one and only son; I shall never accept or even fathom the thought of accepting a child that was born illegitimately."

ShaamVile's words hit a serious chord with his oldest grandson; KurukVile looked up sharply after hearing his grandfather speak of how no one in their family had taken in or accepted an illegitimately born child. He rushed forward, like a mad locomotive, after his grandfather started in on saying how he'd never allow anyone in the family to break tradition in taking in or accepting a child born through illegitimate means. ShaamVile was thrown against the wall then held firmly; the two men stared eye to angry eye with one another before any words were spoke. Angel already knew what was to be said between the two of them. Her grandfather, KurukVile Shonshinu Surfeit, had sired not one, not two, but three illegitimate children in his lifetime. While one of his illegitimate offspring were gone, and the other was disowned, another was still alive and recognized.

"You better start wording yourself more carefully," KurukVile said to his grandfather. "While what you said was true—in historical terms—it no longer holds in the present."

"It holds and will always hold in the present." ShaamVile said back.

"I sired three children, two daughters through a mistress, or girlfriend, and a son through a mistress who later became my wife, by illegitimate means and I sure as hell stood up to the plate in accepting them and in being a father-figure to them." KurukVile said. His grandfather's eyes went wide with shock.

"How the hell do you sleep at night knowing that you've brought such shame to the family by siring and then accepting them three illegitimate offspring?" ShaamVile shook his head.

"Pretty damn well," KurukVile replied. "I don't go with dead-beats and I won't be associated with dead-beats." he pointed at Triskull. "I've been getting on him all these six months about that, I sure as hell—"

"Your pretty words have no meaning to my ears or change my decision. I'll never accept that brat that Angel's "mothering"." ShaamVile shoved his grandson from him. "That goes double with them three illegitimate brats of yours."

"Vile is one of them." ShaamVile had just started to leave the room; he stopped dead in his tracks then turned around.

"What?" he said.

"My oldest son is the younger of my three illegitimately born offspring." KurukVile said.

"I don't much like him anyways so—"

"Angel, too, was born illegitimately." Irka said.

"A one night stand was haved between my oldest son and a girl named Helen of Earth; Angel was born a considerable time later." KurukVile said.

"A considerable time later? That's an interesting choice of words that you've chosen to describe her birth." ShaamVile chuckled. "If she was born a "considerable time later" then she's not his. Cut the cord already."

"DNA testing was done on us, the results came back saying that I was his get." Angel said.

"Then the obvious choice for me, and for everyone in this room, is clear. I apologize, Lass. But I won't associate, or have any of mine associating, with illegitimately born people." ShaamVile said after a few minutes of silence happened.

KurukVile slugged a fist in his grandfather's direction; it slammed into his jaw, made him bounce from the corner of the dining room then to the floor. KurukVile was quick in saying that he had no say on who in the family associated with and he also said that he and his would continue treating Angel, and her offspring, as one of the family. TrobrencusVile and his wife nodded their heads but said nothing, while TazirVile and the Ubalki's agreed verbally with what the man had said.

A fierce war of words happened between KurukVile and his grandfather after the proclamation of alliance with Angel and her offspring was made. Words that Bile and Guyunis had never heard before were said. Angel and most of the women in the house were quick to cover their mouths after the words were said. After the altercation happened, ShaamVile stared at his family steely. His temper, which had already been soaring, was so hot that they could feel it. ShaamVile said _fuck you_ to all of them then stormed out of the residence; DuruVile and his wife ran out after him. Angel had Bile take Guyunis upstairs then she slowly started the process of cleaning the kitchen; her slightly reduce family either sat in the dining room or relocated to the living room.


	57. Chapter 57

In the course of three hours, the Rastatter Rheinaue "Alien" camp went from being populated to vacant... but not for the reason that the humans were throwing around. The humans had the idea that he and his family had gotten fed up with the weather, and that it had caused them to get cold feet. The truth in regards to his and his family's former station was a lot more dense than that.

His father wasn't allowed to catch-up or even speak with or to his father; Shaam placed his ship on lock-down soon after entering it. All of Tula's things were "placed" by a nearby tree right after his grandfather returned to camp. His grandfather's ship left the area, and the planet, about ten minutes after its owner and driver entered it. All attempts in contacting the ship's pilot went unanswered; Shaam was in his own world. He obviously didn't want to be disturbed.

His father and Cyla had gotten things together in their camp soon after his grandfather's swift exit; they, their children, and their ship left the area silently.

His grandfather's uncle and his older, half-brother hadn't been so swift in leaving the area. They stayed around for a while; some questions were answered, and a few more things were figured out, before they left. Trobrencus's ship left the area first; the man promised to stay in contact with them. Kuruk's ship left the area an hour later; he and his family had made the same promise. He, Qeeta, his mother and stepfather, Amadh and Efagti, and Homsi and Eldass had stayed with his wife and sons for a few more hours before returning to camp; with his plan in having his family moved back to Moas scrapped, a new plan was in need of creation.

Angel refused to leave Earth. She claimed concern over Guyunis, her adopted son, succumbing to space-travel sickness and stress and she was also worried about how they'd—he, Eshal, and the youngster—get along. Even though he promised to treat the kid right, and even though he promised to not separate her from Guyunis, she refused to fathom the idea of leaving the planet.

With Angel refusing to leave Earth, he made the decision to stick around for a while. He'd play by her rules and game; in order to get his family back on Moas, and in order to have his family back as his, he'd be staying on Earth with her. It took him three hours to take on her suggestion in residing on the planet for six months; he got Eshal to pack up her things then move to the residence where he found his wife and sons at then he moved his ship back to its hangar—where, he hoped, it'd remain for a good, long time—then he returned to Earth. All of his staff were given the order of resuming normal life/work; he and his family would have time to adjust in becoming a full unit, he and his family—Guyunis now included—would learn to trust and respect one another, and he and his family would be allowed some peace.

None of the boys had the stomach to eat anything for supper. Too much had happened earlier; their interest in food was just zapped away. He and Eshal ate a small meal, then started making plans on where they'd sleep. Eshal made the loveseat her temporary bed while he, the creator of the family that he was searching so long for, made the sectional couch as his. This was only a temporary thing. The house had six rooms in it; he'd have to do something to make it a little bigger, so both he and Eshal could be comfortably accommodated. Angel wasn't cold towards him or Eshal at all; she welcomed them to the house warmly and she even tried to get them some better sleeping accommodations. Originally, he was to sleep the night away with one of the boys—Lhaklar preferred—while Eshal was to sleep with her mother. After a few minutes of thinking it over, he and Eshal agreed that, for that night only, they'd sleep on the loveseat and sectional.

It was going to be a rough night and upcoming six months; while he knew it was going to be tough in gaining the boys' trust, he had confidence that it'd be achieved before the six month-stay was over.

"Get a good night's sleep, Eshal." he said after gathering the sheet and quilt that he was to use that night to sleep with. "We have a big day tomorrow, we'll need all the rest that we can get."

"Okay daddy." Eshal replied.


End file.
